Your name is DANE MARKOV, and you KNOW A BUNCH OF STUFF. Like, seriously. You’re pretty damn learned about a WIDE VARIETY OF SUBJECTS, including but most certainly not limited to: MATH, LITERATURE, CULTURE, SCIENCE, HISTORY, POLITICS, TECHNOLOGY, PSYCHOLOGY, PHILOSOPHY and a whole mess of OTHER THINGS. you try to pass it off to your friends and relatives as simply being a KNOWLEDGE BUFF, but (not-so) secretly, it’s ACTUALLY a symptom of the fact that you suffer from DEEP-SEATED XENOPHOBIA. you become INCREDIBLY NERVOUS when faced with things that you CANNOT UNDERSTAND, CONTROL AND COMPARTMENTALIZE, and your cognitive dissonance often manifests in the form of ANXIETY ATTACKS. you particularly find DARKNESS SCARY AS FUCK, which is why a number of lamps are scattered about your room. as a way of trying to OVERCOME YOUR MENTAL DISABILITIES, you have taken an interest in STAGE MAGIC, and you wear a TOP HAT to strengthen your identity as a MASTER OF THE INSCRUTABLE. you also, quite paradoxically, are really into ALIENS. you think the idea of extraterrestrial life is COMPLETELY AWESOME, and your walls and shelves are covered in ALIEN PARAPHERNALIA.
Your Chumhandle is guilleretianComplex and you t-tend to sp-speak with a bit of a st-stutter.