MR. Clark emerged from a flotsam of discarded dishwater soap and quickly fell in love with Tom Hanks. While the relationship didn't work out, he opted to remain, even if it means being occasionally menaced by Eugene Levy. He consequently found himself inundated with a culture ruled by a myriad of ridiculous, counter-intuitive and occasionally infuriating cliches, causing in him a constant exasperation. His only guide through this madness is his earnest belief in the use of constructive criticism, and in the power of story, imagination, discovery, and Lego. And so, MR. Clark finds himself sorting through an avalanche of creations, striving to point out what once went wrong, hoping that each new work will be the best that it can...

He doesn't give a shit about pandas.

Seeking to fit in with others of his temperament, he adopted the descriptor of "successfully unpublished author" and began writing things on the internet, which due to a misunderstanding during preparatory research, he believed to be an entirely reputable and civilized place to find and deliver information. Under the guise of The Disgruntled Individual, he has offered criticism, analysis and opinion since 2012 with the credentials of "having watched a bunch of stuff" and "knows what I'm talking about" ^{[citation needed]}. Despite his desire to maintain decorum, this occasionally results in long, winding rants traversing rhetorical terrain his metaphorical shock absorbers are ill-equipped to handle.

He wears a menagerie of impressive and stranger-accostingly appropriate hats. He does so unironically.

Not conspicuously handsome, MR. Clark has the look of having been drawn by someone not completely capable of artistry, and should likely have made a better go at something less creative, like being an accountant. Unassumingly, MR. Clark has the air of someone being unassumed. He is shorter than you might expect, but not short enough to be impressively short. His ears are larger then necessity suggests, but this is good, as large ears were well known by the ancient Thracians as able to cool an agitated brain. There is something very slightly odd about him, until he opens his mouth and speaks, at which point it becomes obvious that there is quite a lot very odd about him. This strikes most people as either endearingly eccentric or aggressively annoying, often simultaneously. At parties, he tends to find the nearest geologist, and makes every attempt to have them understand the poor decisions in their life.

He doesn't know you, but probably has an issue with you all the same. It's not personal, you understand.

His chin, though not weak, is not strong enough. His nostrils are too wide, and flare in coordination with his eyebrows, with which he does the majority of his non-verbal communication (eyebrows being well known as the mouths of the upper head). He lives his life in the top of his mind, where ideas are born, nursed, and shut into cupboards. Up there he has plenty of room, a large window with a view, and a chair whose cushion has seen one-too-many assings. He takes a profound interest in the work of others, especially that of authors and scientists, and takes particular delight in working out the implications of their discoveries. He has that supply of self-love which usually results in the police being summoned. And he differs from most men who write and talk about things such as he does in ways too indiscernible to fashion an appropriate description.

He has not heard of Dan in some time. Despite this, he is not concerned. Are you?