Ah why not. I observe myself feeling uncomfortable calling Mr. McMordie a con artist, but it nevertheless remains a fact, damn it.
Without Kenneth McMordie the story of Jed McKenna would lose its rather peculiar angle, the angle of how the lie won over truth, and how words on truth matter not.
It is also much more interesting to observe the stunts of someone who has travelled, has immersed and has seen. And has no mortgage.
The photo above is from the video I personally took of Ken a couple of years ago. He was playing harmonica in the same club I saw him in before, and so had no chance to flee off the stage. That was our last encounter. From that point on I chose not to attend the places where he was most likely to be found; they are soaked in sweat, semen, throaty spit, alcohol and desperate attempts to stave off loneliness, amidst happy-happy tunes and non stop human chatter.
Just like any other such place on the planet.
Happy birthday, Ken. Time flies, innit?