A Hypothetical Conversation with Howard Long

Hello my dear Howard.

And how are you today?

Oh.

That's good.

I thought you might be at least a little worse.

But that's fine.




So it doesn't sound like you miss me Howard.

Fine.  Just fine.

I don't care.  You stink anyway.




On another note...the moon.

Yep.  It's pretty romantic.

And by "romantic", I mean that it's the biggest rip-off I've ever encountered.

There's nothing special about the moon.  Nothing unique.  Bajillions of other people called dibs centuries ago.  It's taken.  Don't try to woo me over with it.  Neil Armstrong's footprints and an American flag and the sighs of the cutest couples to ever have existed make it feel so crowded in this place; there's no room for you and me here.

You have no imagination.

Honestly, the moon?

Never mind that I adore Claude Debussy's Clair de Lune like many before me.  Never mind that it has the word "moon" in the title.  IN FRENCH.

The moon is all you've got?  Even Juliet knew that the moon is too fickle for love.

No, don't say anything more about Romeo and Juliet because that comparison stinks even more than you.  Hard to picture, I realize.

Don't believe a thing that song in Mulan says about manhood, because I've seen the dark side of the moon and there is nothing mysterious about it.

Why can't you think of something better for us, like the laughs ladybugs or the geography of Jupiter?  Even that's settling.  I stayed within the galaxy.

I know!  The Milky Way!  Then we could give each other candy bars for the sake of chocolate and expressing our gushy hearts through succulent caramel.

Oh, you don't like those?  Okay.  Never mind that I do.

Huh?  I'm not being nice to you?  You have to do the settling?  Nonsense.

What's that you say?  I wore a skirt without shaving my legs last Wednesday?!

1.  Well this is awkward.
2.  You noticed?  Ew.

What's wrong with the moon you ask?

Obviously you aren't listening.  Talk to you later.