So I was watching an older episode of "Dirty Jobs" the other day. It was the one where he works on the goat farm with the fainting goats. Have you seen these little guys? They are just normal goats, but at certain times they faint. Dead away. One minute they are cavorting about as goats do, the next their little limbs go all stiff and they fall down on the grass and stare blankly. They get back up after a few seconds, no worse for the wear. Quite amazing really.

There is a theory that this is where 'Scapegoat' came from. If you had a herd of goats (regular ones) and a handful of fainters, when the local wolves jumped your herd, you could count on a fainter going all stiff and becoming a sandwich for the wolves letting all your other goats get away.

Why am I telling you about scapegoats? What in the heck do goats have to do with anything?

Last Wednesday night I caught a plane from Dulles airport. My flight was the 10 pm red eye to London and I got to the airport with plenty of time to spare. I grabbed a quick dinner at one of the fine airport restaurants, wandered about the airport for a bit, hit the BA lounge for a scotch and a glass of water, then got on the plane. -- Sounds okay so far huh? -- We took off with no troubles and had been in the air for about 20 minutes when I started to get very hot. I couldn't get comfortable in my seat and started to feel a little nauseous. Uh oh, maybe the tuna melt I had for dinner wasn't quite right. This could be bad.

I got out of my seat and started toward the toilet when I realized my mistake. Right after I stood up, my vision started to fade around the edges. My eyesight was totally gone by the time I made it to the door and I knew if I could just get the door open and sit down again, everything would be fine. As I fumbled with the door in vain, the nice attendant (Roberto was his name) kept telling me to "Just push, just push." I looked in the direction of his voice and said, "I can't see."

I woke up in the toilet with a icy, cold soda in my hand and heard someone saying, "He looks a bit better now, getting more color." To me, "Here, take a drink of this." I am told that I collapsed on the floor and had to be lifted into the loo. Most of the attendants came back to check on me and there was even talk of turning around for a good ol' emergency landing. All of this is secondary, because for me there was no passing of time between the, "I can't see" moment and being moved into another seat with cold towel on my head. Nothing.

Other than everyone asking how I was for the rest of the flight, everything else went well. The rest of the trip went well too. This is fifth time I have fainted in 33 years but the first time I have done so on an airplane. The last time was at the theatre in London. The spells don't seem to be attached to anything particular, so I can't say why I do it. The only thing I can come up with, I am a scapegoat. If the herd gets attacked by wolves or something else, I will pass out and become a sandwich while the rest of you get to safety. See how nice I am to all of you? Without me, you might have to run faster.

Events worth looking into this week? Sputnik made its historic orbit around the world 50 years ago next week. To mark that momentous occasion, a series of space related things for you. First, in Courthouse's new event lobby, Michael D'Antonio will be there on October 1 st at 7 pm to tell everyone about the race between the two majors to get a something, anything, into space. Dogs, monkeys, chickens, powdered orange juice, rolls of Duct tape and even Tom Hanks. Shooting things into space rocks and we are going to find out why.

If that whets your appetite for all spacey things, but you still want more, Michael Neufeld is going to be in our Lansburgh store telling us all about the one man who helped America get into space. While not a native of Alexandria, he is buried there now, Werner Von Braun. Michael's new book is simply called "Von Braun" and tells the tale of the man who went so far as to work with war criminals to further his own dream of space travel. The only reason we got to hear the words "one small step for man. . ." was because America imported Von Braun after WW II and put him to work on building rockets. Michael will be in Lansburgh on the 4 th at 7 pm to tell us more and answer your questions.

If outer space is a little too much for you to grasp and your tastes are a little darker and little more Gothic, maybe you should should clear your Tuesday October 2 nd. Too cool to be held in any store, Eric Nuzum (local guy, NPR reporter and Vampire 'Hunter') is the center of our third book reading at the Wonderland Ballroom. Eric's new book is called "The Dead Travel Fast" and follows his quest to find out more about Vampires. In true Gonzo style, he drinks Blood, interviews 'real' Vampires (Not like that lady who made all that other stuff up) and travels the world looking for the source of the worlds obsession with these undead bloodsuckers.

This will be the event to go to this month. A multi-media extravaganza with real vampires lounging about drinking bloody cocktails and listening to Eric's stories of tracking them across the misty lakes in Romania. The only way to not look like prey in a roomful of predators is to dress like the predators. Your best bet to get out with all your blood is to look like a vampire. Wonderland Ballroom on October 2nd, come dressed in all your Vampiric regalia, pour a few bloody cocktails down your throat and settle in. If you are hardcore, you can stick around the Wonder for the DJ that plays after our show wraps up. Rock the night away in your Vampy best.

If the Vampires do attack, feel safe in the knowledge that I will be there. If things get a little too crazy, I will pass out cold and all my bodily fluids will be sucked out by some smoking-hot, 300 year old vamp-chick who looks 20. No, no. Don't try to talk me out of it, I am there for you guys. You run, I will pass out and hold off the hot vampire chicks.

I got into the office this morning and started checking my mail like I normally do. I opened the Shelf Awareness this morning and started looking through the hot topics in the world of Publishing.

The first thing I noticed, the one thing that popped off the page was this headline: "R.I.P. Robert Jordan". I have seen hype before and I thought to myself that this could only be more of the same. Perhaps "Robert Jordan" has been a pseudonym all along and the actual author is Doctor John. Now with the completion of the series, the secret could be revealed. (Much like when Richard Bachman 'Died')

That is totally possible. Have you ever seen the two guys together?

This all flashed through my head as I clicked on the hypertext to take me to the whole story but guess what, the guy actually died. 58 years old and he dies from some crazy-rare blood disease. Shelf Awareness said this:

Tor publisher Tom Doherty called Jordan "one of the great storytellers of the 20th and early 21st centuries; Jim's Wheel of Time is a towering epic of power and scope, he was a man of courage and heart and vision but for me, first of all, he was my friend of 30 years."

Jordan, whose given name was James Oliver Rigney Jr., taught himself to read at age four and began reading Mark Twain and Jules Verne a year later. He was a graduate of the Citadel, where he studied physics, and was a Vietnam veteran. He started writing in 1977. He wrote the Michael Fallon historical romance trilogy under the nom de plume Reagan O'Neal and seven of the Conan novels. His Wheel of Time series, which includes 11 volumes and a prequel, has sold more than 30 million copies worldwide. Jordan was reportedly working on an 12th volume at the time of his death. His blog is at dragonmount.com.

The Wheel of Time series has been a staple on my Christmas list for the last 15 years. The first book came out in 1990 and I didn't get into the series right off the bat but I think that is a pretty close approximation of how long I have been invested in this crazy series. Just in case you don't know the story, The Wheel of Time is a 12 part fantasy epic (EPIC doesn't begin to describe the scope of this thing) that fantasy geeks got into back in the day. Each book is like, a thousand pages long and will take you year to read and now that we are all hooked on this monster, the author dies.

--Does this sound callous? I am certain it is to a point and probably a bit selfish too. I feel bad that Robert is gone, he was the only Fantasy author I read, but as such, I felt that he was MY author and now I feel betrayed that he went before his book was finished. I am certain some people felt the same when when Robert Ludlum died and the same when Patrick O'Brian died. I am also aware that there are hardcore fans out there who might get a little bit angry about me cursing Jordan. Tough beans, fanboy. If you have something to say, say it.

Some good things coming up next week that you should go see that might help you get over your Robert Jordan blues.

Jennifer Gilmore will be in our Dupont Circle store for the paperback tour of her book "Golden Country". Jennifer has worked on both sides of the book world moving from publisher to author. She has a very fresh approach to readings and should be a load of fun to listen to. Don't tell her your aunt wrote a book, she is an author now, not a publisher. Dupont Circle, Monday the 24th, 7pm.

Ann Packer (yes, that Ann Packer) will be in our Old Town store for her new book "Songs Without Words". You may remember her from her last book "Dive From Clausen's Pier". She grew up in California. Stanford, CA to be exact and not too far from my old job at the Stanford Shopping Center. Anyway, if you are a fan, you wont want to miss the chance to come out for this event. Say hello to Ann for me and say "Hi" to Alex in Old Town, he will be the one wearing glasses. Old Town (Alexandria, The Fun Side of the Potomac!) Thursday the 27, 7 pm.

Mike Sager (of Esquire fame, but probably not fortune) is going to make a trip to our Dupont store and read a section for us. His new book is called "Revenge of the Donut Boys" and should be quite good. I have enjoyed Mike's work in the magazine for years and am looking forward to picking up the new book. Mike is a bit of a local boy hailing from the far-flung, wine capital of Virginia, Charlottesville. He moved to DC and actually went to Georgetown for a bit before deciding to write his life away. He worked for a little, local paper called the Washington Post for a number of years before moving on again to nationally syndicated magazines like Rolling Stone, Vibe, GQ, Spy, Playboy and like I mentioned, Esquire. You may even remember his work on the Washingtonian if you have been here for a while. Dupont Circle, Friday the 28th 7 pm.

A quick recap for those of you the skip ahead:

Robert Jordan. Dead at 58. My life, ruined and the world of fantasy fiction suffering huge loss.

Jennifer Gilmore. Bridging the gap between publishers and writers and very easy on the eyes.

Ann Packer. No slouch herself in the looks department and a very good writer. I don't think she is traveling with her dog Rosie.

Mike Sager. Kind of a big deal. I am mildly certain Mike will kick your ass if you don't come out for the event. Have you seen him?

Remember that time you read that one book? The book that made something click inside your head and now you live your whole life based on something in this book? I had a book like that and I hope you did too at some point. If you will allow me -- like you have a choice. I am the one typing here and YOU WILL READ WHAT I TYPE!-- I will tell you a little bit about the book and the author that impacted me.

Lets see, it was the first couple years of college and I had stumbled into a drawing course taught by the strangest guy ever. His name is Bob Granger and he is the most laid back dude ever. He shuffled into class on the first day sporting a rockin' plaid shirt, dark glasses, shaggy non-cut hair and a crazy full beard. He would talk of lying face-down in the grass out on the quad and making love to the earth. He argued about the voting rights of the bears when a hunting law was passed in his native Wisconsin. I don't think we put pencils to paper in his class for the first 6 weeks. It was all about thinking, talking and trying to figure out what was important to each of us and why.

Bob gave me a copy of a book when I told him I had never read it. I read the book and I liked it, I enjoyed the journey that the characters took and the situations they were involved in. That book was "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac. I read it. I kinda got into it, but I am not certain that it rocked my world. -- Now wait. You are probably thinking "this dip told us he was going to tell us about a life changing book/author that impacted his life and now he is telling us that he KINDA' liked the book?" Just wait for it. I swear, television has rotted your brains.

I read "On the Road". I liked it. I liked it enough to go pick up another book by Jack. This book was Dharma Bums. When I read about Ray hanging with Japhy at his tiny shack, I could see everything. I was there with Ray, eating fried rice and sitting under the tree among the flowers, as Japhy tried to teach him about zen. As Ray tried to reconcile his New York, party lifestyle on the east coast with his open minded, zen mentality on the west coast, I was trying to open my own mind from the narrow confines of what I thought I knew, to the crazy thoughts of how light affected me and if trees cared to be tied up. (The climbing club was learning how to tie knots and had tied up all the trees in the quad one day. To see purple climbing ropes binding rich brown trunks against the screaming, green grass was quite a sight from our windows on the fourth floor.)

In one section of the book, Ray borrows some heavy boots from Japhy and they climb up a mountain, leaping from rock to rock in a beautifully complicated dance. They compose tiny haiku as they jump among the boulders and through the poems they learn more about the nature that surrounds them. I think this is what Bob was trying to get us to do. He was leading us among the rocks and asking us to look at the things around us. Bob was our Bodhisatva trying to show us the path to enlightenment, just like Japhy was trying to teach Ray.

So "Dharma Bums" got to me. It made perfect sense to me then and it still makes sense to me. I have tried to follow the path ever since I finished the book. I am still trying to be a better Buddhist. In my head, you never get it right until you get it right. So until I do, I write tiny haiku and I try to spend a bit of time out among the trees letting the grass know that we are still friends. So why am I telling you this?

"Dharma Bums" was written in 1958 at the height of "On the Road's" success and basically covers Kerouac's life as he comes to terms with the success he has been thrown into. "On the Road" is having an anniversary this year. It has been fifty years since publication and there is a bit of interest in the whole thing. John Leland has a new book called "Why Kerouac Matters" and he is coming down from New York just to talk with you guys. Ron Collins is going to be there with us and he is going to introduce the event.

So, wait. Back up a second. Who the hell is John Leland? John Leland is a New York Times writer who comes from a long line of John Lelands all of them famous on one level or another. The first John Leland I found was born in London in 1506 and is described as the 'Father of Local English History' and his Itinerary introduced the shire as the basic unit for studying the history of England. Who knew? Hertfordshire? Shropshire? Worcester? Cheshire? All his idea.

The second John Leland I found was born in 1754 and was a Baptist minster in Massachusetts and Virginia. This Leland is never mentioned directly in the episode of the West Wing, but he was the one that brought the Mammoth Cheese to the White House as a gift to Thomas Jefferson. He died in 1841 being the man that brought a 1400 pound cheese to Washington DC. You should thank him the next time you have a grilled cheese at Tonic. Know what kind of cheese it was? Cheshire.

John Leland has his own center in Arlington. I have no idea what goes on there, but I have the address if John Leland wishes to pop in to his center and say hello. If he has any extra time, he will hand out with us at Lansburgh and talk about his new book. I learned a lot of things about John tonight, if I can find one thing that links him to Cheshire, I will know for certain that he is of the famous Leland family and not some upstart like that guy who sells real estate in Spokane.

Editor's note: If you have an extra couple of hours, Google 'John Leland' and read up on all the Lelands through history. Even the real estate guy.
If you have one extra hour, watch the big block of cheese episode of West Wing. It is a good one. So good that it warranted a sequel. Check it out.

I have a very cool event to tell you all about, but first I have something a little more important.

I have been bombing around town over the long weekend and I noticed something. I have seen this before but it has only started to bother me recently. The problem? People that back into parking spots. I am not talking about one of those moments where you pull through one spot into the spot in front. I am talking about backing the butt of your car against a wall.

Why in the heck (I toned it down) do you people feel like you have to back into a spot as opposed to pulling in forward like the rest of humanity? What makes you so important that you have to stop all the traffic in the parking structure while you pull past the spot, then back into it?

Are you all thieves? Maybe you all are get-away drivers for a high-tech crew of thieves and you need to practice your pulling out technique so you can get out of parking spots quickly.

Maybe you are a little uncomfortable with your backing skills and don't want to have to back the car out of parking spots.

Perhaps you don't know how long the front of your car is but you have perfect knowledge of how long the back of your car is, therefore you are more comfortable backing your car in than pulling in forwards.

Or maybe, just maybe, you are all international spies and never sit in a room without your back to a wall so people can't sneak up on you. Why would you want to leave your car in a space where other cars could sneak up on it.

I can't imagine you all belong to a massive group of thieves that are practicing your fast pull aways. Other wise you wouldn't drive thousand dollar cars with five thousand dollar wheels and tires.

If you weren't comfortable with your backing skills, why would you be backing in in the first place?

I know for a fact that most of you have no clue how big your car is because I have watched you plow into the cars on either side of you when you try to parallel park. I have seen the bumpers on cars in the district, no one there knows how long the back of their car is.

The only thing I can think of to explain it all away, other than you are all freaks that are so enamored with the sight of your hood that you have to see it at all times, all of your cars are members of an international spy ring and have brainwashed you into pulling them in backwards so no other cars can sneak up on them while they are parked.

On to different things, more important, less important, you be the judge.

On Thursday, September 13th Anita Thompson will be in our Lansburgh location reading from her new book The Gonzo Way: A Celebration of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. Anita is Hunter's wife and explores the legacy of her late husband as a writer and as a citizen, through her own words and through interviews with those who knew him best including Johnny Depp, Ed Bradley, Doug Brinkley, Jack Nicholson, Bill Murray, Senator George McGovern, and others.

I thought I would throw my favorite Hunter story into the mix just for fun. Now this isn't my story, I got it from Mark Bailey and Ed Hemingway's Bartending Guide to Great American Writers:

"Thompson began his day with a lumberjack breakfast, never to be served before noon. Calling it his "psychic anchor," he described the meal; "four Bloody Marys. two grapefruits, a pot of coffee, Rangoon crepes, a half-pound of either sausage, bacon of corned beef hash with diced chiles, a Spanish omelette or eggs Benedict, a quart of milk, chopped lemon for random seasoning, something like a slice of key lime pie, two margaritas and six lines of the best cocaine."

One last Hunter story. I hear he used to take a large glass and fill it with ice, he would then fill the glass to the top with Chivas. He would then take this down to his gym and sip at it while he rode his stationary bike. A big glass of Chivas to work out with. Genius!

That makes perfect sense to me for some reason. I enjoy having a few drinks before I head to the gym. While I was in Alaska, I started in on the martinis around 11, got three in and headed out to the treadmill where I ran 4 miles then did a shoulder workout. I jumped back into the martinis after a shower. I think if I had a treadmill in my house I might try the drinking and running, but until then I will have to settle for a couple drinks before and a couple drinks after. I am a lot of things, Hunter S. Thompson is not one of them, all I can do is emulate him as best I can.

You might be thinking that it is a little reckless to tell people that I enjoy a couple of cocktails prior to my gym routine. I can't really speak to that, so I am going to let Dr. Thompson speak for me.

Hunter is also quoted as saying, "I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence. or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me."

Come on out to Lansburgh down in the Penn Quarter on the 13th at 7 pm. See Anita and hear what she and others have to say about one of the greatest writers to have lived in our generation.