Matt Murphy was born an Irish Catholic in 1984 in Boston, Massachusetts. In 1987, he entered preschool and got his first girlfriend, Dorian. It was a torrid affair, during which there was much hand holding, staring at each other with googley eyes, and finger painting. One day, when there was only one stubby red crayon left, and Matt used the last of it to draw what he described as a "balloon person doctor," Dorian started to cry, saying that she needed the crayon to draw the blood spewing from the neck of the brontosaurus that was being eaten by a T-Rex. Matt wouldn't have another girlfriend for fourteen years.
Other childhood memories include his mother beating him with a wooden spoon when he did not correctly spell "Massachusetts" and eating only peanut butter & jam, macaroni & cheese, Cheerios & milk, bananas, and a couple of other assorted ampersand foods.
Throughout elementary and middle school, Matt performed in various local acting troupes, usually portraying characters several decades older than himself. Other children thought him strange, most likely due to his obsession with the Chicken Dance. It wasn't until Matt got to high school in 1999 that he hit his stride by joining the Drama Club. There he played more old men, including Santa Claus, Ebenezer Scrooge, and a Bible salesman.
In 2003, he received his high school diploma and moved on to get a fancy education at Ithaca College in Ithaca, New York. There, he attended a strange underground organization known only as ASIC, which is so underground that if you Google it you won't find the right website for, like, ten pages at least. At ASIC, he met four people with funny hair. One of them was a guy with the Flock of Seagulls cut, with whom he did not associate. The second was a guy with a soft and shiny acorn cut and glasses. Another was a guy with a poofy, well groomed mullet, and was apparently a dead president who could use the martial arts. The last was a man with very little hair at all, but he was still kind of cool, so Matt hung out with him anyway, and with the help of the other two cool-yet-funny-haired people, helped make Johnny Robo.
Matt then sacrificed the fate of the Model world by leaving Ithaca and transferring to the much hipper, trendier but otherwise helplessly emo Emerson College of Boston in 2005. Another milestone of that year was when Matt first impersonated Peter Tatara for profit and free merch.
When those funny-haired folks from Ithaca asked him to join them in the Giant Robots Fighting God endeavor of the summer of 2006, Matt said, "FUCK YES PLEASE." After contributing such classic hits as Rock Out and Montana Young & the Search for the Monte Cristo: Angry Drunken Director's Commentary Edition, the site met with astronomical success in 2009. By 2010, GRFG became the most widely linked to site on the internet, and by 2013 it was the first website to be reviewed as a work of literature. In the year 2020, when Matt Murphy ran as the first cyborg-American candidate for the office of the President of the United States of the Americas (he lost most of his old body in the great aphid flood of '13), the landslide victory was obvious from the moment he announced his campaign on GRFG.
After successfully convincing Congress and the voters of all 50 states to amend the Constitution in 2023 so that each president only served one five year term (like those goddamn Frenchies), Matt went into a state of semi-retirement where he focused his efforts once again on his one true love -- painting balloon people. It was during this retirement that he met his wife in 2025, the famed heiress and total slut Paris Hilton. Their marriage lasted one week, after which Matt eviscerated her in a bloody and brutal fashion. Though he was charged with mayhem and acts of first degree murder, the jury let him off because "she fucking had it coming to her."
Following his exoneration, Matt again returned to GRFG to publish his fortnightly column I Hate Everyone Except for You, which received amazing press both at home and abroad. It was tragic, then, to discover him shriveled and naked in his home on December 14, 2029, deceased from an overdose of venially injected chocolate milk. A funeral service was held on December 20, at which Matt's final will and testament commanded everyone in attendance to wear fuchsia, the color he hated most. The presence of the most loathed hue forced Matt's shambled corpse to rise from the coffin and devour the souls of all present, including the small children who enjoyed his work on the show The Jumperoo Oaty Bar Half-Hour Hour.
Full of souls and rearing to go, Matt reentered the world stage a new man. After becoming the first American-born and undead prime minister of the Eurasian Union, he signed the historic Accord of Utter Perdition with Our Lord Satan in 2032, who promised to rain hellfire upon our enemies in exchange for all the gingerbread cookies we could make in our collective lifetimes.
Work in the gingerbread mines was brutal but rewarding, as with each cookie unearthed another enemy was struck down. After everyone from the last four generations was worked beyond exhaustion, Matt allowed them a new life in undeath, only to slaughter them again after fifteen minutes as a tribute to the Dark Lord Xarnax in exchange for never-ending unlife in the Year of the Final Calendar, 2037.
Thus, Matt is worshipped by all in life and unlife, in a cycle without end. He can be reached by e-mail and soul-sacrifice, though he often ignores both for the sake of watching you suffer. If you spam him, he will slowly suck your soul out of your body, partially digest it, then spit back into your fetid corpse only to devour that as well, so that you may watch it break down in his myriad of organs beyond your comprehension. He wishes you a merry Rushmas and a Happy Dolenika Spritzing.