Hey! We’re a best bet!

Omigod! Dr. and Mrs. Eek just got their first bit of fan mail ever:

I really like the way you put your page together. It is really cool how upbeat you are. I am from Terre Haute too. I work at a local
corporation on their computer help desk. Nice to meet you through the internet and would like to chat some.

If I work this right, Doc and the Missus might get into some nasty cyberkink. I’ll see what I can eke out.

Oh: contrary to popular opinion, Mississippi was fun. Of course, it helps to have grown up there…. More on that later.

Okay, guys…off to spend some quality time with the ‘rents. Smell ya’ later (i.e. tomorrow).

P.S. Jonno, tomorrow’s garbage day.

It’s a holiday, right? Then why have I spent the better part of the morning catching up on bills, work, and side projects? Sheesh…I need a real vacation.

Well, I gotta wash my face and shuffle over to the grocery store–seems I picked up the wrong kinda sausage for Jonno’s stuffing (take that any way you like)…. There’s a reason I’m not the cook around here.

Happy TD, kids!

xo Richard

SECRET SANTA

So Pamie came up with a great idea–she’s running an online Secret Santa for her readers. I figure, why not share the wealth? Ergo, I present to you the Sturtle.com Secret Santa. (Let it never be said that I’m above outright thievery.) Here’s how it’ll work:

1. Set up an Amazon.com wish list with all the goodies you want for Chris-kwaanz-ukah. Be sure to keep at least a few items in the $10-$15 range. This may surprise you, but ain’t all of us loaded over here.

2. Send me your Amazon screen name, your Amazon email address, and the url of your wish list by December 4th.

3. I’ll work some magic and pair you up with a name I’ve pulled from a glamorous Easter bonnet! (Or a dog-eaten baseball cap. Whichever I find first.)

4. I’ll send you an email with the name of your Secret Sturtle–er, Secret Santa–along with the link to her/his wish list.

5. Spread the holiday joy, ya’ big dummy!

And sign up for Pamie’s list, too, if you’re so inclined.

Just for fun, I’ll be sure to post all the participants and their respective wish lists–just in case some of you are feeling extra generous this season.

Sound like a plan? Then start sending!

Okay, well, I think this la nina thing is finally over. For the past three years, New Orleans’ winters have been unseasonably warm, but now, in mid-November, we’re about to hit the freezing mark. That’s not a bad thing–it just means I’ll have to be borrowing from Jonno’s winter wardrobe a little more frequently than I’ve done in the past. And I’d better start planning a warmer Mardi Gras costume…

I hope you know that Jonno and I talk about you all the time–especially those of you we’ve never met in person. We’ll be sitting on opposite sides of the living room, talking about how so-and-so must be feeling randy, or how someone‘s in a particularly chipper mood, or how you-know-who is so pensive these days or thingummy‘s a bit angry or whatchamadoodle‘s feeling homicidal or Miss Thing‘s just a mess.

You’re like our very own real-time version of The Sims. Or tamagotchi. Or sea-monkeys.

You’re like porn with out the messy clean-up.

For all three of you (including my boyfriend) who haven’t had a chance to read the much-ballyhooed article…

Actually, watching Can’t Stop the Music wasn’t as painful as I feared–it’s too ridiculously stupid to induce anything as honest as pain. I put it in that strange category of film that includes Showgirls and Shock Treatment: movies that are cognizant of their camp value but which ultimately aren’t campy. The directors are trying make the films do too much at once, leaving the viewer (i.e. me) irritated, not entertained.

I had a much different experience Friday evening while watching a TV documentary on the Beatles. The black-and-white footage was fine, non-descript, archival. But things crossed over into technicolor around the same time I was born. The clothes the band was wearing, even the quality of the film, pointed to a time I can just barely remember, before I’d even started elementary school. I get the same feeling when I visit my mom and flip through her stacks of Fox Photo pics. I can’t really remember specific events, but I remember the general feeling of being alive then: the color of our living room carpet, a few of my favorite shirts, the face of our babysitter (whom I secretly loved) and the feel of riding to Macdonald’s in her convertible. It’s an indefinable sensation; it’s like having a vague idea of something that happened, but never remembering specifics–always being right on the edge of recollection. If I could pin it down to a particular image or event, that would probably be fine–at least it’d be closure. But this kind of nebulousness makes me nauseous, like I’ve been punched in the gut.

Thought for Today

Many things scare me–notably Beanie Babies, scrambled eggs, and my inexplicable fascination with Lawrence Welk. But nothing–I mean nothing–scares me quite as much as middle America’s anti-intellectual streak.

Case in point: when Southern Baptists et al. decide that the bible isn’t open to any sort of interpretation whatsoever, that’s pretty friggin’ creepy–not to mention blatantly ignorant of the fact that the bible’s been translated squillions of times from one language to another. I mean, that’s an indisputable fact, right? So which one deserves the literal interpretation?

When I ask my mom questions like that, and she gets flabbergasted, doesn’t know what to say. Blind faith, that’s her motto. On the other hand, my father–whom I’d written off for so long as an alien from another planet–is pretty laid-back and relativistic about it.

I used to think the reluctance to exert–even distrust of–mental muscle was just part-and-parcel of conservatism. But you know what? It’s not. Hasidic Jews, for example, are pretty damn conservative, but they also have a long history of intellectual engagement with the Torah….

Of course, that’s not to say that I’m an intellectual myself; personally, I think I’m a little too ADD to wear that particular hat…. But I worry when the opinions, or even questions, of bona fide thinkin’ folks are attacked.

This “Thought for Today” has been brought to you by the letter “S” (for stupid) and “D” (for dumbass) and the leadership of the Republican Party.