Angry GoT Fan
Bio: Angry GoT Fan is written by an American production and writing team consisting of John “Jack” (pronounced yak) Rosoviecz and Luke Stanford. Both born 1984. The pair met in grade school in Norrisville, PA, a large suburb of Philadelphia. The team is noted for their criticism of various franchises, such as Star Wars, Star Trek, Gymboree, and Game of Thrones. EARLY LIFE AND CAREER Stanford was born in Norrisville, PA, and Rosoviecz in Grzegorzski, Poland, a subdivision of Krakow when that country was still in the Soviet Union. Stanford’s mother was on and again, off again homemaker, his father an electrician. Rosoviecz’s mother Määrtha, worked in the town’s local automotive factory, making Trabant automobiles His father, Fermi, was a low ranking member of the Stasi, the Polish run Soviet secret police. Both Stanford and Rosoviecz have one brother; Thomas Stanford is a carpenter and Kevin Rosoviecz is a miniature golf course owner in Pugwash, Nova Scotia. In 1987 Rosoviecz’s father decided to make a last minute run over the Belgian border and did not inform the child’s mother. Fermi was killed in the last dash to the West; Määrtha, driving a brand new Trabant down a steep hill and aided by a tailwind, rammed her husband into the infamous Antwerp Wall. Rosoviecz was carried over the structure by friendly Belgian soldiers. The boy began the slow process of emigration to the United States, where he had family, and was aided by Belgian authorities. Stanford enjoyed an idyllic upper middle class lifestyle, but did not apply himself in school enough to be recognized as anything but average. The boys met in the first grade when Rosoviecz bit Stanford on the jacket sleeve; Stanford later quipped, “He was hungry, the communists starved him.” The two quickly became inseparable. EARLY WORK AND BUSINESS VENTURES After a high school spent collaborating on Star Wars roleplaying games, stories, and fan fiction the two set off in seemingly never-ending parade of projects under the unfortunate heading of Chicken Legs Productions. Their graphic novel “Falah’s Got a Shotgun” made its way into the early post 9/11 farcical anti-Arab literature circles, especially the thriving anti-Arab community of Bridgeport, Pennsylvania. Stanford then conceived the idea that the two of them should sell Renaissance wall posters by mail. The niche marketing concept, buoyed by Rosoviecz’s innately keen Polack business sense, soon enabled the two to quit their day jobs. They sold the company soon after. The proceeds allowed them to live in bare minimum comfort in a rented home, and the two set down to work. NOVELLAS, SHORT STORIES, AND PLAYS The little home they rented at 64 N Church Street in nearby Spring City, PA soon became ground zero for their new career. The site was chosen when Stanford discovered there was an underused space under his friend's porch stoop. “Those stoop days were idyllic,” Rosoviecz recalled to British film and TV magazine, Hot Dog. “We’d wake up nice and early, work out, hash out what our attack plan was for the day, and do it. This left the evenings free to brainstorm, carouse, or take in a play at the local theater.” The short novel Paradise…FOUND!!! was self published. Penguin Books soon found the work through a junior editor; it was republished and while well received, did not allow the pair to ascend from their grimy work conditions. They were barely afloat, able to keep their home. Stanford said in a recent Reddit AmA that he and Rosoviecz often ate “meat popsicles.” “They were hot dogs where the skins were well past their expiration date but the meat inside was still good. You’d pinch the skin and eat it out of the top like a push-pop.” Early Chicken Legs work were published under the name John Steak, a pseudonym that many fans insist has a great symbology, but the pair themselves dismissed it. “It was Jack’s first name and our favorite food. We could never afford steak and we said we’ll name ourselves that and one day we will eat it every day.” Said Stanford. Financial success still eluded them, even when the local Colonial Theater in nearby Phoenixville, PA agreed to put on a production of their play Kneeling for Cash. “Kneeling” came primarily from Rosoviecz, who at this point was spending much of the pair’s income on a local pr*stitute nicknamed “Two Bill Jill.” The play was once again acclaimed locally and even made a big splash in a Philadelphia arts magazine, but it did not earn much money. FILM WORK AND BEYOND Critically and commercially the pair needed a hit. Their house had fallen into disrepair, with lice and demoralization setting in. They were on the verge of being evicted. Stanford was ready to quick and find a job. On Rosoviecz’s suggestion, the two decided to take an advance from Glamour magazine, with the promise that they’d right a series of articles on spicing up a woman’s love life. In reality, the money helped keep the team alive to keep on working. They have since gone on to write for Cosmo, Elle, and Weekly World News. The script for the short film Montoya, the story of an elderly perfume mogul dividing up his company as he dies, was released in one theater n Philadelphia, the pair having promised to pay money to the theater’s owner from the proceeds. Local critics loved the film, and the remake by director Sam Mendes won the Beijing Film Festival’s coveted Crying Monkey Award, amongst other accolades. Montoya finally meant Rosoviecz and Stanford could fix their nearly destroyed row home and buy it for good;. Eventually with their later success the pair bought every house on the dingy block of Church Street for their use. Their multimillion dollar company is still based there as of 2014. Spirits risen by their success the pair then churned out the trilogy of books from which the Kevin Spacey action series Copeland was adapted. The books were originally titled the Gibson Reilly Trilogy; Spacey’s company meathouse merged the three into one film. Copeland netted the film company over six hundred million dollars in total sales. The story was one of a jaded medical examiner and his inept coworkers solving murders that were actually accidental deaths. The Gibson Reilly Trilogy was originally a comedy, but Meathouse significantly changed the setting. Said Rosoviecz, “We don’t care. Money. Steak.” He then widened his eyes and stared at the interviewer. The pair is currently working on bringing human chess to the People’s Republic of China and on a new graphic novel.