Popping up where you least expect it.

So, when reading a profile of YouTube, and its self-uploaded content, in The New Yorker, the last person you expect to see pop into the story, completely tangentially, is Crispin Glover.

But there he is!

Seriously, there I am, just working the treadmill, reading a lovely piece about the rise of YouTube (hilariously already outdated, even in this week's issue of The New Yorker, by last week's buyout by Google), and the viewer submitted content, and all of a sudden, in he whooshes as the sidebar to one of the central character studies within the piece.

That dude is unreal.