Some Tillmans are complete deadbeats. Namely Robert K. Tillman in San Francisco and L.P. Tillman in Portland. Said they were on board to bring Roadrunner love to their adopted hometowns then did the Tillman thing: nothing. We worried about Mason Tillman in D.C. for a while—no word, no chuck. So we sent a scout to track him down. Our man found him at the Australian embassy, of all places. He says he was hired to build some cabinets and has been crashing on a cot and drinking Foster's in the room where they store all the didgerdiroos they use in the annual Australian Pride Parade (yes, they really have one). Turns out that he and the assistant to the deputy ambassador—he says her name is Sheila, but our man thinks this might be Mason's way of making fun of him—threw the chair two weeks ago in this little park across the street, next to the monument to Samuel Hahnemann, the founder of homeopathic medicine. Mason's a hair of the dog kind of guy.