without todays birthday boy, mr oswald rosenkrantz the busblog wouldnt have ever existed.
and before the busblog there was tonypierce.com and before that there was allstar install.
and before that there was simply darkness
and light.
somewhere in the middle of all that came os.
fluent in french, czech, and hillbilly the youngest rosenkrantz of the boise rosenkrants, os transferred into uc isla vista after being kicked out of princeton for delivering an oral presentation in a ridiculously high voice.
as he tells it it was a fine overview in the downfalls of reganomics and its impact on southern californian auto sales and its correlation to the nations ultimate economic downward spiral, but because everyone in the classroom was laughing so hard the professor couldnt hear.
and eventually he didnt want to hear at all and ordered our man out of the class and damned into new jersey.
a pool shark, a poker cheat, a left handed stepchild who looks good in any hat, vest, or lampshade.
hes the crosslegged doodad floating across your conscious always there always aware always near always dear.
i call him mr. os because he brings the southern gentleman out of you.
one whose bathtub gin tastes hauntingly different than yours.
and thats because its from a meticulously manicured still.
not a spare tub.
class, bitch. class.
os is the type of fella who could wear a pink beret at a rodeo and walk out of the rodeo with two pink berets.
drunk.
and yet appearing perfectly sober.
until the cawwing begins.
happy birthday mr. os.
only one more year till 100.
i hope she knows it’s a date, cuz im treating it like a date.
but only when i take off my shirt.