Benson has decided that Benson's pure greatness can, in fact, be contained on a puny "userpage" (just barely). Furthermore anyone who edits this page besides Benson himself shall be cursed with the curse of Benson... a fine curse indeed.
One day a woman was giving birth to a baby. A baby destined for greatness. That is when Benson came to Earth in a meteorite which crashed into the hospital where the baby was being born. Benson aimed for the hospital... HAHAHA! Let that teach you a lesson: nobody is born on the same day Benson is.
This month's Benson of the Month award was tightly contested, but BENSON won it in a photo finish. Benson says he hopes in the future to do charitable work with children and animals, both of whom may bask in his all-enveloping greatness. He likes Caps Lock keys, Samuel L. Jackson, and Pwning you. Turn-offs are fake Bensons, snakes, and those who don't respect his awesomeness.
So picture this, right? You've got this guy, this Hardwick Fundlebuggy guy - nobody's ever heard of him, but he writes pretty good. This is the essential fact, this guy's raison d'être. It gets him in the papers. It pays the bills. It's not long before he gets noticed - I've seen it happen a hundred times - he gets noticed for something, something whiz-bang and eye-catching new, something like a Bouncy Castle with a candy-smooth finish and lighted marquee that screams look at me, I'm the new 800-pound gorilla on the street. Thing is and problem is, he's right and he knows he's right, so pretty soon he's pitching something else just on his name power, like a cookbook or The One That Got Away and Other Stories from the Tobago International Game Fishing Tournament. Then the press has a field day. They forget he ever wrote anything good. Right!