• Hailing from Michigan meant growing up in the land of basements. Most just stored junk, old clothes and holiday decorations, while some were glorified underground laundromats. All were just plain creepy. We had those sections, too. But we also had one huge room that was a clear ancestor to the mancave, complete with an air hockey table, pinball machine, slot tracks, Bongo & Dart boards, profanity-laced albums hidden behind black leather couches,  the "latest" video game & TV consoles, posters of babes & nurds (note the spelling), cool bearded and/or syrup-filled Action figures, and every game or ball known to Mattel, Hasbro and Nerf. 
    Every now and then my friends and I would surface like Whack-A-Moles for a swig of Mountain Dew or RC, a slab of Velveeta, can of  Pringles or bag of Bugles, followed by a Pixie Stix chaser. We'd then return to the dungeon below to play, ever wary of my brother's equalizer and component stereo lit only by a lava lamp (volcanic to the touch) and a blacklight bulb for a velvet Spider-Man poster beside a smiling angel who once worked for Charlie.
    That was Marty's Basement then. I left out the Neil Peart air drum solos, Spin The Bottle parties, and whatever my brother and his friends were doing with that strange glass lamp-like thing, but you get the idea. Alas, every other year a flood would wash out the old and usher in the new, much to the chagrin of my 7-year old son who really wants to know what happened to all my childhood toys. (And by toys, he means cap guns!) But a kid raised in California knows little of rain, much less basements. No one ever loses all their stuff in a drought. An earthquake, on the other hand...
    Where was I? Oh yes - the basement. While Marty's Basement today has little in common with the original, I am assured it's flood and earthquake proof because it lives in some kind of impenetrable cloud, storing all my past, current and future projects.  There's also the obligatory resume, contact info and LinkedIn, uh, link...just in case I'm looking and you're hiring.
    So...mi basement es su portfolio!
    Brian Michael Martin
    P.S. Old friends call me Marty. You can call me Brian.
    [Update: I have just been informed the cloud is actually quite porous.]