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Late Nite FDL: Blog Whorehouse


Eli was in town today and I got to have lunch with him. It was great to meet him in person, finally, and he told me he’s been so busy the last few days he did not feel caught up on the news. “What’s happening?” he asked.

I had to confess I felt I only had a dim grasp myself. After I live blogged “Libbypalooza: The Orange Pajama Edition” on Thursday, I buried myself in my “real” work Friday and I’ve been feeling a little out of it ever since.

So, I got to thinking, I could sure use a little more bloggy promiscuity from far and wide. There’s so many bloggers out there and I haven’t had time to find you, let alone read the “usual suspects” the last few days. So I’m opening another edition of what I’d like to call from now on “Blog Whorehouse.”

Come on inside! Tell us about your favorite recent post from your own blog, whoever you are. Tell us what kinds of issues or stories you like to cover if you have a blog. Or, if you don’t have a blog, tell us about some real gem of a writer you cherish and read with guilty pleasure, someone the rest of us may not know so well.

Because at the Blog Whorehouse, it’s a free love blog whoring free for all. And if you’re just here for the party, let yourself try something a little different, something you may never have tried before. Expand your horizons. Try reading something someone else recommends, even if at first it doesn’t interest you. We promise we’ll be gentle.

You never know. You might like it!

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Pachacutec did not, as is commonly believed, die in 1471. To escape the tragic sight of his successors screwing up the Inca Empire he’d built, he fled east into the Amazon rain forest, where he began chewing lots of funky roots to get higher than Hunter Thompson ever dared. Oddly, these roots gave him not only a killer buzz, but also prolonged his life beyond what any other mortal has known, excluding Novakula. Whatever his doubts of the utility of living long enough to see old friends pop up in museums as mummies, or witness the bizarrely compelling spectacle of Katherine Harris, he’s learned a thing or two along the way. For one thing, he’s learned the importance of not letting morons run a country, having watched the Inca Empire suffer many civil wars requiring the eventual ruler to gain support from the priests and the national military. He now works during fleeting sober moments to build a vibrant progressive movement sufficiently strong and sustainable to drive a pointed stake through the heart of American “conservatism” forever. He enjoys a gay marriage, classic jazz and roots for the New York Mets.