The Mail: 9/16-23

Best Reason We Should Invite You to the City Paper Best of Baltimore Party, as submitted in our online Readers Poll

I'm 79 and just went skydiving for the first time.


The best of the rest

— 01101001 01101110 01110110 01101001 01110100 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100101 00100000 01110000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 I am a robot

— A Baltimore Tugboat Captain, lingerie store owner, and ordained minister is a must for any party.

— After sleeping with so many of you, I think it's high time I got something in return.

— Attending the Best of Baltimore Party would be part of my research for my Cultural Studies Ph.D. dissertation, entitled "Manufacturing Charm City: The socio-semiotics of Baltimore's decline."

— Because I definitely won't drink all your beer and pass out in t he bathroom with my pants around my ankles. I also would never hit on your significant other in a pathetically ham fisted way.

— Because I do this every fucking year and it's ALL I EVER WANT is to come to your goddamn awesome party!!!

— Because I make the best hot sauce for a 1000 miles in any direction. Tree Frog, baby! That, and I can hold my booze and I tip like a fool. I don't yell requests at the band/DJ. And finally, because I love this town more than anybody.

— Because I totally did NOT have too much to drink and then walk over and watch Hall & Oates play from the street outside Pier 6, and then take an Uber back to Govans that cost $70 at last year's party. Because that TOTALLY didn't happen!

— Because I would like to drink all the whiskey.

— Because Lexie Mountain rocks.

— Both you and I won't remember, but we will know that it was the best night of our lives.

— CityPaper is my favorite print publication at the moment, and Baltimore is my favorite place of all time. Charm City 4 Life.

— I aesthetically look like rolling baltimore garbage, but when photographed by that party booth I make baltimore garbage look well lit.


— I am a real ball to be around. I want to explain more, but it's really hard to put this into words. Please bear with me. I start off slowly, a few kind introductions, light banter...the usual. It's after about 20 minutes (or 2 drinks - whichever comes first) that I start to warm up the party. I will usually lip-sync a song or two out of the main spotlight, just to get myself loose. Once a microphone is left unattended, I strike! I have the crowd in the PALM. OF. MY. HAND. Like a tiny crowd ball that I'm about to bounce in my game of social jacks. They're laughing so hard, their eyes all roll back in their heads with glee. Tears are shed when I make note of suffering in the world, and I quickly come back with a joke! The night is young. No tears. No tears. I have them all right where I want them. They are enjoying the party, commenting on how the Best of Baltimore Party was nothing until I was on-stage. They know who I am by now, and have all followed me on instagram (dtart) and twitter (davetartdrums)...liking, favorite-ing, and retweeting all of my posts. I'm feeling the love. I shout out all of the local vendors here, because without them, this is nothing. I give love to the hosts of the party, the live band (aren't they great), and of course the City Paper (for orchestrating this whole thing and covering my talent fee - which is just free admission, but I won't tell). They are all exhausted from dancing, eating, sampling stuff, and enjoying our great city, that they don't realize the sun is up! Alas, our night is over. Thank you everyone for coming. This was a real pleasure. I'm Dave Tart, and I will be here whenever they need me.

It's no question that you should invite me. Look at what I added to your party.

— I am not the person you want at your party. I am suspicious (of city government), sarcastic (about city politicians), and have likened the mayor's red soled shoes to little warning flags. The worst part is I still have some Pollyanna left as I roam our trash-, hair extension-, and condom-filled town. I hope you have a lovely party, though.

— I fucking hate D.C. and I moved here one month ago because I fucking love Baltimore. It's totally worth the extra long commute to put money into a city with an actual pulse!

— I love Baltimore so much that I routinely drive around the city to scope out where my tombstone should go because I will live here until I die.

— I never stop talking about the impending ice age.

— I'm a great conversationalist and a terrible dancer, so everyone will feel great being near me, they'll feel witty, and look smooth.

— I'm about to move to South Sudan!

— Jersey native, 22 years old, and unemployed Hopkins grad - that's me. My husband is a 35 year-old German man whose employment is pending on his greencard application. We met in this city (he was my teacher), we got married in this city (in our apartment). We're broke, under a bureaucratic pressure cooker, hopelessly in love and still trying to make the most of this humid summer. That being said, b'more brought us together and it'll carry us forward. PLEASE INVITE USSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Corrections: A profile on arm transplant recipient Jeff Swedarsky (City Folk, Sept. 9) erroneously stated that Swedarsky's friend ripped off his shirt to make a tourniquet, but he used his belt. It also said that Swedarsky got the call about a new arm a year after enrolling in the Hopkins program, but it was actually a year after his arm was amputated. City Paper regrets the errors.

Editor's Note: Due to the early Best of Baltimore deadline, "Murder Ink" will appear online this week.