About
The doofus
in question.
Doofus Dad is the alter ego of writer Mark E. Johnson, who, clearly, could never be considered a doofus.
Three books, three awesome children despite my input, one rockstar wife, a former career playing four sets a night in dive bars that no longer exist, and many adventures around the world, not that I’m bragging.
The official story
How this
whole thing started.
One day, while watching the entire run of “The Office” for the 39th time and eating Lucky Charms cereal while nobody was looking, it occurred to Mark that over the past couple of decades, fathers have become somewhat marginalized in popular media and usually depicted as bumbling goofballs unable to handle the simplest of tasks and often making fools of themselves. Watch any sitcom or TV commercial and you’ll see this is true.
So as a show of support and solidarity for all beleaguered fathers in the world, Mark decided to watch some Russian car crash videos on YouTube. After approximately 12 hours of this, he got around to creating “Doofus Dad” as a “safe space” for men such as himself to congregate online, share stupid stories, and enjoy a laugh or two, proving once and for all that they’re actually smart and competent, though not as much as their wives.
The rest of it
Now in the first person,
which is less weird.
I grew up a gangly farm boy in the Christmas tree fields of the North Carolina Appalachians, raised on Doc Savage pulp novels and Hardy Boys mysteries, certain I wanted adventure and with no earthly idea where to find it.
I found some of it in music. I spent the 1980s and 90s as a songwriter and club musician, first on the fickle Nashville circuit and then across the U.S., including a pivotal two-month gig in St. Croix, U.S.V.I. After I hung up the guitar, I worked as a freelance writer and communications professional for about twenty years.
Then, in 2016, I needed a Lyft ride to my mechanic and got picked up by a Nepali Sherpa in downtown Nashville. Yes, you read that right. Six months later my wife, Holly, and I founded Hobnail Trekking Co. We ran our first trek to Everest Base Camp in March 2018 with fourteen clients, and I wrote down everything that went wrong (and right) on the way. “Doofus Dad Does Everest Base Camp” has since become one of the most widely read books about that trek anywhere in the world. (I didn’t plan this; it just happened.)
We still operate Hobnail, just the two of us, out of Kingston Springs, Tennessee. We take ordinary people — teachers, retirees, desk-job survivors — to Nepal, Peru, Patagonia, Tanzania, Iceland and a dozen other places they were fairly sure they could not handle. They can. That is more or less the whole idea.
I write fiction under the name M. Ernest Johnson, on the theory that there are roughly 24,316 Mark Johnsons who have written novels. Nobody has ever actually called me “Ernest,” but you can if you want to. Or “M” if you like.
Three books
One serious,
two considerably less so.
Mr. Ledbetter’s Boots
Novel. A 95-year-old Tuskegee Airman sets out to walk to Everest Base Camp. Not a dad-humor book.
Read more →
Blow the Man Down
Memoir. Nashville, St. Croix, and the 1980s and ’90s music biz. There is also a sea shanty.
Read more →
DD Does Everest Base Camp
Travel humor. Yaks, altitude, and a middle-aged man with questionable cardio.
Read more →Still here?
Dads of the world unite.
Right after loading the dishwasher. If you want to say hello, argue about CrossFit, or tell me your own bumbling-father story, the door is open.