My Ears are Ringing

My ears are ringing.

God, is that you? You know you're not supposed to call at the dinner hour. I put my name on the National DO NOT CALL registry, but it seems to have no effect.

Oh, why won't ringing didn't stop? Somebody must be talking about me.

It turns out, Ben of the Ice Cream Sandwich Radio Show, wildly popular among its three listeners, and Ben's co-host Joe have been talking about this blog and yours truly. Ben and I go way back, when I used to read his robot comics. I think he’s very talented and I can say that because I am authorized by him to say so.

Ben likes to take pictures on his camera phone. He also likes to moon people online. He looks a little bit like Woody Allen, especially when he’s wearing glasses. Joe, his co-host, I know virtually nothing about, which is fine with me, because I like to imagine him in this little green number.

Ben is also a dork, which I think nowadays is really more of a compliment than an insult. Dork is cool. Ben is very cool. It gives me hope that one day the word "gay" will become a compliment.

"Gay" has become the new derogatory term, didn’t you know? These days, when straight kids say "you’re gay," they mean "you’re stupid" rather than "you look like you suck cock."

I think that there is a great potential for confusion. If gay equals stupid, charitable folk who support mentally-challenged kids could end up at the Gay Olympics. Coming out would be a nightmare. You marshall your courage to tell your mother you’re gay and she enrolls you in remedial classes.

But like all derogatory terms, new ones come up to take their place anyway, usually based on some marginal minority group. Here are some new ones that I propose: "you’re so Amish" or "you’re such a Scientologist" or "you’re such a Gotti."

Anyway, for a good five minutes, Ben, Joe and their occasional sidekick Erica, talk about this site and my purported lactose intolerance. Just as a clarification folks, I am not lactose intolerant. I am lactophobic, which means that I have an irrational fear and loathing of all dairy and dairy-like food products. Even the sight of an infant nuzzling its mother's breast on the bus offends me, it brings forth a desire to give its mother a shawl to cover up that regretful peasant blouse she was wearing.

In the same show, Erica also spends a few minutes lamenting about the fate of some penguins in the documentary March of the Penguins. She wondered why the filmmakers didn't lift a hand to save the little penguins. But be comforted my dear Erica, they are in a better place now—they are in J-Lo's mitten drawer.

Good luck on your show kids, and talk about me some more.

And if anybody else wants to talk about me, can you please remember to mention how well-endowed I am? I don't think enough people know.


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Penguins are sooo gay
Salon.com: "We're Here, We're Queer, We're Penguins"