Mom's little boy
After a rather draining trawl through Google's results, I have a picture of mein Kempf that doesn't match the redneck fuckwit. I reckon he's in his early to mid 20s, still a virgin (his right hand doesn't count) and employed as a junior database programmer. His social skills in real life are about as bad as those in his online rantings, which means that even his colleagues think he's a retard. Geek glasses, negligible dress sense and complexion that resembles a pizza.
Women go our of their way to avoid him, so he gets off on keeping extracts of live data - yes, live data - that he's nicked from his employer's system. He harbours dreams of using it to seduce the woman of his dreams as he can appear sleek and sophisticated due to his knowing her age and social security number. Means he can talk about star signs as well as Star Trek.
His CV contains VB, Access and SQL Server, which is a real, big-boy's database. Crap like Oracle and DB2 just aren't up there with his massive skill set. He's a major database developer, and it's just because Microsoft don't want to be shown up as rank amateurs that they haven't appointed him to a VP position. That's his story, anyway.
He lives in a white, middle-class suburb. With his mom and pop. Pictures of server hardware vie with the Star Trek posters for space on his bedroom wall. He voted Republican purely because Obama is black. The police won't give him a firearms permit, so he keeps a collection of knives under the X Files underwear in his bottom drawer.
One day, the hormones will overcome his fear of the opposite sex and he'll lose his cherry to a prostitute. We have to hope that she survives the experience and that he doesn't fall in love with the girl, to the extent that her pimp has to break his legs to stop him stalking her.
Alien, because he knows the truth is out there.
OK, it's a slow Friday :-)