Friday, December 19, 2003
 

Well.

That was interesting.

I warn you in advance that I'll be unable to do this justice.

We had a drinking date tonight with the ethical vegetarian animal sex professor (who also seems to be developing a strong interest in necrophilia). The venue was his choice, a piano bar at a local swanky hotel. I sure the swankier-than-thou customers appreciated the disruptive presence of graduate students and their inebriated, singing professor.

I don't even know how to go about composing this entry. As previous entries dealing with this guy have demonstrated, following some sort of logical order is more or less impossible.

We did the usual bestaility, vegetarian consensual animal sex, necrophilia run of things (oddly, he left out S&M this time). It occurs to me that it might be bad that I call this "the usual."

He managed to sing along with at least 70% of what the oily-haired, bad-suited, haircut-needing pianist played, including "I Will Always Love You." Seeing a Foucault-lookalike American lit prof sing Dolly Parton is not an everyday occurrence, needless to say. But really, man, ya had to be there.

The musical highlight was unquestionably his performance of "Kill the Wabbit," that immortal Looney Tunes hit. He rose, he stood, he sang. He did Elmer Fudd (to whom he also bears a slight resemblance) gestures. We're in public, keep in mind.

At that point, I got out my notepad and started taking notes, for you, my readers. Alas, this didn't occur to me earlier in the evening (or, for that matter, earlier in the semester), but I do have some gems from what we'll call the Bugs Bunny portion of the entertainment:

He proposed that we discuss "the ontology of Bugs Bunny." This involved the Judith Butler inspired concept of "rabbit performativity." According to my notes, the "Kill the Wabbit" show followed this conversation.

Upon observing me taking notes (I was in no way trying to hide my activity, and the guy next to me was quite obviously reading over my shoulder), he inquired if he was being made fun of. I simply explained that it wasn't a major thing; I just planned to post it on the internet, that's all. He got hung up on my having a blog, but I think that it was the concept of blogging that bothered him, not the fact that I publicly lampoon him about once a week. Of course, it's a little difficult to tell what's going through his head. That's probably a good thing.

We broke up when 1/2 of my ride (bless the hearts of all who drive my freeloading butt around) announced that she'd had no dinner and it was time for grub. He agreed that he, too, had to go, because:

"I've got to go get some underwear. It's like food."

What else can I say?

Elvisette philosophized at 12:02 AM