Comments on: Pour Me, Pour You http://davidthayer.booksquare.com/archives/2006/08/10/472/ One more bite of the apple. Wed, 03 Dec 2008 23:02:56 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.6.5 By: Booksquare » The Daily Square - Big Saturday Edition http://davidthayer.booksquare.com/archives/2006/08/10/472/#comment-8501 Booksquare » The Daily Square - Big Saturday Edition Sat, 12 Aug 2006 19:51:56 +0000 http://davidthayer.booksquare.com/archives/2006/08/10/472/#comment-8501 [...] Pour Me, Pour YouIt turns out that writers can’t retire to Vegas and start lounge acts when their careers wane. David Thayer worries about these things and more. [...] [...] Pour Me, Pour YouIt turns out that writers can’t retire to Vegas and start lounge acts when their careers wane. David Thayer worries about these things and more. [...]

]]> By: david i http://davidthayer.booksquare.com/archives/2006/08/10/472/#comment-8457 david i Fri, 11 Aug 2006 19:00:33 +0000 http://davidthayer.booksquare.com/archives/2006/08/10/472/#comment-8457 Robert Benchley had a piece back in the 1930s where, when writers died, they went to an afterlife that consisted of a clubby little bar. The writers spent most of thier time sniping at one another and reading newspapers--concentrating on auctions, where they gloated over how much their private papers or first editions are fetching back on earth. The big problem, however, is that none of them can afford to pay their bar tabs, and some of them have reached their credit limit. Every so often, however, a publisher dies, and when he gets to heaven he invariably buys them a round; the publishers are still flush in the afterlife. Robert Benchley had a piece back in the 1930s where, when writers died, they went to an afterlife that consisted of a clubby little bar. The writers spent most of thier time sniping at one another and reading newspapers–concentrating on auctions, where they gloated over how much their private papers or first editions are fetching back on earth.

The big problem, however, is that none of them can afford to pay their bar tabs, and some of them have reached their credit limit.

Every so often, however, a publisher dies, and when he gets to heaven he invariably buys them a round; the publishers are still flush in the afterlife.

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