When I'm belly up to the bar, I expect the smell of bourbon on the breath and cigarette smoke in the hair. This virtual community stuff is all new to me, and I can't help but think something's missing--the dirt, the grime, the stories that only come out after the third drink. And yet, this is a damn big bar. I've only been here for about an hour and already I have ten "friends," have "met" some damn interesting people (like Robert Boris Riskin), and have learned that Duane Swierczynski's name… Continue