TONY HAS A HEADACHE AFTER TYPING THIS ENTRY.
It's kind of funny. I'd almost completely stepped out from behind the whole Chico Bangs thing, except as an occasional handle at my periodic online hangouts. But recently I've made some new (and, in most cases, awfully cool) friends, and suddenly there's a whole mess of people who think of me as Chico and only Chico again.

And really, Chico's thrilled with all the attention, and will happily service all his loyal followers deep into the next century, and the one after that, should any of y'all live that long. In fact, when I refer to myself in the third person, Chico will talk about Chico's needs first, because if Chico doesn't speak out for Chico, then who will?

Speak for Chico, that is?

More better later, I promise.

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[Edit: This unrelated story came into my inbox this evening: Looking for Chico, by Robert Guskind (via the long-running and always-interesting Cherry Bleeds)]