What I assume is the tale of Otto

My great-great-great grandpa, Otto Paulsen, grew up as a hippie in the late 1800 Scandinavia. While other folks of his time parlayed a rigorous work ethic into a life of honest success, He spent much of his time empathizing with Nordic woodland creatures and embellishing facts about himself to impressionable kids. While admiration was hard to come by within his persona, one would fain to ignore his inability to live life by any other means in his own terms. For this reason, authority saw him as a barrier to the way things should be. Working at (what I would assume) was something related to the fishing industry, he was constantly tardy and insubordinate with simple company policy. Otto was not wired for European life so he set sail to America with only the clothes on his back and a bindle of peyote he traded his money and supplies for. His notorious Swedish ways were not left at home as he theived his way into sustainability, all the way to stealing the identity of an unsuspecting nephew of an oil tycoon, Doug Clark. However, one day he fell in love with a German maiden named Denise and settled his miscreant life down in order to convince her he wasn’t too creepy to marry.

Natural selection took hold and I was born 100 years later.


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