The sprained wrist makes blogging mildly painful.
The evening began fine. The blogger to reader ratio seemed about 50/50. Prominent attendees, in no particular order, included:
- Frequent commenter Wombat Rampant
- The Track-a-'Crat
- A couple Political Castaways
- Bruce F. Webster
- Paco of Paco Enterprises
Conspicuous in their absence:
- Cynthia Yockey
- Little Miss Attila, who will no doubt complain about being on the opposite coast or something.
My shoulder is killing me.
After several hours of discussion about life, the universe, blogging, politics, etc, Stacy finally dragged in. I thought something missing from his attire, but then he seemed to meet the grooming standards for the venue, after all. There was much more chatting, and then people with real lives and jobs began to filter out. There was talk of heading out for a bite, but I demurred, stating that my owner would wish to see me at home. Everyone departed, leaving me and the bartender. Then things went Kafka.
An item was taken from the club. What? You know, I was told. They threw the book at me.
Picking up the book, they threw it open to a binder-clipped page, and forced me to read aloud:
On my sacred honor as a club member, I will never take or allow a guest to remove any item of club property from the premises.Conclusion
Having completed the ritual, they threw me out, to land ingloriously on the sidewalk.
Now, I Really Shouldn't Mention the Right Sleazy Moniker of the Royally Shameful Muthah who put me through all this: that's not how I roll.
All that over a necktie.
Paco reveals some other irregularities that escape my attention while I was...occupied.