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Genius, gravitas, dudetacular these words only graze the aura that surrounds the man, the myth, and/or even the legend they call George Cornelius (they referring to everyone not you, hence your reading of his bio). A God amongst mere mortals, Georges oeuvre extends past those of Spielberg, Goddard, Scorsese, and Sir Russel Meyer making them look as though stains off the thigh of a really, really homeless person.
Born in a manger, his family was brutally murdered by a pack of ravenous cougars being raised as pets as irony would have it by the owner of the manger himself. In fact, said cougars were currently detained in the manger that George's family ineptly lain him in. Their deaths could not have come swiftly enough.
George realized that if he remained helpless for long, he would indeed face a fate worse than that of death cougar gang rape. George, using only a barrage of clicks and whistles, sent out an urgent warcry upon which, after a few moments, the toughest group of wolfen cubs this side of the Poughkeepsie Gorge showed up. Accompanying the seven cubs was a grizzled old mother wolf who responded to the title She. Mistaking the sound of Georges cry as one of her own cubs, She put her protective instincts into action and proceeded to hurl her less than human offspring at the cougars raiding party ridding the manger of the wolf-like cat monsters. Knowing nothing in the ways of the human world, she picked George up by the nape of his neck and carried him back to her den.
Upon which She learned that carrying a human baby by the neck would give them a rare physical ailment, rendering their bodies inept for life.
Because of Georges physical condition, he was unable to venture out into the wild with his newly familial brethren to hunt and scavenge for food. To earn his keep, he developed a sense of prose but did not use simple paper and pen to .. his stories. He used a camera fashioned from jungle vines and baby caterpillars to create moving images. Honing his craft through sheer instinct and ingenuity, George began molding the mythos of the mighty jungle where the lion sleeps tonight and became an instant legend. He was known by the jungle creatures as Gnuck kok kaww, which roughly translates to He who tells wicked awesome stories.
Soon, George began to realize his forest laden home was much too small for him. Using his mind to levitate, he journeyed back out into the human world. George traipsed west through sleet, snow, desert, and rain the likes of which would make Moses shit his prehistoric diaper. He took a temporary rest in the Hoosier state until trekking further west to sunny California. While residing under the alias of an average American youth, he honed his filmmaking abilities through a series of critically acclaimed shorts.
As time passed, George, who was once a legendary native to the wild, was now a legend to all who call themselves man (but not nave woman). After various escapades ranging from chimney sweeping to the discovery of sign language, George was invited to attend the prestigious University of Southern California film school. In 2006, George graduated from USC, leaving his mark as the greatest George to ever step foot off the film schools holy ground. Eat that, Lucas.... I also love staying classy.
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