Oh, saints and scarves. I'm thinking of skewering an incompetent magician in a future piece. Seriously, dude, thinking you're funny when you speak in fake Chinese is so 1979.

There was plenty to like about the party, though: Dressing up. Iced tea. A few minutes with my favorite flute-for-hire. And, fine dinner conversation: One of the older gentlemen at my table reminisced about how, as a college boy, he'd had a side business diving for bodies in the Cumberland, and how he'd had to feel around for the corpses because it was too murky to see. Back then, he'd earn $250 for each find, and tuition at Vanderbilt was around $64 a term.

[/gleeful shudder]

[Subject line is from Schrodinger's Top Hat]