Lou Ruppert


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Who/What are you (Lou Ruppert)?

Mankind has been asking that question for centuries in one form or another. Yes, in fact the question of who one is is almost as old as mankind himself. However, I will spare you the lengthy philosophical essay and get down to the sordid details, mostly to keep you from speeding to the back button. I am a man. Want to know more? OK. I am an artist, a student, a poet, a writer, a programmer, a systems administrator, and a college graduate, and that's not even counting the various four letter words others have offered to help me describe myself. Why are none of these titles exactly correct? Because they don't explain my full purpose in life: I am a servant of God.

Feh! We want vital statistics.

Very well.

Isn't there a better picture of you?

No. I do not photograph well. As an example, here is a worse picture of me in glasses. I look like Ralphie from A Christmas Story. I guess it's understandable though, as they're the same glasses I had during my hemp-smoking groove-monkey days as a disco king in the late 70's. If that doesn't thrill you, here is a picture of my butt.

What do you do, apart from writing home pages?

Nothing. I am a filthy leech on society. I drain the resources of the western industrio-capitalist machine. Ha ha. Just kidding. I am studying to get my credentials as a full time minister of some kind or another (see the web pages I did for the church group I'm in), and when I'm not doing that, the kind ladies and gentlemen at NPAC pay me to keep their suns running. Given that all 30 or so of them are about as well behaved as me, it is a full time job.

Given your pathetic social life, you must have many hobbies, right?

Sorta. I brew wine (which for you ecclesiastical types is only ambrosia), write stuff, cultivate bitter black temperments, complain, and kick puppies. (If you are evaluating me for a character reference, or are a sufficiently attractive young lady with a keen interest in animal rights, disregard the last hobby. Kicking puppies, although great fun in theory, is a cruel and senseless thing to do.)

I miss your old home page, the one where you were nicer. What have you done with it, you horrible little man?

Wuss. However if you must be a sentimental fool, here is is.

You are a stud. If I am male, I would like to be like you. If I am female, I would like to bear your many virile children. But, how come you have no crowds of women following you around?

(Aw shucks.) I guess women don't like me. I have two explanations for this: None of my explanations above seem very plausible, so all I can say is that I must be a real charmer to have my luck.

I have another question. Will it ever be answered?

Maybe. If you email it here I might answer it, or even put it up on my page for all to goggle at in stunned admiration.