Last night, Marianne and I helped celebrate Tom Purdom's 75th birthday in the Pope Room of Buca di Beppo. Family, friends, and related celebrities gathered to celebrate the great man's benevolent influence on all our lives.
A splendid time was had by all. Though, truth be told, when Tom started to recite "The Charge of the Light Brigade" in Lord Cardigan's accent ("Half a weague, half a weague/Half a weague onwa'd/All in the vawwey of Death/Wode the six hundwed"), my blood ran cold.
That's Tom up above, as usual surrounded by beautiful women.
And tomorrow I climb on board a mighty jet plane . . .
I'll be on the road again -- or, rather, in the sky, headed for SeaTac, Washington and Norwescon, where I'll be wandering about, handing out small, elegant, and valuable signed-and-numbered limited edition chapbooks to anybody who wants one. This time I'll be giving away copies of American Cigarettes, second in the series of four. My supply of Song of the Lorelei is almost depleted, so I'm thinking these things are going to wind up being pretty valuable.
Above: The Pope Room. Terrifying place. There's a bust of Pope Benedict in a Plexy box on the center of the lazy Susan and periodically it swings around to glare at you. Note Kyle Cassidy and Trillian Stars to the far right.
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