Carlo has never met a bong he didn't like and he used to go by the name Charlie.That's exactly what you'd say if someone were to put a gun to your head and ask you to describe him in one compound sentence. If the gunman pressed for more one more detail you'd say he's one of those boys whose passion for celluloid film seduced him away from his european homeland to LA.
More, the gunman would say. He's fascinated by Carlo.
Carlo has sustained 3 successful relationships with striking Moroccan girls. Proof that he is not only charming in America, but he's charming everywhere. His talents are many. He takes 5 hits from a bong named Bella and creates a meal that forces you to question your ability to cook.
Be careful what you tell Carlo, you'd warn the gunman. You may chose to share an anecdote about the mental instability of Pasadena with him. But Carlo choses to take it. He pitches the anecdote to a man who controls movies. Carlo wears a scarf and orders a cappucino at this working lunch. He casually mentions the many ways in which Americans have ruined the art of espresso. Carlo sells the man on the idea that being Italian makes him a better director. This sell is easy because of the global insistence of Italian superiority. We love Italy so much that we cram Little Italy's into every city where real estate space is precious. We love Leonardo DiCaprio because his name means more than Brad Pitt's. Carlo(who used to be known as Charlie) indulges the voracious thirst of the Italian envy machine. Each revolution ensures that one more gelato shop will open up somewhere in Toledo. He will be whatever you romanticize. You will be whatever he needs you to be.
If you've ever met him as Charlie you will note the striking similarities. In fact they're basically the same person except that Charlie will be seen with you in public. Charlie was a guy you knew in college. Carlo's name is listed on IMDB. You are not sure if it was Carlo or Charlie who cried at the documentary about the dolphins. It all depends on if there is a self serving reason to weep over porpoise. You know that one day you will die 5 seconds too early because you wasted precious mental energy on this thought. In the crowded real estate of your brain, Carlo/Charlie takes up too much space. He's the virus of charm and good chianti.
You wonder about the chicken and egg syndrome of Carlo/Charlie. Did we force the idea of Carlo upon him or did he thrust the idea of Carlo upon us? The idea that one day Carlo may become a global celebrity is frightening. The impending uprising of Italian hipsters in West Hollywood must mean doom for all. Say goodbye to your plastic yellow American cheese. They will torch every last frozen lasagna, insisting that Italian food is very light. You turn your back for one second and fresh basil has appeared in your instant coffee.
Beware boys named Carlo, you'd warn the gunman. And the gunman would let you walk away.