Well, it’s time. We’ve put this off long enough. After seeing this article outing The Big Lead as former US Weekly editor Jason McIntyre, and after seeing the boys at Fire Joe Morgan out themselves as successful TV writers (not that I’m jealous or anything… fucking talented fuckers) and doing it because “people have a right to face their accusers,” we at KSK felt compelled to, at long last, reveal ourselves for the very first time. This was not an easy decision. Many of us have regular day jobs that we do not want jeopardized. But we felt a responsibility to do this. Ufford has carried this burden far too long. So, at long last, here now are our real identities.
“I am Mandi Morgan Potter, adult film star and cosplay expert for hire.”
“I am Manuel Habanero, world renowned pinatero.”
While Matt Ufford is the original Captain Caveman, for the last year and a half, his posts have been ghostwritten by Janice Dickens, a Steelers fan who adores her two English bulldogs, Amy and Emily.
“I am Kyle Sandersonian, a roadie for System of a Down.”
“I am actually a platinum plate lightning lamp from The Sharper Image catalog. I originally retail for $39,99, but right now I am available at a considerable discount. When you touch me, the lightning all redirects to your hand! Isn’t that amazing?! It’s all about heat.”
Falco’s (1975-2006) real name was David Garcia. He died in a tenement fire set deliberately by an unscrupulous landlord. His family was given no restitution.
My real name is actually Andrew von Trapp deKlampfenstein IV. I was born in Austria and am actually a Count by heritage. After graduating from Phillips Exeter Academy, I returned to my homeland to join the Austrian Air Force. I have flown 398 successful sorties over reconstructed Serbian schoolhouses. I have a charm bracelet that has over 76 miniature skull charms, each of which signify a Serbian mongrel child I helped “cleanse” off the landscape. Women are normally horrified to hear of such exploits. But then they look into my deep Cerulean blue eyes, and they know that I am pure of heart and girthy of dongbone. You should also know that I steadfastly refuse to wear any clothing that is not emblazoned with some sort of crest.
So there you have it. I hope these stunning revelations - and the fact that even if you know our real names, we’re still just six assholes you don’t know - don’t affect how you read our fine site.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have villages to wipe off the landscape.