Inhuman Swill : NYC : Page 6
            

South Carolina state treasurer Thomas Ravenel has been indicted on federal charges for cocaine distribution.

Buried at the bottom of that article, you'll see that Ravenel is the South Carolina state chairman for Giuliani's presidental campaign.

Is it coincidence that Mayor Bloomberg, only a short time later, announces that he is leaving the Republican party?

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I can't believe neither Laura nor I had ever eaten at Peter Luger until last night. It was worth the wait, and the money, and it fully lived up to the hype.

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Never again

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The never-agains are starting to come thick and fast. I realized already that I may have eaten at our favorite Greek restaurant, Aliada, for the last time. But just now I realized that I will never again buy a 30-day MetroCard.

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In more news for New York SF fans, check out the HBO Bryant Park Summer Film Festival schedule and start planning your picnic for June 25th.

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King Kong Radio Theatre
If you're a New York science fiction fan, you have no excuse. You know where the theater is already. It's the Red Room, and it's upstairs from KGB, home of the KGB Fantastic Fiction reading series. In fact, if you've been to a reading at KGB, you've probably heard stamping feet or caber tossing or whatever it is they do up there that makes so much noise.

But now I'm urging you to grab some tickets and hie thyself to the Red Room Thursday through Sunday until June 10th for 75 minutes of radio drama you won't soon forget. The show on tap is RadioTheatre's KING KONG, but rather than describe it for you here, I'll simply point you toward my review at Sci Fi Weekly:

King Kong An off-off-Broadway production brings the Eighth Wonder of the World to the most intimate stage of them all—the stage of the mind.  [review]
If you love King Kong, radio drama, or both, you need to treat yourself to this show. As an accidental booster of genre theater in New York City, I want to see it again myself, though with moving preparations it's not clear that I'll have time.

Oh, and mark your calendars for this fall, when RadioTheatre presents its H.G. Wells Science Fiction Festival! I'm going to have to try to come back to town for that one.

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Telescoping the Nebulas

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Laura and Bill
Let me start by saying that I had a fabulous time over the weekend. I lost a Nebula to James Patrick Kelly, but I wasn't unhappy about it. Burn is a terrific novel novella, and it's pretty incredible that after nine at-bats this is Jim's first win.

Anyway, the weekend started for me last Thursday afternoon, and between then and about 2:00 am Sunday Laura and I hung out with Sheila Williams, [info]asphalteden, Bianca Miele, Trevor Quachri, [info]paulmelko, [info]paulwitcover, [info]bobhowe, [info]eleanor, Jim Minz, Paolo Bacigalupi, Jack Skillingstead, Scott Edelman, Toby and Emily Buckell, Steve Feldberg, Jim Kelly, John Kessel, Craig Engler, Jae Brim, [info]rajankhanna, Barbara Krasnoff, Jim Freund, Chris Cohen, Marc Zicree, Brook and Julia West, Rick Bowes, Jeff Ford, Wil McCarthy, Daryl Gregory, Shawna McCarthy, Wayne Barlowe, Gordon Van Gelder, John Joseph Adams, [info]slushmaster, and probably a couple dozen other people who are slipping my mind just now. I also appeared live on Jim Freund's radio program on two hours of sleep, had a lovely breakfast with Jack and Maureen McDevitt, and helped direct Norman Spinrad to the nearest subway station.

Hour of the Wolf 12 May 2007, full audio 
5:00-6:10 amMP3 file31.3 Mb
6:10-7:00 amMP3 file21.9 Mb
A dinner out that Laura and I organized for a relatively modest-sized group of folks turned out well, and just as we in our nefarious scheming had hoped accumulated many more participants as we strolled across lower Manhattan from the book signing to the restaurant. Like iron filings to a magnet! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha! Good thing Laura had the foresight to make a larger reservation than we believed we would need.

The banquet and awards ceremony itself were interminable. Thank God the novella category came early in the program or it would have been even worse. Even so, the nervousness didn't start settling in until during dessert. Or maybe the delicious cheesecake concealed a botulism virus, I don't know. Laura and I were fortunate enough to sit at the Asimov's table with Sheila Williams and my fellow nominee Paul Melko, who cut quite a handsome figure in his spiffy tuxedo. (Brian Bieniowski and I looked good, but we were still hopelessly outclassed.) As I said above, Paul and I lost to Jim Kelly, but we're saving those acceptance speeches because we'll face off again in Yokohama. Better sharpen that katana, Melko! Dou itashimashite!

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Shout out to my peeps

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Hey, lunch crew. This one's for you. Good to see you all.

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You're a real gone guy

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He's highstepping up the subway stairs ahead of me—tall, soda-straw thin, hair cut Ivy League style and slicked back on top, long sideburns curving to points near the corners of his mouth—back rigid, knees rising and falling in a bizarrely quick clockwork rhythm. Tight black denim jacket, pegleg jeans with the cuffs rolled up, black sock, Converse hightops.

As he pulls away up the ramp at the top of stairs, twisting the throttle, I think to myself, Now that must be the Stray Cat Strut.

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What's that you say, Reuters? New York's pedestrians are the eighth fastest in the world? Are you sure?

Pedestrians in Singapore were crowned the world's fastest movers, walking 30 percent faster than they did in the early 1990s... Copenhagen and Madrid were the fastest European cities, beating Paris and London. And despite its reputation as "the city that never sleeps," New York ranked only eighth in the pace race, behind Dublin and Berlin.
We score that high? Because when I go out walking, I am stymied by the slow. Not sure I want to live in Singapore, though. Copenhagen might be nice.
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Short takes

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A big cookie lies pulverized in a tight accretion disc in the bus lane of Madison Avenue. Two black (soot-stained?) pigeons peck away at the unbelievable bonanza. Peck peck hop peck.

Cars are coming. A gray sedan bears down. Fly, pigeons! Get out of the way! Pigeons, why can't you hear my telepathic command! CAR!

Black wheels chew up the meters. With an annoyed flutter the pigoens hop aside at the last possible instant, wings a finger's width from rubber mayhem.

Hop hop peck peck peck.

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The Accidental Terrorist 30th Anniversary Sale

Signed editions
that even a
missionary
could afford.

Order yours now!

William Shunn

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