Matt Kuphaldt began in Bellingham in 1977. While everyone else was busy watching the Star Wars and listening to the Kraftwerk, young Matt spent the late 70s mastering the motor skills and bladder control that would one day be necessary for his life as a freelance artist. This foolish and no doubt ultimately fatal career choice brought him in 1998 to a children's computer-game company, where he was hired alongside the other Matt (no relation). And when Reality woke up again and poked the stock-market bubble, so too were the Matts laid off together.While Mr. Kuphaldt (let's call him "Kuph") invested his severance pay and unemployment checks into a life of gluttony and sloth, Mr. Hawk (let's call him "Hawk") joined Scatterbrains. Kuph attended many of Hawk's delightful shows, and then one night Hawk pulled Kuph bodily onto the stage and brutalized him for cheap laughs. I know: HOT. So when Scatterbrains held auditions in August 2004, Kuph couldn't resist Hawk's peer-pressuring, and he submitted himself for approval.
The public brutalization continues to this day.
Matt Kuphaldt
(2004 -)
In the course of his "adult" life, Matt has animated children's computer games, helped create an anime-style web-cartoon ad campaign, and drawn Transformers for comic-book companies. It almost makes him wish he hadn't sold his for its organs back in college.Almost.
Because, sure, people SAY the children are our future, but we all know better. It's the robots. Children, while capable of productive toil, will eventually succumb to exhaustion.
Robots never tire.
Children, with their free will and their capacity for self-awareness, will complain and rebel in even the most trivially taxing situations.
Robots always obey.
Children, thanks go biological cues and chemical processes, consume our attention and devotion like nothing else. We value our children's well-being more highly than our own. Even if a person has many children, the misfortune of a single one is felt as tragedy.
Robots are disposable.
But children, you might be yelling, are the source of a joy purer than any other in this life: unblemished, unconditional love. How can a robot give anything that even compares to that utmost of treasures? To which there is but one response: Does a heart made of steel and silicon beat any less true?
(Write your answer in the space provided)
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