It's probably best that this guy's identity is hidden behind dark sunglasses. To me he's always been Carlos T. Dogg. The necessity for an alias kicked in when I realized he was certifiably paranoid. Which can happen when you're a ganja-loving government employee with a drinking problem. Carlos is rock solid these days—3 years sober and counting last time I saw him over Christmas. But back in '04 he was...not. He liked his cigarettes, cocktails and cannabis, in no particular order. Throw in the paranoia and you've got a very, very interesting traveling partner on a road trip to Roswell. In this photo, Carlos is summoning the aliens to come and pay us a visit. We were a pair of lovable, open-minded humans who wouldn't be so opposed to an alien encounter. And while most of you are surely assuming no such alien greeting party arrived, I can tell you unequivocally that something strange and wonderful and bizarre did happen that day. And it all started with Carlos and this moment right here on an empty stretch of road 40 miles from Roswell. I intend to write more about that day in my next B.O.B. book. But just know that it ended with me and Carlos dancing with the cutest girls in the joint at an old bar near the top of Canyon Road in Santa Fe. Another story yet to be written....
Do I know you? One man's attempt at a lifelong head count.
NOTE: If you think I might have a photo of you—most likely at least one great photo of you—don't be afraid to ask me to post it (email@example.com) along with a brief entry about how I know you. And if I've met or known you but don't have any photo evidence, feel free to send along YOUR favorite photo of you. (I'm fascinated by what that slideshow might look like.)