Once My Looks Go, I've Got Nothing

     I recently posted the following on Facebook. Don't worry, it's not family photos:      During war time, bombs get dropped; such is the nature of war. Tragically often, said bombs cause damage far beyond their intended targets. Such was the case one time, with a certain McDonald's, a bastion of unhealthy comfort food in a volatile area. Errant ordnance reduced this greasy palace to smoldering ruins, and it was small comfort that the debris-laden air smelled like french fries for hours afterwards. They say if you visit this site in the middle of the night, you will find a lone man there. He is a chubby fellow clad in black and white, an outfit that recalls old-timey prison garb. He sifts, heartbroken, through the charred remains. "Rubble, rubble," he sobs mournfully. "Rubble, rubble."      On the surface, this seems to be merely a strange joke, perhaps a bit long-winded considering how slight the punchline is. Yet it is also indicative o

     Once upon a time, there was a website called "Myspace.com." A precursor to Facebook, it allowed people, particularly young people and older perverts, to share thoughts and images from their lives via a worldwide public forum and communicate with one another, often via sexually suggestive messages and photos. Though the site eventually fell out of favor and is now populated entirely by ghosts and Justin Timberlake, there are certain Myspace features I do miss, especially the built-in blog. Back when I was starting out joeymarsilio.blogspot.com , I wanted to leech off some of that sweet, sweet Myspace traffic, so I planned a crossover between the two blogs. The end result was "The Return of Friendly Tony," an ambitious opus in 12 parts, published weekly and alternating between the Myspace blog and this one. Alas, once Myspace was taken behind the barn and shot, half the story was effectively buried, much to my chagrin. The time has come to finally do justice to t