Arthur T. Hatton (1984-2073)

Arthur Hatton’s story is long, vague, and convoluted, and to this day historians argue over whether any of the sad tales of his life actually existed.  However, there is one thing that most unemployed historians DO agree on, and that is that Arthur T. Hatton was completely full of it.  Absolutely and completely full of it.  The next passage was taken from Hatton’s autobiography, “Diary of a Madman, Part 2- The Arthur Tales.”

“I was born in 1984 in an alleyway between a guitar shoppe and a condemned warehouse (which used to hold sewing needles) in the crowded city of Liverpool, England.  Mother said that the moment I was born, I took my first step, in the direction of the needle warehouse.  Upon falling facefirst onto a pile of long pins, whose trauma I am just getting over through hypnotherapy, I walked the other way directly into Ryan’s Discount Guitars and Sandpaper Emporium.  After falling directly onto a particularly rough bit of sandpaper I moved to a Rickenbacker 325 12-string guitar and immediately played every song known by man perfectly well, and watched Ryan’s eyes widen as he heard the perfect notes from an infant.  I was immediately signed to EMI Records and began producing my own music.”

Historians agree that this is completely and utterly false.  The autobiography moves on:

“I met Harry Truman at Moe’s Tavern in Springfield, USA, where he was searching for a quarter he had dropped underneath a jukebox.  ‘Hello, Harry, I wish to become the next President of the United States,’ I said, and he stood up, smiled, and said it wasn’t possible.  He told me that the Bolsheviks held too much power in the White House and the only way to usurp the government was to enlist the aid of Justin Watson, the Green Beret Commando, and Zorro, the great Mexican hero of independence.  ‘It won’t be easy,’ I said.  But Harry looked at me straight in the eyes and said,

‘It never is.’”

Historians agree that this is also false, on the pretense that Zorro was an imaginary character, Bolsheviks never held any power in the White House before 1992, and Justin Watson has this to say about his inclusion in the autobiography:

“Lies!  All lies!  I NEVER said that... and if I did, I was probably pretty wasted at the time and shouldn’t be held responsible.  And it was ME who took over the White House, not that Art Hatton dimwit.  Wait, don’t quote me on that.”

To this day, Arthur lives his peaceful days among the natives of Henderson County, Kentucky, as a missionary to the sad inhabitants.  This is where the SpROCKitS come in.