TOM MASON

 The Look
Tom "Tommie" Mason was offered a free lifetime membership to Mensa at age 9, but he turned it down, saying he didn't want to be associated with that "bunch of  morons." Up until he was age four, the doctors and his parents were afraid that he might be  the moron, still talking baby talk gibberish. It wasn't until the top linguists from Mayo Clinic were flown in that they discovered he had always been speaking in complete sentences, just in anagrams. Once his toddler ploy was discovered, he quickly tried of his little joke and began speaking Latin. But to this day, he can still do the Sunday Jumble in the time it takes to say  "DURBAS"

 At Pinole Valley high school, he would sit perched atop one of the knife-scarred green picnic tables in the center mall, and play his guitar hour after hour, cutting class after class. The hated administrators wanted to kick his long-haired ass out, but much to their forehead-vein-bulging chagrin, he maintained a perfect 4.0. The most beautiful and lusted after hippie girls gathered at his oblivious feet, not understanding the Charlie Parker solos he burned through note for note, but mesmerized none the less. Frustrated wannabe rocker boys lingered in the shadows, acting bored while slyly craning their necks hoping to steal his licks, but barely able to strumble through "Louie, Louie" in private.

The Hair After high school he was offered the revered Fender "Rhodes" Scholarship, at Oxnard. But Tom thought he could do better in the real world and headed straight for, where else, Reno Nevada. Within weeks he became musical director of...the WHOLE TOWN! Whenever a Frank, a Tony, or a Sammy Jr., rolled into town, it was Tom they called. Tommie himself became a drawing card, married women from all over flocked to the front row tables just to see him. At one point Harrah's had his hair insured for half a million dollars. Doing band leader gigs on weekends, and rock-n-roll on the week nights and be-bop into the wee hours every night, Tom played with everybody who was anybody, and yet, even with nonstop casual sex, he was not satisfied.

 The Man

He returned to the San Francisco bay area looking for something and found it in punk. He co-formed the infamous punk band "The Runz" with his brother Micheal and they were ready to take their rightful place next to the Sex Pistols as the greatest punk band of all time. Naturally, the band self destructed on-stage one night and that was that. It was then that he heard his old chums The Pencilnecks were looking for a guitar player. Not just any guitarist though, they wanted a virtuoso, a guitar god. Tom sat in one night and never left.

 
Tom has always been his own man, a born again bachelor, he has been diagnosed as certifiable genius. He has finished a solo album of what he calls "Destiny of Jazz...Cubed," not to be released until July 4th 2010, "if they're even ready for it by then." He does the NY Times cross word puzzle quicker than a Green Day guitar solo. He's been banned for life from all Nevada Casinos (don't ask) yet he has one of only four "Gold Keys" ever issued by the Mustang Ranch (lifetime freebies). He's been in only two fistfights in his life, one highly publicized on-stage battle with Marty Balin of Jefferson Airplane and the other with Alex Trebec over a Albert Camus question.

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