A Word on Turd...

Of all the things I looked forward to in Las Vegas, finally meeting Rick Turdpolisher Portier was chief among them. After all, I've read his site for years now, marveled at the parallels that rule both our lives and even traded a half dozen phone calls with him. But meeting the dude in person -- well, you just never know. See, this is the age of the internet - where midnight embellishments go unchecked and self-mythology is the norm. Take your semi-humble lenslinger, for example. Despite what lies I might spread on this precious site, I'm less brazen, more polite and a great deal 'spacier' than my cyber-self would have you believe. Not so with Mr. Portier. From the moment we rendezvoused and began to imbibe, I quickly realized Rick was The Real Deal: a crusty, road-tested raconteur with a kind heart and a smart mouth. With the help of Weaver and an unidentified cohort or two, we wasted no time with formal introductions. Instead, we blew off the steam we'd both brought along, knocked back countless highballs and traded the kind of raucous war stories even WE wouldn't share on-line. Sordid careers in TV news, strong-willed wives at home and a writing compulsion that grows stronger with age - Rick and I have A LOT in common. So while we go 'get a room', do yourself a favor and stop by his blog. The turds he speaks of are real and his polishing skills are legendary. I just hope he didn't find me to be a complete dillweed - as I'd never forgive myself for bumming out one of my heroes. Now if you'll excuse us, we're gonna go pick out china patterns together.

Is that so wrong?