March 02, 2007

Overheard, 6

"I suppose I should cover Rudy's speech."

"Yeah; I should too. But I don't want to. He's such a fascist."

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I Saw James Joyner Plain

. . . last night. It's so cool to meet people who have been supportive of my work over the years. James and I started out blogging around the same time: his site got big, while mine remained strictly a boutique affair.

But it was lovely to meet him. He's just like I pictured him—only taller, and quite a bit more good-looking.

Isn't it odd that we tend to know exactly what female bloggers look like, even when we don't know their real names? Yet men are less likely to feel they need to exploit their attractiveness for the sake of getting hits. Some say that gives chicks an extra edge, but these people are only partly right. It's just like everything else pertaining to gender relations: different. Not equal, not unequal. Simply different.

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Overheard, 5

"What happens at CPAC stays at CPAC."

[pause]

"Does that imply that there's a whole different convention that I'm missing out on? And where, exactly, do I find it—outside of Stephen Glass's fertile imagination? Come on: help a sister out."

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Naturally, I Forgot

. . . that things are so hectic here at CPAC, one doesn't really have time during the convention to actually, you know—blog.

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March 01, 2007

I Have to Admit

. . . that it's slightly unnerving to blog surrounded by the glitterati of the sphere: people like Kirsten Powers of It's Out There, Mary Katherine Ham of Townhall, and Sean Hackbarth of The American Mind.

There are television cameras all over; I hope I don't feel compelled to pick my nose.

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February 28, 2007

Oh, Dear.

There's been some horrible misunderstanding: some of us are here to goof off, and some of us are here to actually work.

You didn't think I was in the latter category, did you?

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Hello From the Hotel Six

. . . of Embassy Row.

I'm stoked to be here; thanks for sending me.

I understand that I'm supposed to be providing Early! Breaking! News! from D.C;, but I'm tired from travelling all day.

What if I simply promise to be extra snarky for the next three days?

After all, weblogs are all about transgression!

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February 20, 2007

It's a Lock.

I'll be covering CPAC this year after all.

Thanks for the money, and please keep sending it.

Thanks also to the folks at CRC Public Relations, who will be feeding the bloggers lunch. That will be nice: last year I ate about one real meal a day, and lived on protein bars the rest of the time. It would have been okay, but D.C. doesn't seem to have a lot of fruit stands—so it was rather an odd diet.

Fortunately, I ate very well when I landed at my friends' place in Baltimore, and they saved my pudgy middle-aged midsection.


That is the nicest part of the trip, I must admit: seeing my friends, and their well-behaved kids—one boy, one girl. (Both fun to talk to, and neither one predisposed to yell. They are curmudgeon-proof children, and they let me borrow their books: I adore re-reading kids' books when I'm recovering from a stressful event like CPAC.)

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February 10, 2007

I'm Still Here.

But I have a slight case of client-itis: the office gig and the magazine are each taking up a fair amount of my time.

The volunteer commitments are also, um, blossoming. I keep meaning to cut down, but then something looks like it's about to fall, and I can't help but reach out to save it—bless my co-dependent little heart.

Furthermore, I have to work ahead, in case I am able to make it to CPAC at the end of the month: next week I'm working plenty on the paying gigs (again: this is a good thing), as well as getting the monthly newsletter for Ye Olde Nonprofit taken care of.

In summary, thanks for all the money; keep it coming. And blogging will be light for the next two weeks.

But it's looking good for the trip: I made a tentative hotel reservation. I'll be waiting until the last minute to buy my plane ticket, naturally. (Flying redeye: that's one advantage to being a night owl.)

You guys are the bestest readers ever.

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February 16, 2006

Warhol Had It Almost Right.

Turns out, everyone's famous whenever Glenn gets around to it. He's got the CPAC podcast up now, including impromptu interviews with bloggers and participants, including me (no, I haven't listened quite yet: like most people, I dislike the sound of my own voice when it's been recorded).

Two interesting exchanges as we spoke right before the "tape" started rolling:

Glenn: I should link your site more. I've been thinking of doing an entire entry on "people I don't link to enough."

Joy: Don't get into the mindset that you bear the weight of the blogosphere on your shoulders.

Glenn: I'm glad you said that. Some people take it personally when I don't link them.

Why was this hilarious to me? Because most of us do feel twinges of irrational guilt from time to time, and it's interesting that Glenn isn't immune. Clearly, he tries to use his powers for good as much as possible—which I find admirable. After all, I'm not sure I do any such thing.

• • •

And there's this one, which occurred just as he moved to turn the mic on—

Joy: I've been really good about not getting starstruck, but it's starting to hit me now.

Glenn: Oh, don't do that. Blogging stars are like bowling stars: no one in the outside world cares about them.

It was a sweet thing to say. Though I doubt many bowling stars can raise millions of dollars from venture capitalists to start bowling-related businesses. Even when several of them get together.


Call me an ass-kisser, but if someone drew a nasty cartoon about Glenn, I'd really be upset.

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February 15, 2006

Shattered!

During the CPAC bloggers' main bacchanale at the Marquee Bar and Lounge—hosted by the wonderful Mike Krempasky—the subject of Stephen Glass' old work of fiction on young partying conservatives kept coming up. Several people wondered if the story itself was available online, and whether Glass had really alleged that young conservatives were cokeheads.

Oddly enough, former Wonkette Ana Marie Cox discussed that shaggy dog story in Mother Jones several years ago, debunking it and other Glass-related fact-checking fiascos.

In the snippet she quotes, the "young conservative" event was at the Omni Shoreham Hotel, but it takes place in the spring (so theoretically it wouldn't have been CPAC), and the cons in question were smoking grass rather than snorting coke. And Glass didn't appear to be making the point that a lot of conservatives are really libertarians—but rather that his imaginary right-wing friends were hypocrites.

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February 13, 2006

I Don't Want to Leave.

This is such a pretty town anyway, and right now its skeletal trees are accented with white.

The thing I dreaded most about coming out here has been the most fun: I was spooked at the idea of having to walk 15 minutes every day to the Shoreham hotel&mdash&or 20 minutes to the Metro stop—but after I got used to the fact that it's nippy here, I remembered that I love towns I can walk around in, whether it's sedate Santa Monica, the bohemian end of Chicago, or glass-and-steel-laced Manhattan.

It's been a great experience. Today, I go back to the Mall to photograph a few of the monuments in different light, and check out the war memorials (Vietnam, WWII, and the Korean War). Then it's off to Be More for a couple of days with Professor Purkinje and his family.

BTW: why do they call it a "mall"? I went down there looking for a Baby Gap or a Victoria's Secret, but they had neither. Nor even a Crate and Barrel. If you want to know the truth, I feel a bit led on.

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Harrell's

. . . having a little fun with the "defend Ann Coulter no matter what" crowd.

Apparently, those of us who don't like ethnic slurs are on a slippery slope: first you're objecting to the term "ragheads," and—next thing you know—you're applauding a new, worldwide Caliphate and/or submitting to the installation of Sharia law.

It's true: two days ago I got pissed off at Coulter's bigotry. Now I stop men on the street—guys with dark coloring and strong noses—and ask them if they'd consider stoning me to death.

I keep getting misunderstood, though: Most of these guys are Jewish, and nearly all of them assume I'm trying to score some weed. I keep getting pointed in the direction of Georgetown University. Sigh.

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February 12, 2006

Well, One Data Point Should Do Me, Here.

Mexican food in the nation's capital sucks. Not to the same degree that Mexican food in Europe sucks, but it's pretty lackluster stuff. My tamales last night were bland, and the salsa that accompanied our chips didn't have nearly enough cilantro in it—but did have black pepper, of all things.

And the margaritas were terrible. I mean, they used good booze, but they make them too sweet. Even ordering a Cadillac-style margarita didn't get them to dial down on the sugar. It almost tasted like they were using some kind of a goddamned mix, though that's such an outrageous thought that it could simply be that they're using a sucky recipe.

Once I realized my partners in crime were sold on the oversweet Margies, I powered a few of them down very quickly, figuring I'd need a bit of a buzz to survive the next few.

And I woke up feeling fine. Once more. What does a girl need to do to acquire a hangover in this town?


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The Short Write-Up of Gingrich's Speech Yesterday Evening.

1) He's definitely seeking the nomination in '08.

2) He can be a very charismatic speaker. Not bland like George Allen, nor bordering on insanity, like Tom Tancredo. He creates a lot of excitement, without resorting to "wingnut code," such as talking about the New World Order.

3) Newt and his handlers have a flair for drama, and clever ideas for creating excitment and momentum.

4) A lot of his most passionate support seems to come from college-age kids who have lots of energy and clearly would be willing to put in lots of volunteer hours for a campaign.

Our best candidates are clearly Rice, Guiliani, and Gingrich. (I do not count the guy who's attacking the Bill of Rights: if it came down to him or Hillary, I might vote for Hillary. Or just stay home. I will not vote for that man.

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February 11, 2006

Lunch Today

with David Foster of Photon Courier and Chicago Boyz. What a nice man. And smart. He's semi-retired, but I've decided to label him a Maryland beach bum, because I like the sound of that. We stopped in at a Chinese restaurant and worried together over green tea about the future of Google, privacy in this country, the concept of free speech, and some other issues I'll cover later so I can pretend that his penetrating insights were really my own.

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Will Someone Vid-Blog This?

Apparently, Reynolds will really be beating up on CNN tonight, but I may still be listening to Gingrich's CPAC speech around then. I'd truly hate to miss it.

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February 10, 2006

Sparkle

. . . wants to know what Ace of Spades is like. I can't say much, except that he was gallant enough to walk Wendy and me across the bridge to the block where we're staying. And that there are two types of comics: the immature, hostile type, and the mature, sweet type. Ace is the latter, but I don't think I'm supposed to say that. So: while in our presence, he did hoist one black flag, but he only slitted a single throat. Or maybe two. (Possibly a third, while I sneaked off to the ladies' room in my bare feet, looking for all the world like a Californian out of water in a fancy East Coast hotel. But I can't vouch for that third casualty.) The bartender cleaned up the mess, and that was really the end of the whole matter.

For some reason, tonight I was able to procure a few drinks that were weak enough for me to stay out a bit and act like a human being. So I spent time at the Marquee Bar with bloggers too numerous to list—though including our host, Mike Krempasky, Cam Edwards,Tom Bridge, and a few legitimate people with real jobs. Then we adjourned across the street to Murphy's, where I had potato skins and another gin and tonic, listening to Ace's jokes, Wendy's stories, Sean's anecdotes, and the vignettes of the witty guy who started Football Fans for Truth during the '04 campaign.

At one point in the Marquee, I was introduced to Jeff Harrell, who hadn't been sure he'd be here for CPAC at all. So I put down my G&T and embraced him. Somehow the person I'd been talking to got the idea that if only so-and-so introduced him, he'd get a hug as well.

Of course, that's not how it works. Sorry.

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Had I Mentioned Lately That My Sister is Half-Syrian?

No?

Well, it's true. And Ann Coulter can get fucked.

Wasn't it James Joyner who coined the moniker "our Michael Moore"?

I'll never buy one of her books.

UPDATE: Nice little roundup of right-wing outrage here.

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Lunch Yesterday

. . . with my cousin Pillage Idiot, who lives and works nearby. It's always nice to meet someone whose blog I love to read: after the first few minutes, the strangeness of it all melts away, and you're cracking jokes. Look Ma—no keyboard!

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