How Anthony Weiner Became Carlos Danger [Click for full post]
OK, Anthony. If you’re going to get back in the game, you need an alias. And not just any alias. You see, a man livin’ on the edge needs a name on the edge. A sunglasses-and-‘stache, panty-droppin’, blast-some-AC/DC-and-fuck-me-on-the-deck-of-the-speedboat kind of name. This is not your Joe Schmo-level sexting here. This is some James Bond, John McClane, Jack Reacher-level shit. So strap in, and get ready for take-off. It’s go-time.
Time for some inspiration. iPod Nano in the iHome. Playlists…. “Flex/Air-Hump in Mirror”. Yeah, that’ll do. That’ll do just fine. Shuffle. Well, well, well. What do we have here? “Smooth.” With my man Rob Thomas from Matchbox 20. Oooo yeah. Boy can sing. What a song. You know it well, the song that always gets you so… riled up and ready to go. All horned up from those Latin rhythms. By none other than… why, the ‘stached bandana-man himself, Mr. SANTANA. SANTANA, COMMA, CARLOS. Keep reading