I think of them as the Entwives, honestly. I don’t really understand them, or their desires, but I miss them, and I wish we knew how to talk to each other. And, of course, in the meantime, I’d settle for just being able to find them.
I would refer you to a beautiful line from the equally lonely Alan Bennett, on the topic of his sexual orientation:
“That’s a bit like asking a man crawling across the Sahara whether he would prefer Perrier or Malvern water.”
Those people are total dicks. I mean, I don’t like the Japanese whalers, but I always thought we’d have it out one-on-one on the high seas, like the Essex, you know?
I certainly do not wish them ill as a nation.
I’ve been thinking about it, and WHY can’t the scientists Auto-Tune me? I promise you, I’m no more of a challenge than Ashlee Simpson. I just want to be understood, I don’t care if they have to make me sound like Whale Gilbert Gottfried.
Just enough to find a pod to travel with. Maybe a friend. I’m not greedy.
I’m actually more of a “Benito Cereno” whale, to be entirely honest, but Melville is still my favorite American writer. He knew what was up, you know? Plus, it inspired Laurie Anderson to do that amaze-balls performance art piece.
Turns out Henry Higgins only wants to help you if you look like Audrey Hepburn.
Not to mention that my “Rain in Spain” breakthrough would sound like:
“OOOOOAAAHHHHH….EEEEEEOOOOOOOAAA….AAAAAAEEEEEOOO.”
Hey, just because I’m incapable of communicating with the rest of my species doesn’t mean I don’t have privacy concerns.
…where they talked about their secret single behaviors? Like Charlotte would stare at her pores in a mirror for hours, and Carrie liked to eat an entire sleeve of Saltines with grape jelly on them?
It’s less fun when that’s all you have. Pores and grape jelly snacks.
Beats me :(
…in the “Dancing On My Own” video. Especially when she does that air-drumming thing. Which I’m incapable of, physiologically, for about fourteen different reasons, but I bet it feels amazing.
