The Breakfast Table

The Man Who Loved Genetic Anomalies

Dear Todd,

Good morning to you. With regard to your comment about “self-hating depressives who don’t get out of bed until noon,” I have quite the opposite problem. Recently I have been the victim of a team action by my four dogs to move their morning meal from 7:00 to 6:15. It used to take place at 9. Next thing I knew it was 8:30. Then 8. Then 7:45. I think they think that if they keep moving the mealtime earlier and earlier they will hit some kind of a quantum physics time-space continuum where there will be a 24-hour mealtime loop.

I have been sitting here waiting to begin this e-mail exchange like I am preparing to take the SATs again. The only other time I ever intentionally perused this many newspapers out of sheer anxiety was during my one-year stint as a radio talk-show host. Ultimately, there was precious little reason to use any of the information in that format either. But oh, the things I have learned. For instance, I read in USA Today online that actress/rap star Brandy Norwood, who plays the college-age star of TV’s Moesha, caused her show to go on hiatus when she was hospitalized for dehydration. Like so many TV shows, I’ll bet they use this unfortunate opportunity to create a special episode of the series that will finally aim a much needed spotlight on one of the most overlooked problems facing college students today. We hear so much about excessive drinking on campus, but so little is ever said about all the dehydrated young people who refuse all beverages entirely.

I don’t know anything about that screeching-train-type Japanese music you mentioned, but in a geographically related story, I learned in today’s L.A. Times that 75 percent of Japanese parents-in-waiting are breaking with traditional Asian thought and are hoping to have baby girls. The timing couldn’t be better for this female population boom because in our country at last a military advisory committee has opened up a debate that will eventually pave the way for a world of the future in which every little girl will finally be able to pursue her cherished childhood dream–to one day live and work on a nuclear powered submarine.

And speaking of mildly feminist issues, can I use this as a segue to discuss just briefly how truly repelled and filled with hatred I am for theoretical presidential candidate Donald Trump? It’s not just the arrogance and the smug expression, although that helps things along, I admit. But I have been enraged at his repeated comment about how if Clinton had conducted his affair with a supermodel instead of a tubby intern he would have been regarded as a hero. And then he always finishes this up with a comment about how his weakness is that he (Trump) doesn’t smoke or drink but dammit, he “loves women.” First of all, let me say that I never imagined myself having a reason to defend the mainly pathetic and ridiculous Ms. Lewinsky, but I wonder if the vile and loathsome Mr. Trump has ever had a conversation with a woman who wasn’t a genetic anomaly (or supermodel, as he calls them). That to me is like a caviar collector saying that he really likes eggs. OK, I know that analogy doesn’t really work. Maybe you can help me with a new one. I have been looking for a better analogy for weeks now. As for that earnest young death-of-irony guy, I read only his book review, not his book. But I hope I don’t run in to him in a dark alley someplace because I have been taking self-defense classes and I might just yell out “Heelpalm!” and then we’ll both have to live with the consequences.

I guess you must know that today is the birthday of ODB (Old Dirty Bastard) of the Wu-Tang Clan. He turns 31. Did you get him anything?