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Matt Arnett The entire world knows Matthew Arnett as an athlete, humorist, occasional statutory rape defendant and character assassin. But is what everyone knows the whole story? Item: There is no record of any individual by the name of "Matthew Arnett" existing before January 15, 1978, when a birth certificate application was submitted in the Commonwealth of Virginia and a Social Security number was issued. This shocking new evidence begs the twin questions: 1. Where was Matt Arnett prior to January 15, 1978? and 2. Is Matt Arnett even his real name? The answers to these questions may shock you. They are: 1. His home planet. and 2. No. Yes, after years of painstaking research and dangerous undercover fieldwork in the belly of the beast, posing as Matt Arnett's best friend, I am now in a position to tell the world the truth about Matthew Philip Khalid Muhammed Staffa Arnett. The TRUE Matt Arnett story doesn't begin in Virginia in 1978, it begins much earlier, and much, much farther away. Matthew's true name, like his true birthdate, will probably never be known, but what IS known is that upon receiving orders from the rulers of his home planet of Remulak to infiltrate and conquer Earth society he quickly distinguished himself from the other memberslove of his unit. Arriving in January of 1978 he selected Virginia as a nicely vulnerable target, ripe for exactly the kind of covert operation he was engaged in. After obtaining the proper documentation and identification, he actually went so far as to disfigure himself forever in the eyes of his people by having his skull structure surgically altered to flatten out the trademark "cone" shape of the Remulakan head; all the better to disguise himself as a native "Earther". No one around him questioned this new presence in their lives. He was off the radar, invisible, living among us as one of our own. The entire operation had gone flawlessly... save for one tiny error that ultimately proved to be the undoing of Remulak's drive to conquer Earth. The identification Matt had obtained with the help of a couple of willing dupes, a birth certificate; while certainly air-tight in proving his non-extra terrestrial status, came with the rather severe drawback of rendering him unqualified for even the most rudimentary government position. Or, indeed, any position. Anywhere. Everywhere he went he heard the same thing, "I'm sorry, we can't hire an infant. Try us again when you turn 16" the irony was crushing. Eventually resigning himself to the lengthy delay involved, Matt entered daycare in 1983, a private K-12 academy in 1984, and the public school system in 1987. The largest "child" in his class until well into the third grade, Matt allayed suspicion by insisting that he was merely "big for his age". Consoling himself with the thought of the absolutely iron-clad paper trail he was creating for himself, he bided his time, waiting until the day his documentation would mature, and the moment to strike arrived! Unfortunately for Planet Remulak and their dreams of conquest, all of this was derailed by the simplest thing imaginable: Internet Pornography. How could Remulak's leaders have forseen an individual like Douglas Wiath? It was Mr. Wiath, now an analyst for the prestigous Hammel-Denton consulting firm, that introduced Matt to a world he could never even have imagined on stuffy, strait-laced Remulak. A world in which the most disgusting things he hadn't even known enough to fantasize about were only a mouse-click away. 24/7. It was also around this time that Matthew discovered gin, which only sealed the deal. Unable to stand by and permit the destruction of everything he now held dear, Matthew turned himself in to the Earth authorities, confessing the entire plot and denouncing the other memberslove of his infiltration squad. In return, Matthew was provided with immunity from prosecution, a house in the suburbs, a sinecure position with a friendly non-profit, a broadband internet connection and a liberal supply of gin. He now putters away his days as an international soccer phenomenon, occasionally producing various libelous works of "humor". Alert readers will remember a few of his previous efforts, including "JFK: The Man, The Myth, The Necrophiliac"; "1000 Dicks and Just 1 Ass: The Princess Diana Story"; and his 20,000 page epic, with one of the longest titles in the history of publishing, "John Lennon: The Man Whose Music Sucked Almost as Much Cock as He Did, I'm Glad He's Dead". Matt's deal with the government, celebrity athlete status as popular football club Chelsea's goalie, and habit of picking on targets that are already safely dead has kept him out of the courtroom thus far. However, there are signs that this may change in the very near future. His latest near-actionable work of "humor", entitled "Unpaid Bills" and available for viewing on this very website, has aroused a level of anger and hatred in the general public not seen since the kidnapping of the Lindbergh Baby. In selecting beloved billionaire philanthropist, playboy and man about town Jordan Halsey as his latest target, Matthew has chosen someone not only still very much alive, but also someone able to take full advantage of the courts in defending his good name. He has also had the misfortune to select an individual with the full backing of the American People. A grassroots movement has sprung up overnight. Republicans and Democrats, black and white, Persians and Mexicans who claim to be of Peruvian descent, omnivores and those that eat only french fries; virtually the entire spectrum of American society has united with only one goal: The death or severe mutilation of Matt Arnett. The President and memberslove of Congress have been deluged with mail, both electronic and classic; the call-in shows can talk of nothing else; the editorial pages are given over solely to publishing anti-Arnett hate mail. America wants Matt Arnett ridden out of the country on a rail and then exiled, preferably to Canada. It is in this atmosphere of blood-thirsty hatred and red-eyed vengeance seeking that Cloven Hand welcomes Matthew Arnett to the ranks of its contributors. The editors recieve an average of 20 death threats a day and Andy's house has been firebombed, but the entire Cloven Hand family remains steadfast and unwavering in their support for this sickly perverted, gin-soaked, conehead who's chosen to make Earth his home. Welcome aboard, Matt! And Nanoo - Nanoo, or whatever the hell it is you people say. Skills: Writer