Tony is out of work. He’s been sitting around the house, naked and drinking 40s, for the last week and a half.

Tony lost his modeling gig. And his hustler gig. And his position as a kept boy. Now all he has is this latest incarnation as depressed couch potato. He has taken to the position with grace, but I’m not so sure it suits him.

Inertia is a demon, and if you allow it to allow you to rest, then you better hope you are at peace. Because if you are anything like Tony, then you may end up in peace.

Unfortunately, Tony and I have this in common. I’m not really sure what we’re going to do.