BlogWorld & New Media Expo just ended and kudos to Rick Calvert & crew, it kicked ass. I was there for two reasons, this blog and my day job for PJ Media. Both of them provided the chance to meet some very cool people and very cool stuff. Now that would make an interesting article if I was Glenn Reynolds and this was Popular Mechanics, but I'm Uncle J and this is B5 so you will get the stories as only I could tell them.
Speaking of Glenn Reynolds, it has long been surmised that he chains law students to banks of computers like galley slaves and then blends up puppy smoothies to power his superhuman output capacity. Not true, he is actually a collection of Cray supercomputers housed in a remarkably affable and convincing human transport. Since this was the most self-referential event in history I sat next to Glenn and watched him take and upload some pics in reality and then watched them appear on my laptop at the same time, he did this while simultaneously conducting a video interview and cooking a chicken dinner. Ouch that just hurt my little brain to consider.
Next the President and CFO of Pajamas Media (above) were taking analyst's questions on the new revenue and distribution models and how PJM was planning to handle the spikes in demand for quality political content in the upcoming season.
I then wandered over to where Mary Katherine
Ham (with Boggsy and me on right) was on the Hugh Hewitt show and something was going terribly wrong, Duane Patterson was gesticulating wildly and they appeared to have cut off her mike, but you could still clearly hear her ranting that Bill Ardolino had been extraordinarily rendered to Diego Garcia and had somehow escaped, jumped a freighter and was now in Pakistan doing mediation between the Waziris, AQ, Musharraf and Bhutto and she claimed all this information came from a shadowy source, Tio' Jaime. Boy sometimes the pressure just gets to people, fortunately Katie Favazza was nearby and hit her with a dart from a tranq gun.
Now I hadn't met our own B5 writer "the Wolf" before and I was a little apprehensive. I mean I know people and they told me plenty of stories that chilled my soul.
He currently runs the only commercial airline flying from Kuwait to Baghdad and you have to be deep, deep into the bowels of the dark side to make that happen. I assume they are infiltrating zionist neocon agents and leaving with priceless Iraqi artifacts as well as all the rendition work they do, I mean c'mon no seats, steel benches with rings for the shackles. Well, the earth shook when he strode into the bar at the Luxor in boots and a broad Stetson. He bellied up to the bar shouldering Euro-trash and hookers out of his way. He opened a leather pouch and poured a big pile of gold coins on the bar bellowing "My friends drink for free and get that riffraff out of here before I have to unlimber my shootin' iron."
All this ruckus roused Matty O' Blackfive from his half-slumber in an easy chair where he had been chatting with a potted plant he believed was Winston Churchill. In front of him were strewn dozens of crystal glasses that each held a different version of the only major spirit that relies on rotting vegetation for flavoring. Matty lurched back into action " Now Winston I must insist that the stinky, perversity of the Dogbungmorangie is far superior to the cloyingly, nauseating Arsehole Glen." He then lit Winston's cigar, which caused a ruckus as the plant went up in flames. But that problem was solved as Wolf whipped something out, a Colt .45 with an ivory handle. He sent a round through the fish tank neatly solving the problem of the burning bush. He then skewered the nearest flopping fish with his Bowie knife and offered it up asking "Sushi anyone?". Of course Chuck Z was right there and as Wolf flipped the fishy in the air Chuck swallowed it whole.
We then adjourned to the Tequila Bar and the timing was good as the wenches were just approaching the saloon. They were tarted up like all get out and looking for trouble. There was the danger duo of Andi and A-dub, (on the left) Sarah Grokking as fast as she could, The Butterfly Wife and riding herd on that bunch was Madame Carla. They left a trail of broken hearts as they traversed the casino, but they cared not and flounced into the place taking right over. A-Dub cracked a bullhide whip right next to the barkeep's ear announcing "If this is the Tequila bar, then where is my damn tequila?" The terrified barman began pouring a shot on the bar, when the glass exploded in a shower of shards. A-Dub reached out and snatched him up by the neck leaning in close and breathing on him that mixture of Cohiba and Cuervo Patron she is known for saying sweetly "You just be a dear and get me a couple of bottles of Patron, and I won't do the same thing to your squash, capisce?".
About then MKH and Katie F showed up, MK was all up beat and chipper showing no ill effects from the earlier tranq dart. I leaned over to Katie and asked how MK was. Katie (on the right) said " I gave her a couple of xanax and a vicodin, she is tickled pink to be alive. "
MK was holding court telling folks how she had received another secret missive from the sketchy Tio' Jaime and that Bill was safely in Waziristan and things were going so well he thought he was going to be knighted. At least that's what it seemed like when they practiced the ceremony and put the sword first on one side of his neck and then the other.
The sound of clattering hooves and a flurry of gunfire announced that the Young Guns had arrived. Boggsy and the Teflon Don pulled up and were wheeling their horses around in circles, cutting dogs in half with their hooves. "Hold up there boys" I hollered, " Violators dismount!". They reined their horses in and tied them off, joining us for a drink. We brought them a barrel of the finest whiskey to cut the dust from a trail half a world away. They told some tales and we drank some toasts to absent companions, because that is what we do.
Following more sedately on their heels was another guy with a long look in his eyes. He had an air that seemed perfect for an old French movie. He pulled out a Galouises, lit it with a wooden match he struck on his low-heeled comfortable boot. He sat and ordered a glass of Raki, " Bad habit" he scratched "Picked it up in Istanbul, 'cept over there they spike it with opium". Michael Totten was back from the Middle East. I had recognized him from a Wanted poster so I already had my gun out under the table. He sat and it was clear he was still in the game, he kept checking over his shoulder until I told him "It's cool brother, we own this place". He relaxed a bit and we began to talk about his trip to Mesopotamia next week. This attracted the attention of a certain Mr. Roggio who has an affinity for the fine cuisine and accomodations of the land of two rivers.
All of a sudden I noticed that all of the wimmens were looking out toward the casino floor, with slack jaws and awe-struck looks. I turned to see and there was a tremendous light, bright like the beam streaming out the top of the Luxor. I shielded my eyes and peered out through my fingers and could eventually make out a rakish figure, first the dazzling smile overpowered the rest of the light, then the outline of an impeccably tailored suit and English shoes comes into focus, eventually the jutting chin, piercing eyes and perfectly-coiffed, executive-style hair show it to be none other than the Vodka Pundit, Stephen Green. With a flash he was seated across from me, and without even uttering a word a Ketel One martini appeared in his hand and his mellifluous voice was intoning a breathtakingly, funny story. I sat in reverent homage until I worked up the courage to address him. "Oh Great Raconteur" I intoned "Will you share with me the secret of the funny?"
He looked at me and and the brilliance of his presence almost overwhelmed me. Eventually he furrowed his brow and beckoned me to lean in close, I anxiously awaited the wisdom he was about to impart as I was an acolyte of the funny. He eyed me closely and patted me on the shoulder saying " Would you mind getting me another Ketel One my good man?"
Wow, what a trip it was. I remain in awe of the incredible bunch of people I got to play with. I had more fun than Hillary Clinton would legally allow and thanks to everyone. If I left you out of the tale, it's probably because I like you too much.