A dynamic figure, I'm often seen scaling walls and refreezing glacial ice on a small island near Cannes. I translate Yiddish proverbs for Cuban refugees; breed prizewinning clams, and I have played Hamlet. I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I write award-winning operas, play electric cello and can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed.

Women are wooed by my sensuous and god-like kazoo playing. I know the exact location of every item in the supermarket and I bake 30-minute brownies in 20 minutes. I've been scouted by the Mets, stalked by a felon, and am the subject of numerous documentaries.

I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru. Once, using only a small spatula and a half-filled glass of water, I single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants.

Every third Wednesday, I teach an advanced-skills course to discontent Buddhist and repair small electrical appliances (free of charge) at a local mall parking lot. I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. I do not perspire.

I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the free tickets. Last summer I toured the former Soviet Union with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration troupe. I bat .400 and have a Bonsai forest that was once praised by an international panel of botanists.

I sleep only once a week; and when I do, I sleep in a chair. I recently spent an afternoon with Elvis and Jimmy Hoffa while traveling cross-country on a UFO. Mothers and small animals trust me. Despite my accomplishments, these words are not mine, but are merely a loquacious adaptation of anonymous work.