Tor Johnson

... a gentleman and a scholar.


(Tor is) descript, not-so-much corpulent but round, rotund… and brawny, not-so-much absorbent, but husky, thick. 6’ – 3” of nightmarish stature; however, sweet enough to bite them cavities like a rabid pit-bull with aids. Seriously a sweet guy that has been type-casted based on his physical prowess. He could easily outwit, outsmart, outplay, outstand, outsource, outside, outer limits, etc. …any of the pretty-boy scientists cast opposite him. Tor is the circumstantial antagonist, because it is all we will allow him to be. The world sees tor and refuses him many pursuits, it denies him the role of business consultant, or tax preparer, it allows him only the ghoul, the wrestler, the colossal mass of misanthropy; although, nothing would have made him happier than to grow his hair out and assist you with adding those w-2’s. We are the ghouls. We are the discriminating diviners of false aesthetics. And Tor is an endlessly good sport for obliging us.


Fluff? There shall be no fluffy emissions held here. Fluff is the glop your mother spreads on wonder bread… when she’s not at the track or hitting the pipe. See you in the funny pages.

Tor Johnson

The Rebirth of a Nation roastbeef