Glad, Well, May I Call You Malcolm?

Sean Macaulay writes a delightful little article of Malcolm Gladwell's rise to master of the known universe, woops, sorry I meant Great Seducer of Womankind (same difference). Here are my favorite parts:
And these are seriously attractive women, too. The tall blonde he took to Bar Blanc last December was so smoking hot, an eyewitness wrote that Gladwell “made all the guys in the restaurant want to write their own New York Times bestsellers! It the high-school geek landing the prom queen—so wrong, yet so right. “
On his quest to reign Gladwell in for his little project he got this response:
I tracked down Gladwell on his cellphone, amid the h
um of coffeehouse chatter, and outlined my thesis. He was very polite and completely mortified. “This is ridiculous. Why would I want to talk about such a thing?”

I tried to say his success with women was a tribute to the fact that he embodied his own principles for late bloomers (10,000 hours of practice minimum!); that he gave hope to lovelorn dweebs everywhere. But it was too much, too late.

”No, no—I don’t think I want to participate in this at all,” said Gladwell decisively, before signing off with his trademark upbeat ending: “But good luck with it!”

Oh, and this is one of the books he wrote:


Post a Comment