Michael Roth was a young Jewish prince. His family owned a line of elite department stores in Texas called Roth/Harris, which for a time, even trumped its other Dallas rival, Neiman/Marcus. In other words, Michael had tasted and seen things I as a kid could only dream about—Europe, skiing, tropical beaches.
Michael was a good kid but he was also a total spaz. In peewee league sports, he was always assigned positions where his spaziness could be reigned in. In baseball, he played catcher: He never could catch a pitch but he wasn’t afraid to charge. In soccer he was a ruthless fullback, taking the scalps of 3rd and 4th grade forwards foolhardy enough to advance the ball beyond midfield. Continue Reading
Check out these awesome possum stories on Tokoni that me and Dan Ahdoot collected.
We interviewed Billy Connelly who told us about pissing in a flower pot in the lobby of the Plaza hotel and Malcolm Gladwell who said his finest moment was when Baron Davis told him he was a fan of his work.
