Marking the second time my name has appeared somewhere in the New Yorker magazine, my co-L Upstart judge Ben Greenman‘s employer listed tonight’s Spring Finals in the magazine to end all magazines (at least as far as magazines are concerned). The last time this happened was a Flaneur reading five years ago. I am sure my mother will somehow turn this into “Rebecca was in The New Yorker” like she did last time, conveniently failing to mention that while that is technically true, said “Rebecca” appears as part of a listing furnished by someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows the New Yorker listing guy. Just to keep the record straight. Right.

Anyway, all you New Yorkers (except for the various creepomatic7000s stalking me, you know who you are) are welcome to brave the sweltering Friday evening and amble out to the Baggot Inn tonight to watch three actors read final stories by Cabby McGee (no favoritism, I promise), Some Nice Chick Named Olivia, and a Guy Named Manuel. While the “American Idol” style antics from my cohort are sure to be fascinating and literarily helpful, I will continue to employ the sharply-honed genius tactics I learned from all of my two years at an MFA program and pick the person who is best-looking. To make things difficult for me, all three of the writers are pretty good-looking, so it’s going to be a toss-up. I might have to judge the stories based on which of the actors reading the stories is best-looking, or which imaginary actor I conjure up in my brain while listening to the stories being read is best-looking. Either way, expect a toss-up, is all I’m saying. And a scandal. And even possibly a scandale.

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