Poor McCain can't get a break—Stacy McCain, that is. He and Matt Vadum hosted the social event of the season last night, a "VIP-only" reception in a hotel near CPAC.

The noise levels led to security emptying out the suite Stacy and Matt had rented for the night, so a number of us ended up at the hotel's bar. Over the course of the next few hours, people migrated in ones and twos back up to the suite, and spoke in hushed whispers; security patrolled the hall, ready to bust the party up if there were any more noise complaints. But the beers were free (as opposed to the situation at the hotel bar, wherein it was an accomplishment simply to get served by the overwhelmed staff).

As was not uncommon at a Stacy-promoted event, the place was crawling with young people.

There was tremendous temptation to simply sit on the sidelines and observe the changes that came over people after drinks number 4, 5, and 6. And yet when I was there I introduced myself to people, trading cards when the situation demanded it and talking about everything from Bible translations to how one might bring about a resurgence in interest in old right-wing talk radio and television hell-raisers.

And then it was time to leave; I came back here to my own hotel and downloaded the pictures, which look like they may have tremendous value as blackmail material.

But despite all the effort, we were unable to achieve the level of debauchery Stephen Glass once envisioned. A bittersweet thing, that.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 03:34 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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