To get started with this, I had to call Tony Millionare. I mean, originally when he said something about me writing this he said he wanted it to be as dirty, as obscene and as insane as possible. But when I thought back on it, I realized that we really were dirty and obscene and quite insane, back in the day, and that maybe he’d want to reconsider given some of the more fecund memories, such as the almost endless stream of “fatties” he picked up after long nights of drinking, or due to the many times he drunkenly bonded himself to street signs and cried his eyes out, or such as the night that he went to Bharmacy and seemingly “materialized” at the bar (he had no idea how he’d gotten there) holding a broken camera, just before a green-beret like character tossed him out on hjs ass. Even though I am not writing this purely as a blog about Tony millionaire’s Maakies, I thought I should at least go into how I first met Tony millionaire—since it is at his behest I write ths—but in order to tell that story I must tell the story of how I first got myself strangely freakily surrounded by cartoonists, something I never imagined when I moved to New York City. I even dated Dame Darcy for a while (another story that I will tell about later, and a story well worth listening to). Anyway, Tony said it was OK to talk about anythng I want, except a couple of things, but don’t worry, I’m going to talk about anyway, just a little later –because you need to know.