h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Just started thinking about the fellow tonight, as I suffered writer's block and smoked cigarettes. Thought I'd give a nice warn off to all the lovely ladies out there in Memphis TN as well as heating up the internet connection.

You know, Dennis Miller said that the best revenge on an ex-boyfriend would be to get his current girlfriend drunk, sleep with her and then call him to tell him how good in bed she is - and how lousy he is, thus short-circuiting both penis and brain as he can't decide whether to be horny or furious.

This is assuming that Douglas Mallory can get another girlfriend. He's a bit effeminate. Almost prissy. He was born in 1976 yet insists on listening to Barry Manilow. Swears he's straight, but all his friends quietly told me that he was bisexual. Not that it bothers me, but if he's that deeply in the closet how well-adjusted can he be?

Which brings us to the Tolkein factor. The man speaks Elvish. Writes it. Loves Tolkein? Not the word. He wants badly to be Beren, and owns the Silmarillion on a set of CD's, which he listens to with even more enthusiasm than he musters for his Barry Manilow and his show tunes. He can quote it chapter and verse, and does so. I think obssessed is appropriate.

Then there are his other quirks: cold aloofness, emotional cruelty, and patronizing speech. About the only thing he did have going for him was that he was pretty good in bed.

Oh well, better luck next fellow.

Hmmm. Many of us have gone through a phase of being... well, if not obsessed, at least deeply interested in Tolkien's imagined world. As with all phases, it passes. But Barry Manilow? Now there are grounds for concern.

It wasn't so much Barry Manilow as the show tunes that prompted my mother to ask, "Honey, are you sure he's not gay?" He was tone-deaf, too. He did like folk music, and that redeemed his taste somewhat. After all, he did introduce me to that excellent CD, Irish Songs of War and Rebellion, which gave me songs for my repertoire: "The Foggy Dew", "The Minstrel Boy". Not to mention that he was the one wh played "The Green Fields of France" for me, making me cry. So perhaps that wasn't so bad. . .

It was more his insistence upon emotional coldness and aloofness that hurt. I could deal with Tolkein, Barry Manilow and show tunes, but his indifference cut deeply, and he would continue even after I told him I'd rather have him scream insults in my face than be indifferent to me.