I’ve been invited to perform at the TASTE3 conference in Napa Valley next month, which should send my street cred on both coasts right through the roof.

The Taste3 conference, as I understand it, is a sort of invitation-only Rock/Paper/Scissors tournament for rich people. Two contestants face off with their hands behind their backs and a corkscrew, a paintbrush, and a fork (or runcible spoon) tucked in their waistbands. At the count of three (“Trois!”), each presents his or her implement: Fork (or Runcible Spoon) beats Corkscrew, Corkscrew beats Paintbrush, and Paintbrush beats Fork (or Runcible Spoon).

I expect to make it seriously far in the tournament; I’m young, my reflexes are quick, I have a killer instinct, and I pretty much cheat a lot. I even took a self-portrait in front of a meager refrigerator for my publicity photo in the TASTE3 program. I figure my opponent will be thinking something like: “This kid is hungry—here comes the Fork (or Runcible Spoon)!” Or maybe something like: “Writer, eh? Well, here comes the ole Paintbrush!”

But my opponent will be wrong, very wrong: I’ll throw Corkscrew.