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 children, one trek to the foot of Everest, and a former career playing four sets a night in bars that no longer exist.
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, it occurred to Mark that over the past 10–15 years, fathers have been somewhat marginalized in popular media and often depicted as bumbling goofballs unable to handle the simplest of tasks and usually 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 place” 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.
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 on St. Croix. After I hung up the guitar I worked as a freelance writer and communications professional for about twenty years.
Then I met a Sherpa in Nashville, which is the sort of sentence that changes your life. I ended up founding a Nepal trekking company, Hobnail Trekking Co., and walking the forty miles to Everest Base Camp, and then writing down everything that went wrong on the way.
I write fiction under the name M. Ernest Johnson, on the theory that there are roughly 48,000 Mark Johnsons who have written novels. I have three children who know considerably more than I do.
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 music business. 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.