R. A. Hall is from a small town in West Virginia located along the Ohio River. He is mistaken for Bigfoot, Fat Jesus, a filthy hippie, and Quasimodo often, and on many occasions, he has the same attitude as an unruly bigfoot. He grew up surrounded by firefighters and former military brats while consistently kicking death in the junk. Truthfully, he’s a beat-up middle-aged cripple with the same spinal profile as Quasimodo, mildly limping his way through life. A former volunteer firefighter and emergency medical technician that’s been surrounded by enough crazy that he should be inoculated to it by now, so his twisted sense of humor is well-earned. At his most distilled, he’s a jack of all trades hoping to add author to the list of skills.