Friday, March 30, 2012

George's letter to Santa from when he was 5-years-old (X-mas 1972) and George's phone message to me Today March 30, 2012

Yesterday I posted a letter to Santa Claus from 1972 - but I made the mistake of not blurring out the address.  Here's the letter, with the address now properly blurred out.  It's a Gaussian Blur for all you Photoshop fiends out there.  Please click on the letter to see it bigger.

The letter was written by my very close friend and colleague, George Psillides - a true blue citizen and upholder of the Comic's Code.  This is the message I awoke to on my iPhone this morning.

Except for a few covert trips to Canada (George does occasional secret work for the government), George still lives at the same address as he did in 1972.  Due to this fact, he became enraged, because, according to him, top tier Identity Thieves are cruising the internet - specifically looking for people who wrote Christmas Lists in 1972 - especially those that asked Santa for a Flintstones Chip-Away.  These specialists don't check Google or The Phonebook or try to hack into the Visa mainframe.  They come here, to Frankie's Apartment, and look for really minor blog posts - any that might have an address - or the mention of Snoopy Toothbrushes - then these heinous fiends put the big con in motion.  It's no ordinary sting - it's not like they rack up a crazy Macy's bill on your Amex - the guys George is talking about literally TRANSFORM themselves into YOU (using magic AND science) and you just fade away, like Michael J. Fox almost did in that photograph from Back To The Future.  I'm not sure how they do it.  But George says they do it.  And they're bad.  And they've been looking to destroy his life for years.  "If only we knew his address," they say.  Now that I've blurred it out, they're probably really ticked off, saying things like, "Well, he may have outsmarted us again, but we'll get him next time!"

This is George in 1994 on a prank call.

This is George in the 80's, trying to be New Wave and cool with his Swatch.

This is George in 2009, relaxing in one of his many lavish bedrooms.

The saddest part of the whole story is that when I asked George what Santa got him from the list, he said NONE OF IT. All he remembers getting was some OTHER kind of toothbrush, one that was no where near as good as a Snoopy.