By inner circle I don't mean just his BFFs. I mean personal assistants, Telly Savalas, etc. Over 40+ years someone has had time to be shut out or drift away from that inner circle.

Somebody in Cosby's inner circle over the years must have seen or heard something. Why haven't any of them spoken up if even to defend him?

*walks away whistling, looking at nothing in particular, quietly drops the fish*

There's more context in the excerpts at the Vice link.

Darklands?

Oh, I see.

Did you enjoy the book?

This is known as the Club Paradise test (similar to baseball's Mendoza line)

I'd want Jackie Treehorn's house in Malibu.

What are you some kind of nazi?

The first three essentials I already have so now I know where to go next. Thanks!

That sounds nothing like what we got. We got dirge, lecture, dirge, lecture, etc. I think he was the second to last performer maybe, definitely toward the end of the night. He stopped the show in the way that makes you think it might be a good time to beat the rush out of the parking lot.
https://www.youtube.com/wat…

Neil Young is the poster boy for musicians whose body of work should approached with great caution. I hated him for years after he brought a Farm Aid concert to a grinding halt by playing dirge after dirge. Only after listening to Buffalo Springfield did I decide to give him another chance but I approach his oeuvre…

Yup, same menu. "Cantina Bell":
http://www.slate.com/articl…

The waffle taco waddles towards the abomination side of the menu in my book. De gustibus…

Was that the quasi Chipotle menu? Bland.

I am usually a sucker for crappy restaurants' combinations of crappy foods (Dorito tacos? Well, I don't normally eat Doritos or Taco Bell tacos, but, sure, order me a half dozen, please) but no, not this. No.

Maybe reading up on this some more will clarify it but I am confused by the assertion that Louisiana Voodoo may not have existed until it was created for tourist traps in the 1970s. How did Zora Neale Hurston know to go looking for it there in the 1930s if it didn't exist?

I have trouble stopping Ian McLagan (you know Mac) from signing things. At first it was a thrill but now I think he does it to spite me.

I don't think it's about feeling mellow at all. It's about waking up somewhere strange and creeping home on Sunday morning, the junkie's paranoia among the straights, "Watch out - the world's behind you."