You may be wondering what I’m doing in New York. I’m not going to tell you, except that I will mention a dreaded phrase: late-night inebriated karaoke. Not me, sweet jebus, but there I was, overwhelmed with culture shock, in a karaoke bar, something I have never experienced before. Let me tell you, Dave can dance if he wants to, Janet does a pretty fair Liz Phair, Rich is an enthusiastic whoever-that-was, Chris truly is angry drunk Dylan, and Bora is hereafter known as monotone Elvis, but Razib stole the show with a flawless, pitch perfect impersonation of a goat on psilocybin being anally violated by an angry Wookie. Purportedly, it was a duet with Shelley, but she seemed to be singing something completely different, with melody, meter, and a single common pitch, and was drowned out by the syncopated howling.
There may be further reports from New York, unless I’m overwhelmed by the madness.