By "Popular" Demand (sort of)

Warning (a poem by Jenny Joseph)

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me . . .

Screw that. When I am an old woman I shall wear silver leggings and a matching silver bustier thingy.

But, Banality, you are no Tina Turner.

Duly noted. However, since we're on the topic of thighs, can we discuss the thighs belonging to Beyoncé? Apparently, Ms. Knowles' thighs are a significant source of controversy, with some people believing that she should "cover those things up." SRSLY? If anything, Beyoncé should show her thighs more frequently. She should wear a leotard and boots all the time. Everywhere. You can't argue that it would be worse than those hideous outfits she feels compelled to wear just because her mother designed them. (Did you see the thing she wore on Saturday Night Live this past week? Blech!) Plus, she supposedly wants to play Wonder Woman at some point, so why not get used to the costume now? She lives in California, right? Where it's warm? I think this is a brilliant plan.

Yesterday I had lunch with Anne Fadiman, author of The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, Ex Libris, and At Large and At Small. I am now her BFF, and she is trying to convince me to write my memoirs.

Oh, all right, that's not true. The truth is I had class right before lunch, so I didn't get to the fancy room with its fancy china in time to get a spot at Anne Fadiman's table. I did butt into a conversation between Ms. Fadiman and the college president to awkwardly introduce myself, and then I spent the rest of the lunch hour at a different table, chatting with my colleagues about yurts and morticians. We also discussed the problem with teaching a first-year seminar on the scholarly examination of some aspect of popular culture, which is that the students most likely to sign up for a course on some aspect of popular culture will be the ones least likely to have an interest in the scholarly examination of anything.

That final conversation, coupled with a late-night, post-research-meeting viewing of the SNL digital short classic, "D*ck in a Box," contributed to the dream I had last night that I was teaching a first-year seminar titled, The Cultural Relevance of Justin Timberlake. My students were angry that I wouldn't allow them to use Wikipedia as a scholarly source. Even in my dreams, I demand academic excellence.

And speaking of the first-year seminar, here is my favorite title of the recent batch of papers I'm grading:

There is No Psychiatrist in the World Like a Puppy Licking Your Face