this is/was my awful experience with rich ny elites when i was a poor begging performer in HS and after

class and race have no political party:

https://twitter.com/AnandWrites/status/1092961519250268160

So apparently some famous writer was disgraced this week and a venerable literary organization asked me to fill in for him at a dinner to raise money for imperiled writers around the world.

You won’t believe what ensued.

I get there, and the host introduces me to the guests, accurately observing that several of them are named Bob. (Plus one Bill.)

It’s not an exciting crew, but it’s a good cause, and I feel like I’m enlivening people’s retirements.

It’s in a place called the Players Club. Not as in playas. As in actors. It was founded by John Wilkes Booth’s brother, which should have been a sign of the ambush that loomed.

*cliock the link for the rest*

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puttin' the roota in the toota since 98'