Gladwell on Gladwell

“I have done well as a parasite, but I’m still a parasite.”

"I'm a parasite. I'm a psychological parasite."

What Happens In Vegas

Grizzled raptor Joe Walsh shreds while Meg Guroff churns out the bass line at the Las Vegas House of Blues.

That is the one of the strangest sentences I have ever written.

Read about it here.


Photo by Brent Humphreys

Viva Lithuanian Hall

Back for an unprecedented 15th year, it's the incomparable, improbable, and inexplicable Night of 100 Elvises, held (naturally) on two nights: Friday, December 5 and Saturday, December 6.

As in prior years, there will be an ice sculpture of Elvis with his guitar; carved by Olympic Gold Medalist, Vivat Hong Pong. The "Honeymoon in Vegas" Jumpsuit, the Searchlight, Showgirls and Oyster Shuckers to the Stars are standard features of this event. Once again, the fabulous wheels of The Karb Kings will be in attendance on both nights.

Buy tickets now. Do it. Your life will never be the same.

Talking About Scrivning

For some reason, my under-qualified self will be unleashing some "Real Talk" about freelancing and writing this Saturday, at the 17th Annual Baltimore Writers' Conference. It's at Towson University, which I think is one of the few area colleges at which I did not commit a misdemeanor in my reckless and trainwreck youth.

Best part: Larry Doyle is delivering a keynote. Not best part: It's at 9 am, and the only time 9 am is funny is if you've been up for the previous 24 hours.

I'm unleashing my own sleepy style at 10:15 on a panel with the smart and go-getting Cathy Alter (who has actually written TWO books) entitled "Taking the Freelance Plunge: How to Create the Network, Write the Pieces, and Manage the Business."

I can do the middle one pretty OK; the others . . . meh.

Six Degrees of Snake Plissken

One of the jurors (#4) in the corruption trial of Alaska's second most famous politician, Senator Ted Stevens, said her father had died and got herself excused from duty. Except by saying "father had died" when she had meant "I am going to the Breeders' Cup in California to watch the ponies."

She apologized for lying, and then started a long rambling story about horses, which included references to horse breeding, the Breeders' Cup, drugs, President Ford's son Steven and her condo in Florida being bugged.

Wait . . . President Gerald Ford's son Steven Ford? The one who was in Escape From New York as Secret Service #2? That is meta as HELL.

Power Troika

From The Big Money

Drop-Top Lyndon

NPS photo, via the LA Times

Throw The Switch

Waiting for this bloody presidential election to just be the fuck over is driving many people crazy.

It's like waiting for jolly old St. Nicholas on Christmas Eve . . . only if, in addition to Santa, there was also a decent probability that Enver Hoxha would plummet down the chimney instead, and get all the kids to work building one-man concrete bunkers, much like the 700,000 he ordered constructed during his party time fun reign in Awesome Albania ("The World's First Atheistic State!")