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Apparently he has a following on Twitter - http://twitter.com/AceCartier
There's some great lines in here including- "@EXXXOTICA As You Know I Will Be There. Covering The Event The Way Only An ACE Reporter Can. ;o)



i'm not going to lie, the thrill I experience visiting his page is definitely unhealthy. this may finally be my excuse to sign up -- just to follow the musings of this genetic misfire, as he spreads his gospel across this land like a skid mark on male culture. consider the latest:

"Only Bad Part About This Miami Weather Is A Colony Of Ants Is In The Frames Of My Car. Taking My Car To A Manual Car Wash Right Now."

on the surface you might think "okay, a high functioning downie with rotting food and candy wrappers piled up under the seats can't figure out why ants are in the car" -- big deal, right. but it goes deeper. consider the bear that encounters fire ants for the first time- lumbering and curious at first, then suddenly wild eyed in pain. should one have intervened? absolutely not. let go, let nature. sad as it is adorable, moments like these are the important steps along ACE's spiritual path, as he's living the paradox of the self guided puppet, perfecting the black art of learning to enjoy losing.

the famous theologian William Barclay once remarked,"There are two great days in a person's life -- the day we are born and the day we discover why." for some of us, that life-mission is to help the poor. for others, to learn and celebrate the arts. for still others, to enrich one's self with knowledge. For ACE, it is to wait for the right moment to approach a lady at a porn convention, put on the famous vacant stare to convey the disconnect from reality, and while making a conscious effort to breathe through his nose instead of his mouth, proceeding to rub the small of her back, slobbering in her ear "baby i'm your cadillac- built for comfort, not for speed" -- telling her what she wants to hear.

my heart has been knocked off its pedestal by this human hamburger. when that fateful day finally comes that he takes his mother's .357 magnum from the drawer and spins the cylinder, i'd hope to be there- to hold him in my arms like Jessie Jackson on MLK, complete with blood smeared on shirt after the fact. to be able to say, "I was there."