Justin Zyrr-Winton, blind imbecile?

I once chatted to Elton John for a quarter of an hour, and was surprised when he was paged as I had just thought he was a pleasant pommy who wanted a chat.

Daryl wrote:I once chatted to Elton John for a quarter of an hour, and was surprised when he was paged as I had just thought he was a pleasant pommy who wanted a chat.

I am one heck of a lot less famous or photographed than Elton John (to whose concerts, by the way, I have taken Sharon at every opportunity), but I was once guest of honor at a con that shall remain nameless. It was a fairly good -sized convention, my picture was on the website, it was in the program book, it was on a couple of poster easels scattered around the lobby and registration, and this very pleasant young lady sat down beside me in the bar where I was waiting for Sharon and started talking about my books. It took me about thirty seconds to realize that she didn't have a clue I was the guy who had written them, and I didn't tell her. I just chatted back, asked her how she thought "the author" had handled certain points in the book and agreed that I thought he was a decent writer (she got a little huffy that I didn't seem to value me as much as she did), and we had a lovely time for maybe forty-five minutes or so while I segued the conversation to other authors we'd both read and what we liked or didn't like about them. Then Sharon turned up, collard me, and hauled me off to my first panel.

I went into the panel room, found my place at the table on the stage, put up my tent card, and sat down. The room began to fill, and a couple of minutes before the panel was scheduled to begin, my friend from the bar walked in. She did a little bit of a double take from the door when she saw me sitting up front chatting with a couple of the other writer guests. Then she found her own seat, sat down, and said something to the person sitting beside her.

And which point she squealed, got up, charged over to the stage, shoved her finger under my nose and shook it, and proceeded to tell me that only the fact that she loved my books was going to keep me alive that weekend.

It happens, guys. It really does.

Oh, and I autographed every book she had and put her on the first readers list.

runsforcelery wrote:And which point she squealed, got up, charged over to the stage, shoved her finger under my nose and shook it, and proceeded to tell me that only the fact that she loved my books was going to keep me alive that weekend.

It happens, guys. It really does.

Oh, and I autographed every book she had and put her on the first readers list.

Was this some person on this list at a recent con?

kzt wrote:

runsforcelery wrote:And which point she squealed, got up, charged over to the stage, shoved her finger under my nose and shook it, and proceeded to tell me that only the fact that she loved my books was going to keep me alive that weekend.

It happens, guys. It really does.

Oh, and I autographed every book she had and put her on the first readers list.

Was this some person on this list at a recent con?

No i was not. Although I did see one of you at SphinxCon.

kzt wrote:

runsforcelery wrote:And which point she squealed, got up, charged over to the stage, shoved her finger under my nose and shook it, and proceeded to tell me that only the fact that she loved my books was going to keep me alive that weekend.

It happens, guys. It really does.

Oh, and I autographed every book she had and put her on the first readers list.

Was this some person on this list at a recent con?

was that Rose by any chance?

I forget that this encounter occurred before Princess Elizebth became Queen Elizebeth then blossomed into the Wendy Williams look alike who became the favorite pinup of the RMN as well as the RMMC.
Assuming that the RMMC has an annual Birthday Ball, it must have been quite a coup for Justin to take Elizebeth as his date. Ranks right up there with the Marine who asked FLOTUS Trump to dance at one of the innagural balls.

runsforcelery wrote:

Daryl wrote:I once chatted to Elton John for a quarter of an hour, and was surprised when he was paged as I had just thought he was a pleasant pommy who wanted a chat.

I am one heck of a lot less famous or photographed than Elton John (to whose concerts, by the way, I have taken Sharon at every opportunity), but I was once guest of honor at a con that shall remain nameless. It was a fairly good -sized convention, my picture was on the website, it was in the program book, it was on a couple of poster easels scattered around the lobby and registration, and this very pleasant young lady sat down beside me in the bar where I was waiting for Sharon and started talking about my books. It took me about thirty seconds to realize that she didn't have a clue I was the guy who had written them, and I didn't tell her. I just chatted back, asked her how she thought "the author" had handled certain points in the book and agreed that I thought he was a decent writer (she got a little huffy that I didn't seem to value me as much as she did), and we had a lovely time for maybe forty-five minutes or so while I segued the conversation to other authors we'd both read and what we liked or didn't like about them. Then Sharon turned up, collard me, and hauled me off to my first panel.

I went into the panel room, found my place at the table on the stage, put up my tent card, and sat down. The room began to fill, and a couple of minutes before the panel was scheduled to begin, my friend from the bar walked in. She did a little bit of a double take from the door when she saw me sitting up front chatting with a couple of the other writer guests. Then she found her own seat, sat down, and said something to the person sitting beside her.

And which point she squealed, got up, charged over to the stage, shoved her finger under my nose and shook it, and proceeded to tell me that only the fact that she loved my books was going to keep me alive that weekend.

It happens, guys. It really does.

Oh, and I autographed every book she had and put her on the first readers list.

Did Sharron put you in an armlock when she collared you chatting with a woman at the bar?

runsforcelery wrote:

Daryl wrote:I once chatted to Elton John for a quarter of an hour, and was surprised when he was paged as I had just thought he was a pleasant pommy who wanted a chat.

I am one heck of a lot less famous or photographed than Elton John (to whose concerts, by the way, I have taken Sharon at every opportunity), but I was once guest of honor at a con that shall remain nameless. It was a fairly good -sized convention, my picture was on the website, it was in the program book, it was on a couple of poster easels scattered around the lobby and registration, and this very pleasant young lady sat down beside me in the bar where I was waiting for Sharon and started talking about my books. It took me about thirty seconds to realize that she didn't have a clue I was the guy who had written them, and I didn't tell her. I just chatted back, asked her how she thought "the author" had handled certain points in the book and agreed that I thought he was a decent writer (she got a little huffy that I didn't seem to value me as much as she did), and we had a lovely time for maybe forty-five minutes or so while I segued the conversation to other authors we'd both read and what we liked or didn't like about them. Then Sharon turned up, collard me, and hauled me off to my first panel.

I went into the panel room, found my place at the table on the stage, put up my tent card, and sat down. The room began to fill, and a couple of minutes before the panel was scheduled to begin, my friend from the bar walked in. She did a little bit of a double take from the door when she saw me sitting up front chatting with a couple of the other writer guests. Then she found her own seat, sat down, and said something to the person sitting beside her.

And which point she squealed, got up, charged over to the stage, shoved her finger under my nose and shook it, and proceeded to tell me that only the fact that she loved my books was going to keep me alive that weekend.

It happens, guys. It really does.

Oh, and I autographed every book she had and put her on the first readers list.

I had much the same experience when I sat and chatted with Craig T Nelson on a flight from LA to Spokane WA. I didn't recognize him until my Mom pointed him out after retrieving both of our luggage from baggage claim.

runsforcelery wrote:

Daryl wrote:I once chatted to Elton John for a quarter of an hour, and was surprised when he was paged as I had just thought he was a pleasant pommy who wanted a chat.

I am one heck of a lot less famous or photographed than Elton John (to whose concerts, by the way, I have taken Sharon at every opportunity), but I was once guest of honor at a con that shall remain nameless. It was a fairly good -sized convention, my picture was on the website, it was in the program book, it was on a couple of poster easels scattered around the lobby and registration, and this very pleasant young lady sat down beside me in the bar where I was waiting for Sharon and started talking about my books. It took me about thirty seconds to realize that she didn't have a clue I was the guy who had written them, and I didn't tell her. I just chatted back, asked her how she thought "the author" had handled certain points in the book and agreed that I thought he was a decent writer (she got a little huffy that I didn't seem to value me as much as she did), and we had a lovely time for maybe forty-five minutes or so while I segued the conversation to other authors we'd both read and what we liked or didn't like about them. Then Sharon turned up, collard me, and hauled me off to my first panel.

I went into the panel room, found my place at the table on the stage, put up my tent card, and sat down. The room began to fill, and a couple of minutes before the panel was scheduled to begin, my friend from the bar walked in. She did a little bit of a double take from the door when she saw me sitting up front chatting with a couple of the other writer guests. Then she found her own seat, sat down, and said something to the person sitting beside her.

And which point she squealed, got up, charged over to the stage, shoved her finger under my nose and shook it, and proceeded to tell me that only the fact that she loved my books was going to keep me alive that weekend.

It happens, guys. It really does.

Oh, and I autographed every book she had and put her on the first readers list.

I had much the same experience when I sat and chatted with Craig T Nelson on a flight from LA to Spokane WA. I didn't recognize him until my Mom pointed him out after retrieving both of our luggage from baggage claim.[/quote]

As a journalist in Palm Beach County (my retirement job) I interviewed a lot of really charming people. I noticed that a lot of really important people could be charming and some others could be obnoxious.

I interviewed Tommy Lee Jones at a cafe in Wellington, Florida and he was not only nice by smart. But he invited someone over he introduced as his college roommate. The guy was not nearly as nice and spoke to him as if I didn't exist. That was Al Gore who didn't bother with introductions.

By the way I also had an early morning interview with Michael Douglas and I can report that Catherine Zeta Jones fairly early in the morning without makeup is still gorgeous.

TFLYTSNBN wrote:I forget that this encounter occurred before Princess Elizebth became Queen Elizebeth then blossomed into the Wendy Williams look alike who became the favorite pinup of the RMN as well as the RMMC.
Assuming that the RMMC has an annual Birthday Ball, it must have been quite a coup for Justin to take Elizebeth as his date. Ranks right up there with the Marine who asked FLOTUS Trump to dance at one of the innagural balls.

Do we know what rank Justin attained during his service with the RMMC?