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Warning: Cannot modify header information - headers already sent by (output started at /var/www/html/header.php:32) in /var/www/html/includes/page_header.php on line 532 wcur dot fm // View topic - Boorish Pageantry-Part 1.
Posted: Tue Jan 25, 2005 2:44 pm Post subject: Boorish Pageantry-Part 1.
It is my displeasure to announce the moving on of an old friend and confidant. A man whose impeccable integrity and lust for all things zany is unparalleled. Through the visible breaths of February, Thomas “Bony Fings” Bluett will have his map intact and route traced by the cosmos to the windbag windy house of Chicago, Illinois. There, this young rolling stone will enter into the abysmal realm of filmmaking; product placement whores and all. Before the inevitable forgetfulness sets in, allow me to reflect upon the days of yore when Thomas touched us oh so genially.
During high school, Thomas dabbled in thespian enterprises and tinkered in the audio/visual. He produced and directed such productions as, “Computer Man: Armageddon Download”, “Pansy Flowers and Hot Baths”, and “Your Appetizers Are Here, Mr. Senator.” To some these may seem the type of activities in which one would engage if he or she adorned glasses, orthodontic headgear, and a slight widow’s peak, but Tommy had none of the such. Incessant cackling by all-star athletes and local debutantes were slung around the hallway backdrop, but Thomas’s zeal for the stage curtain was uncompromising. There was however the time a perpetrator wrote “Drama Geek Squad Leader!” on his mother’s station wagon one Christmas Eve. This led him into a small period of reclusion where he purportedly saw Hans Solo on several occasions at Victory Park and shook hands with him twice. All in all, he never really conferred with the society types, but it hardly made a difference. He had good lungs, unfettered hobbies, and a beautiful daughter.
According to most teachers and administrators, Thomas harbored much potential similar to that of French nationalist Charles de Gaulle and noted handicapped physicist, Stephen Hawking. It may seem a bit awkward to compare Tommy to people in societal facets not described herein, but the two were comparable with Thomas in a couple respects. His hair looked like the former and he ran like the latter.
On the weekends, he could be seen at the bowling alley scoring in the 240s in attempts to court the more toothfull female populous of Royersford while guzzling the coldest pop. He dated Sally Doppenheimer for a brief stint, but the two seemingly seamless lovers broke it off because of cultural and creative rifts. When asked once as to what was the lovers’ quarrel, Tommy responded, “When I would kiss her, only my tongue would be in her mouth. She never put her's in mine. I told her kissing was a two way street, I mean, meet me halfway, you know?” Sally also purportedly had reservations for Tommy's lack of consideration when the big athletic competition was on the tube.
But enough already of the old Bluett. What about the neo-Trekkie we see before us? Well, my friends, what a difference a couple of years can make on an impressionable moppet. Entering into the fall of 2001, the skies seemed clear, urging him to maintain his ascendance into notoriety. His academia-minded demeanor withstood the first several weeks of his first term, but clouds were gathering just over the ridge.
--------------Part 2 will be with us shortly...excuse him.---------------------- _________________ "Philosophical winter evenings and rural summer days."
"Tom Bluett may set his stars to the greatness of all past imaginations with the ease," said a mutual friend of ours, one who drifted apart from our circle of friends due to his total lack of eloquence. But nevertheless, this garbled quote stuck with me for years, for I'm fairly certain it was a compliment. And if there's one thing old Tommy "Gin Blossoms" Bluett deserves, it's a compliment. In fact, one might say he deserves multiple compliments from every one who's ever come in contact with him, for even the briefest of encounters with this majestic triumph of a human being will result in him touching your heart. Not in an surgeon type of way, more in an E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial type of way.
Tom was bought by his "parents" from a farm where he was found two months earlier wrapped in swaddling clothes. Some say he fell to Earth straight from the heavens above, but one thing was unmistakable, beneath the frail exterior of the young child, there lay a glimmer of promise. For Tom's first 10 years under the care of the Bluett family, this promise seemed to be false. But using cement and only the finest of parental care, what was once a vampire like child who fed off his parents income and patience, became a proverbial redwood of generosity who was destined for greatness.
Today, with less than a week left before his twenty-first birthday, one can only hope that Tommy's inaugural taste of alcohol won't lead him down a path of destruction. But the belief is synonymous that it most certainly will.
Nothing will be able to fill the void that will corrode all of our hearts when Tom leaves for Chicago, except of course, five or six days to forget his existence.
I will now take my leave, but I want to give you all a piece of advice that is not to be taken lightly; if you have not yet experienced the pleasure of sharing a conversation with Tom Bluett, time is running out to do so, so I urge you to introduce yourself in a timely manner.
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