Just your average Miami Heat fan

By now you might have seen this picture of a worn-out cougar flicking off a Chicago Bull as he headed for the showers.  If you’re picturing her as some Jersey Shore trash, pink-hat, Lebron James superfan…you have no idea.  Phyllis Tobias is just your average Desperate Housewife.  Who needs television writers when a journalist can uncover an absurd back-story that includes a possible homicide? 

She was just pointing to her most valuable asset, her mouth

Yeah, can you believe that this season ticket holder was accused of murdering her husband?  Would you believe it more if those accusations were substantiated by her 300 pound psychic that she had constant contact with, but never met?

http://nymag.com/news/features/43914/

That’s a piece from The New York Magazine published in 2008, warning: It is very long.  I’ll give you some of my favorite highlights, because you have more important things to do than read another article on the internet. 

I couldn't stop reading, as each bizarre accusation and twist, was really the next logical step.  The too-weird-to-be-fiction tale chronicles the events leading up to and following Phyllis Tobias possibly murdering her hedge fund millionaire husband.  I say possibly because there’s a chance no one even remembers the truth with this shit-storm of characters surrounding Seth Tobias; a hard drinking, coke snorting, hedge-funding, regular guy from outside of Philly.  He was just a Boston University grad that kicked around Wall Street for a while before catching a break and working with Jim Cramer.  This was Cramer pre-Mad Money fame.  But Tobias didn't want a show, he wanted a lifestyle.  At one point, his company was worth half a Billion dollars.  Some stories about this guy make me think he watched Wall Street way too many times growing up.  His daily routine may have been too intense for the real life Charlie Sheen.  Spending his days making high risk financial decisions and piles of money, his evenings putting drugs up his nose and possibly having sex with a male exotic dancer named Tiger (aptly named because he has tiger stripes tattooed onto his body).  Tiger was also reached for comment at his parent’s house; I’m glad they endorse their son's life choices.

Seriously, forget what I said earlier; read the whole article.  Phyllis Tobias’s lawyer is one (of her now four) ex-husbands.  Yup.  When I first saw the picture of that bleached out, catcher’s mitt of a woman, my mind conjured up some crazy back story.  A normally perverse imagination couldn't match what these people are saying is the truth.

I’m definitely jealous of Stephen Rodrick and how he got to take some tabloid quality story and turn it into an entertaining piece of writing.  I'd love to be a professional writer, I just wrote 500 words about someone else's article, for fun.  I hope that there's a future in journalism as print gets killed off by The "Meme Generation" (a term that I will claim to have come up with).  Even my beloved Reddit, which once provided hours of interesting articles and websites, has become an image board of tween issues, dumbasses admitting the depths of their stupidity, and a fucking duck that gives advice.  Many people only take time to read something if the words are superimposed over a grumpy looking cat (he does look hilariously upset).

Look! I'm creative! I'm an artist! LIKE ME!

I believe there a lot of folks that still yearn for context and substance, who appreciate well-executed diction and strong rhetoric that can paint a more complete picture.  I also think that you have some crazy stories that are a glass of whiskey and a thesaurus away from being pretty entertaining.  Let me hear about how weird your world is and keep coming back.  Maybe you don't have the next Tobias Saga, but that's not a bad thing.

All great journeys start with one simple stride, except in the modern day. Now, some of them start with a keystroke.

Because I have too much free time and have had a bunch of people tell me I should, I’m going to start blogging.  I hate that term, blog, but the weight of words is only what we give them.  I’ll refer to myself as an essayist to sound more refined but in reality I am aware that I’m a guy at a keyboard, not Ralph Waldo Emerson.

I’m one of those people who can’t turn off their thoughts without the aid of drugs and alcohol.  Since I’m getting older, that happens less frequently and with bigger hangovers.  So I figured, why not share with the internet a glimpse of what’s running through my head?  Some entries may be long, wordy diatribes about the trivial stuff in life.  They might be concise, poignant responses to a social phenomenon.  Or maybe just a picture of a cat.  Okay, probably not that last one, but I don’t want to pigeonhole myself into a single format.  I’m going to kick off this endeavor with a fake question and answer post because talking to yourself is normal, right?

“Foley, the web is full of lunatics spouting off about the mundane things that happen to them.  How is yours going to be any better?”

It probably won’t, but I can use the word fuck pretty eloquently.  So there’s a chance it could be entertaining.

“To call you brash might be an understatement, sometimes you are downright offensive.  Aren't you worried you will offend people?”

I thought that was what the internet was for?  If I offend you…good.  It means you have a pulse.

“What’s your focus?  Are your posts going to have a theme or underlying message?”

Read the URL, the focus is me and the world around me.

“That’s a little egocentric, isn't it?”

That’s a lot egocentric.  But I like to think it’s a better outlet than posting a million selfies up on social media.

“So this is going to be a masturbatory exercise in writing about yourself?”

Well…yeah.  We live in a world where twitter, instagram, and facebook have become a constant exercise of self-love.  This way my thoughts aren't arrested to 140 characters, a 612x612 image, or fishing for likes.  While I will tend to be the center of my writing, because I won’t pretend to know what it is to be someone else, it will be more about the world and how I see it.  I have a bias and my hope isn't to change your mind, it is to get you thinking.

 “I have some good ideas for things you can write about, should I let you know?”

YES!  Nothing is off limits.  Except Terry Schiavo, that’s a dead topic.  If you are a little shy or think that your topic is embarrassing, send me a private message.  I won’t use your name if you spill the beans about your experimentation with anal play.  But I bet you aren't the only person wondering: is one finger enough?  People go through such a wide variety of experiences, you can bet the obscure situations you find yourself in, aren't unique to you, and that’s a good thing.  So I really, truly want to hear your suggestions because I’m a student of people and the world. (But mostly it can be tough to come up with material)

“What if I notice you used a comma when you should have used a semi-colon?”

Eat shit; I’m the ee cummings of blogging.

I hope you get a sense of what I’m going for: a slightly narcissistic Bill Simmons, whose articles don’t drag on like SNL sketches.  If you don’t get a reference or a name, just fucking Google it and learn something new.  Eventually I’ll learn how turn words into links, insert pictures, and add footnotes, but I’d rather know someone is reading this before I go through the trouble.

Love it or hate it, you just read it.