Liveblogging the Pajamas Media launch festivities from the W Hotel in New York, 1
My cab pulled up outside the W a little before 9 PM New York time, and after checking in and dropping my suitcase on the bed, I immediately made my way to the hotel bar, where I found Tim Blair, Roger Simon, and Ed Driscoll bunched around a small table near the restrooms. Ed and Roger were nursing Gibsons, while Tim (who at 5’1? is much shorter than I thought he’d be) was drinking what looked to be IPA out of a pilsner glass inscribed with the legend, “Bloggers Do It In Their Pajamas.”
“Heh, cool,” I said, motioning to Tim’s glass. “You have those made up for the launch?”
“What do you think, genius?” Blair asked, not looking up. “I maybe had it printed up special for myself?”
Ed, who I’d met once before at a Rocky Mountain Blogger bash, threw me a glance that said, “skip it, he’s Australian,” before sliding me a chair. “Take a seat. How was your flight?”
“Fine, nice,” I said, sitting down and looking around for the waitress. I hadn’t had anything to drink on the plane and was really craving a Guinness.
“So”, this from my left, where Roger Simon, sans his trademark fedora, sat smiling and bleary-eyed, holding aloft a half-empty Gibson glass as if threatening to make a toast. “Protein wisdom is in the hizzouse, as the kids say! Welcome! Or‚ as my friend Bill Bixby once said to a French prostitute (god rest his soul), ‘bonjour, you plump little tart!’”
“Bullshit,” Blair hissed. “The Hulk never said any such thing. Any such thing. You fibbing wizened bastard.”
“Absolutely he did,” Simon plucked a cocktail onion from his drink with his fingers. “Paris, 1979. Had her eating out of the palm of his hand, too. Literally. Cake and a little salted herring, I think. Christ, do I ever miss him.”
“We all do,” I said, looking around again for the waitress. Then, “So, you fellas been here long, or…?”
“Fellas?” Blair shot me a look like he’d just found me buggering a wallaby. “Jesus. Tell me you’re not bloody serious, man.”
“Shut up, Tim,”– Simon, waving his hand dismissively. “Jeff’s from flyover country. Colorado, isn’t it? Or Kansas? — someplace like that? Say, why aren’t you drinking? Waitress –!”
“– ‘Fellas.’ Christ. You don’t happen to play banjo by any chance, do you? You bloody mountain hick.”
“You know, come to think of it, I’m a little beat from the trip. I think I’m gonna have to take a raincheck on that drink –”
“– You’re sure?” Ed asked, rising alongside me and shaking my hand.
“Yeah. Air travel is not my friend, as it happens. My legs are really sore.”
“Oh boo flippin’ hoo, mate,” Blair spit, taking the final swig of his beer before slamming the empty glass on the table. “Try flying in from bleedin’ New Zealand, then come bitch to me. After 23 hours, your ass starts to feel like a diabetic’s feet.”
“I’ll bet,” I said, not really sure what he meant. “So. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then…?”
Blair: “Feh. Whatever.”
“Sounds good, Jeff. Thanks. And sorry about this,” Ed seemed genuinely apologetic. “Things should be a little more…relaxed by tomorrow, I should think.”
“Sure,” I said. “I totally understand.”
“Protein wisdom!” Simon raised his glass one last time, sloshing a bit of gin into his shirt cuff. “P-Dub is in the hizzy!” At which point I smiled and nodded and turned to take my leave. Quickly.
Should be an interesting couple of days, if nothing else. Wish me luck!
[originally posted November 2005, to the dismay and distaste and dislike of Professor Althouse, who eventually figured out I wasn’t actually in NY, and that I never actually sat down and met with any of the folks in the (tongue-in-cheek) piece — itself a kind of likeminded follow-up to my 2004 DNC and RNC convention “coverage”.]
Little did you know that 6 years later at the same hotel…
Ehh, maybe you didn’t know it then, but they did you a favor. It never would have worked, any more than it would’ve worked out if you were writing for NRO. One could hardly imagine a more establishment, less-OUTLAW! “new media” center, unless, of course, you’re familiar with “Hot Air”.
Seriously, who ever goes to PJM? You? Me either. Sure, ‘Zo’s good, and Whittle is the diggity-bomb (or some such) but the cream always rises; they’d have found an audience with or without PJM.
If you were going to write for someone else (which I don’t recommend — gotta own the means of production and all), I could see you writing at Reason. Assuming, of course, that they don’t already hate you for some past sin or what-have-you.
Tim Blair sounds like a typical short man asshole, but he is right about what your ass feels like after a 23 hour flight.
John Bradley, every now and again I go check out Wretchard or Insty. And occasionally I pop in on Stephen when he is drunk blogging some event. That is about it. I keep Roger Simon straight from the Roger Simon from Politico and frankly they may be the same person.
I have a hard time keeping Roger Simons straight.
You did read the last part, right Joe?
geoffb: Yeah, but great fiction has a way of getting to the truth even more than the truth. The characters become a hyper reality.
Clare Werbeloff witnessed the whole thing.
Ha ha ha … I loved the DNC reporting. Hilarious.
Still, though, my favorite is the emminem birthday post.
Can be found here — Posting / gonna BE light / ‘cos your girl / She done DE-light / in my fat joint squeaky / sneaky, try to speak, see / but I’m just too large / like a barge / in her sweet sugar stream / I’m a dream / more perfect than I seem, et
Well Herman Cain just suspeneded. But he did say the lies are lies and he did say he will promote 999 and tea party issues. Oh well.
Can we write in Fred Thompson?
Herman is now quoting from the Pokomon movie (no kidding)…is this some reference to Happyfeet?
[…] Screwed Jeff: That’s The Bottom Line Posted on December 3, 2011 11:30 am by Bill Quick Decade Anniversary archive pluck, 2: inaugural Pajamas Media launch post (yes, at one point I was a … Decade Anniversary archive pluck, 2: inaugural Pajamas Media launch post (yes, at one point I was a […]
Once “illegal alien” became “undocumented migrant” it was only a matter of time before “can’t work legally” became can.
And then “citizen” becomes “subject.”
Ann Althouse’s Meghan McCain moment…
Hell, that’s low even for me. Ann is likely a fine person, and a top-tier blogger. Somewhere on the internet, that’s gospel!
Ann has her Meghan McCain moments. Ann voted for Obama. I assume Meghan voted for her dad, but you never know, in the privacy of the voting booth she had a strange mind meld with happy just to say no to Palin.
Ah. The beginning of the end…
CBS News Sunday Morning – Did you know that the Catholic medical service protocol requires that when a pregnant woman is ill, two lives are at stake, two lives must be saved? That the
pedophilic hierarchy of white malesCatholic Church believes that, like, religiously? Even though the reporter has determined that, without the abortion, the woman would die. Not “might”, not “probably”, not “99.999 percent likely” to die. “Will die”.Repeat for 20 minutes or so, then on to fellating Harry Belafonte (just helping out a
Team memberbrother; his career took a little hit recently when he let the mask slip).I’m cringing but I think I have to watch Axelrod and Priebus with the NBC hack.
Gregory to Axelrod – here’s some free advertising showing your previous attacks on Romney. Care to refine the attack?
Axelrod – Delighted to. Not too tough yet, we need to get him
and his magic underwearthrough the primaries.