"I just want people know out there that I’ve loved my partner for 10 years and I still love my partner." Boomer went on, with the vanilla fill-in Phil Simms sitting right there next to him.
"I loved his family, loved his kids and I am praying every single day that, you know, he lands on his feet." Esiason contined in addressing the listening audience as if he simply cold not stop, as Simms looked forlornly down at his Super Bowl XXI ring.
One cannot ignore the shift from present to past love, and my sources tell me that by show's end Boomer and Simms were sipping from the same milkshake (different straws). There are currently rumors that none other than noted beach bunny Chris Christie shall replace Carton on the show. No word yet if there'll be sharing of milkshakes, but I cannot imagine-so. Unless said milkshake is the size of a smallish lake.
As to Craig Carton: the ADD riddled, restless leg syndrome'd, 'tick' of Tourette's suffering, self-labeled "Loudmouth," with whatever a partial photographic memory is -- was popped by the Feds Wednesday for defrauding customers in a scam that netted $2 million. Also busted was his 'business' partner Joseph Meli. Twixt the two, an alleged minimum of $3.6 million from two of their investors in a concert ticket dealing Ponzi Scheme. It's also alleged that Loudmouth moonlighted by swiping an additional $2M from another investor all on his lonesome. What a go-getter, gentlepersons.
As of this conveyance, Carton faces federal wire fraud and securities charges. There is a plethora of evidence, most notably in the form of emails in which he happily relates to have struck gold and whatnot. All this tsuris began, according to government snoops, mid last year whenst Meli approached him with the scheme as a way “to clean up the debt,” of $2.5 million and frozen casino account. See gentlepersons, the house always wins, even if yer a sports radio jock and strip club owner -- so don't bet the dough dough. Don't bet the bread bread. Don't gamble gelt ya need. Savvy? Lest yer certain to wind up playing tennis in a minimum security white collar prison. Having lost yer day-gig to a rotund lap-dog.
The horror.
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