He's really, *really* trying to get under my skin. Actually, he's trying to get under my shirt, but that's about as likely as Tony getting an applause break at a home for people who exhibit symptoms of OCD by applauding. He's the cure for that little neuronic misfire.
I ask you this, dear, foxy-ass reader:
Who is Tony Moser?
This great technology of ours allows us to find just about anyone, and find out just about anything about that anyone. So I'm like, hell yeah, who the hell is Tony Moser? I whip out the six-finger for a little Googling, and guess whats I find?
Tony Moser: (ca:2000) Crusading Arkansas journalist Tony Moser, 41 -- killed Saturday night by a 1995 Chevy pickup truck -- was a friend of mine. We bonded quickly and intensely on America Online, journalistic colleagues and compatriots, the way it happens suddenly, sometimes in cyberspace. Though it makes me terribly sad, I am not surprised at his sudden, suspicious death.
(from the linked article)
Tony Moser, a critic of the Arkansas Democratic Party political machine, was killed as he crossed a street in Pine Bluff 10 days after being named a columnist for the Democrat-Gazette newspaper and two days after penning a stinging indictment of political corruption in Little Rock.
Looks to me like somebody has assumed the identity of a deceased Akansasian in order to escape a past of illicit cat adoption, dick jokes, and charlie-horsing horses. Tony Moser is dead. Long live Brad Brake.
Oh wait... what's THIS?
More Moser-comma-Tony? No!
Yes: Now He's an Engineer? At Calumet U., Indiana? This is fishier than Tony's ring finger. Much like Tony's dating life, I'm getting to the bottom of this.
Oh for the love of car-seat camping... He's a photographer now? I wonder how many ladies shirts and hopes have fallen after that spiel.
Well then, Tony Moser is either an engineer, a photographer, or a corpse at this point. Sooner or later he'll figure out that when he's finally whomever the real "him" is, people will stop thinking he's THIS.
1 comment:
I knew your baby pic would rankle the hair on your back. Always does.
You're no Space Ghost, Moser. Deal.
If you're referring to Ms. Poundstone's "Kids & Wine Coolers" parties, yeah, I'm all up in that like whomever is on a 2nd date with your sister. DEAL!
I miss you.
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