I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice.

I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing,

I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes.

I enjoy urban hang gliding.

I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear.

I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration.

I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair.

I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami.

Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven.

I breed prizewinning clams.

I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.