I am not Tom Moore! I have witnesses

By W? Telmé Moore

You can dispel for once and for all that I might be one and the same as el distinguido licenciado Gerardo Tomás Moore, the editor of this fine publication.
Yes, I am guilty of trying to "borrow" a little of Don Tomás' celebrity and credibility. Yes, I think he's the cat's meow journalistically speaking. But I meant no harm, and so aquí me disculpo once and forever, and say to you, valuable lectores, El Señor Tom and I do not inhabit the same body or psyche. Occasionally when El Tom deigns to look my way or speak to me directly, we share the same common space, like when he says, "If you mean that this woman looked like Minnie Mouse or that she sounded like Olive Oyl, just say so!"
Ay, he's so stern, y si me preguntas la verdad, un poco creido con su perfect elocution and his gigantic quien lo entiende vocabulary. Ta bueno, Tom, nunca jamás shall anyone confuse us again, for I am signing myself the one and only Woncha Telmé Moore, sister of my womb buddies, my quadruplet siblings, Cancha Telmé, Doncha Telmé, and Dincha Telmé Moore.
Laugh all you want. Our Tío Whydja, of the San Ygnacio Telmé Clan, will be over to knock your block off, only he doesn't call it that -- something about rayos.
And speaking of Rayos, how about that mundo of trouble this fellow has found himself in? Oh, what a tangled web we weave when at first we practice to deceive.
Ay, I hate it when the rich pipple fight just before their guests arrive! This pair of cuetes doesn't even put the parche on the pachanga by putting on a happy face. I don't think seething is a welcoming attribute. His ear hair appeared to be in a smolder at a recent party for patriots.
She's got the jabbers real bad again. Is anyone going to take the first step to get her some help, or are her friends waiting for her to fall and hurt herself or someone else really badly?
Choplifting! Are you crazy? A grand in your wallet and you are slipping filetes under your jacket? The checkout line too long for ya?
Lordy, lordy, honey, of course we can tell you had augmentation here, implants there, tratamientos over yonder. I understand you looked like a roadmap or a drawing of a side of beef when they were deciding what to do where.
She gave him so many chances to fly right, but the hombre just didn't want to be married to a good woman. So there he is, dando la vuelta like some young chavo. She, however, got it totally together, went back to school to finish the undergrad, is in a master's program, and is merrily on her way to becoming La Dra. That oughta chafe Mr. Macho's chaps.
Where does she get that attitude of superiority? Even her closest chums on the course have had quite enough of her authority on any subject, something that does not in the least diminish after the sun goes down and the branch water sparkles over ice.
It's Daddy's Money, honey. We are not one bit impressed over how you spend it or throw it about like a party favor. Speaking of favors and parties, mi 'hito, take a long vacation, something that washes away your arrogance.