Who is Anthony Chevalier? …or the story of why Tom Jones Shrugged.
By: He who shall not be named…but believe me, he’s a handsome devil

Tom Jones

Hello reader. Since you are reading this, I believe I can safely assume that you are of a curious nature, have an above average intellect, probably hold a venerable social standing in your respective communities, enjoy the occasional “grin” as do the people in the country of Tejas, and most importantly have some time to waste. Well, if wasting time talking about nonsense were honey, call me Winnie the Pooh. Unless of course we are in public, which might be a bit odd.

Maybe you like gin martinis, neat, dry, up, with 3 olives…unless of course you are drinking Hendricks Gin, in which case you would most certainly prefer a slice of cucumber to the 3 olives, as Hendricks Gin is infused with cucumber and a slice of cucumber makes a finer accoutrement…what the Scots won’t think of next? How about anger management?

Maybe you are a “whisky” person. If this is the case, I would venture to guess that it is of the Irish variety. Wouldn’t you like to know how I know this? The key is that bloody “e” that the sodding Irish snuck between the “k” and the “y”. You’ll never find such frivolous spelling in Canada. So, if you happen to find yourself marooned in the Canadian Yukon someday and you happen upon a dog-sledding Eskimo who offers you some “whisky” to warm yourself, though you don’t quite understand him because you never bothered to learn to speak Inuit, don’t be alarmed. That’s just how they spell “whisky” in Canada. Don’t blame the Irish either; after many bloody wars, the English made them put that “e” in there and in many other places…Argh, the bloody English and their incessant determination to add needless vowels to the English language. Why can’t they speak American like everyone else? Plus, don’t you think the Irish have been through enough? Ya know, all the persecution, potato famines, freckles, red hair, and the constant pressure of growing up and become a cop. Don’t worry though. There is no shame in being a “whiskey” person either; you’re just short one “e”.

I could be wrong about all of this. Maybe that’s not why you are here at all. Maybe you are a conisuer of Good Food, a lover of Good People or just a big Charlie Brown fan, I mean Good Grief! But enough about you, that’s not why you called. This is my story, where should we begin?

Let me tell you about a man. Because sometimes there’s a man, ya know? Now…I don’t want to say hero…..but sometimes there’s a man….Well, he’s the man. The man for his time and place. And even if he’s a lazy man, which the man in question can most certainly can be at times. He’s the man, he’s the dude.

He knows why the caged bird sings, but can’t tell you because of copyright reasons.

Some say he’s a 10-foot tall beast man who bathes in vodka and feeds his baby shrimp scampi. I’ve been told that his family crest is a picture of a barracuda eating Neil Armstrong. Did I ever tell you about the time this man took me out to go get a drink with him? We go off looking for a bar and we can’t find one. Finally, he takes me into a vacant lot and says, “Here we are!” Well, we sat there for a year and a half. Sure enough, someone constructed a bar around us! The day they opened it, we ordered a shot, drank it and then burnt the place to the ground. Over the roar of the flames he yelled, “Always leave things the way you found them!” I can neither confirm nor deny any of this, but I can say that he is an unapologetic plagiarist, works daily on his regional diction, and is not a very good speller. Oh, and no, his name is not Bill Brasky, Jeffery Lebowski or John Galt.

Some may think he’s a bit of a narcissist, but they’re just jealous of how absolutely fierce he looks when he gets out of the shower every morning, with the vodka beading off his taut, muscular frame. Though, he did create an entire calendar with pictures of himself to give to people for Christmas, which would support the prior notion. Hmm..

All of this is hearsay. Let me tell you what I know to be true about the man in question.

He’s a humanitarian, but prefers the meat of animals.

He knows why the caged bird sings, but can’t tell you because of copyright reasons.

He can’t keep up with what’s hip these days, but heard something somewhere about Dan Fogelberg tapes and Zima.

He thinks that Ayn Rand makes some fine points but isn’t completely sold on objectivism.

He doesn’t like dirty hippies and believes in good hygiene, especially good mental hygiene. Though he would not recommend threading floss through your ears to get at those hard to reach places in your head. In lieu of that, 9 out of 10 therapists recommend Jameson Whiskey as a mental antiseptic. However, one should note that 9 of the 10 therapists polled were of Irish ancestry. The other was Roman Catholic and therefore recommends Sacristy Wine, as well as 4 “Our Fathers”, 3 “Hail Mary’s”, an “Act of Contrition” and a lifetime of self-loathing and guilt.

He has never claimed that his jokes are all that funny, but they make him laugh.

Much to the chagrin of both his mother and grandmother, he’s not a religious man. Perhaps it has something to do with telling him repeatedly at a very young age that he should consider the priesthood, as it would make said individuals so proud, and perhaps secure them a place in the “Big Show.”  Listen, you don’t tell an 8-year old to become a priest, you don’t tell other people he’s going to become one in front of him or at all, and you most certainly are in charge of your own soul and your own ride to heaven…if that’s the kind of stuff you’re into. That is not to say that he is not spiritual by any means, which he most certainly is. He just simply believes that life is a personal journey, and one should be allowed to find themselves and form their own relationship with whatever entity or deity they resign to believe in.

Above all, he believes in people, unless they are ghosts, in which case he’s not quite sure. I mean he’s never actually seen a ghost or has had any truly ghostly experiences. But he’s heard things. Would you argue with Dr. Peter Venkman?

He learned to tell jokes, stories, and a lot of other BS from his grandfather, whom he loved very much. By the way, what did one snowman say to the other? A: Hmmm, it smells like carrots out here.

He has never claimed that his jokes are all that funny, but they make him laugh.

He is very appreciative of life in general, especially the random qualities and occurrences – like the chance smile from a stranger on the street.

He likes old people words, like davenport, slacks and trousers, but to this day is quite certain that there is no “r” in either “washing machine” or “Washington”, be it State or DC.

He’s a big Tom Jones fan, and if he were ever to attend a Tom Jones concert it would not be unusual for him to throw his panties at the stage too. However, he isn’t now nor has he ever, as far as you know, worn panties.

He prefers boxers to briefs and isn’t quite sure what the whole hybridization of underwear thing is all about. Boxer-briefs, c’mon? Further proof that people generally don’t have a clue about what they really want.

At restaurants, he typically has a hard time deciding what to order. And don’t think that by giving him extra time to decide that it will make the choice any easier. Tell that waitress to get her ass over here and put a little pressure on him!

He was in love with a girl once that was so beautiful that she could have been a waitress. She wasn’t. She was just some part-time model/free-lance makeup artist/IT employment search specialist/part-time student/ full-time mother of 1 very adorable little boy/crazy that screwed him up pretty good for a while.

He has many truly wonderful friends that he’s managed to hang onto over the years. He is somewhat regretful of certain ones that he’s lost, but is entirely thankful for the moments that were mutually shared, be it brief or not.

He is very appreciative of life in general, especially the random qualities and occurrences – like the chance smile from a stranger on the street.

The lenses of his spectacles are not the shade of the rose; he just believes in the best of people and tries to look for it always.

He is many other things as well and perhaps you, reader, will get to know a little more about him should he continue to post random comments or share other bits of his constantly roving mind on this blog.

He would like to get to know you better as well. Because he knows he has a very strange sense of humor, and if you can sort through any of this dribble and come out with any sense of cognizance, then you, my friend, are a rare person indeed. So comments away!

He thanks you for your time and attention and is quite impressed if you made it this far through his rambling nonsense.

Ohh, and one last thing. Don’t be too hard on him. He’s never been too good with a coma…and for some reason, really likes ellipses. ~ Chevalier