All information known about this individual mysteriously vanished in a puff of smoke last Thursday at approximately 6:42 PM pacific standard time. All that remains are whispers in the wind, dark rumors with no discernible origin, shadows of shadows dancing in the night. Some say that when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, he is standing right behind you, twisting his nipples and masturbating ferociously with his feet. Others say that he doesn't exist at all--that he is myth, an allegorical story, a fictional creation meant to personify everything that is wrong with this madcap world of ours so that we might better ourselves. These people usually say this in a frantic fit of hysteria as he harvests their organs with a rusty spork so that he can craft for himself a bride as delightfully magnificent and bastardly as he.