Born on the rocky coast of Maine, Harry first set out to become the world’s greatest sportswriter before realizing that path was littered with poor chumps who made no money and constantly had evenings with their below-average-looking wives interrupted by a coach getting fired or a 19-year-old getting cited for marijuana possession.
He tried his hand at education working at a boarding school for obese children, then went into hiding before re-emerging in the business world running operations for a successful hockey camp business that allowed him to travel the world and have a pretty good time.
He had a good job, attractive girlfriend, comfortable living situation and generally stable life, but decided to give it all up to try and write a book about 28 years of bad decisions that have led to some relatively amusing stories. TBD whether anyone actually wants to read the thing or whether the decision to write the book will only end up another chapter in the unwritten book about bad decisions.
He’s lived in six states, been to 45, spent time in just about every major American and Canadian city over his travels. He is terrible at dating but awesome at dating-sports analogies, can quote any Seinfeld episode but seems to still have a lot of Costanza-like problems and will never forgive Roger Goodell, the NFL and anyone associated with it for the hatchet job of the greatest living human being of our time, Thomas Edward Patrick Brady Jr.