His Shameful Ravening Itch

I might need to reconsider my aversion to four-person panels in light of George Meyer’s recent panegyric to conferences in the May 28, 2007 issue of The New Yorker:

There’s nothing subtle about a PANEL DISCUSSION.  Its thrills are dizzying, electric, a filthy mule kick to the greedy core of desire.  Wisdom crackles from the dais.  Insights darts and flash liked the doomed fish in some whore’s aquarium. You take notes like a madman, but your pen flies apart, slinging hot ink down your pant leg.

I’m pretty sure this never happened to me.