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Notes from a Crusty Seeker

Why I Sleep with Toys

A provocative title, huh? I’m trying to get attention. Did I succeed? Are you still reading?

I recently saw the DVD of the movie Lars and the Real Girl, which is very good, although more painful than a “hilarious, heartwarming, feel-good movie” of any season. But those kinds of blurbs probably get more attention from a mainstream audience than telling the truth to the few kinky or psychology-studying cliques who’d be attracted to a movie about a screwed-up guy who has a romantic relationship with a life-size, anatomically correct doll. (For the record, although the notion is intriguing, the toys I sleep with are not life-size, anatomically correct men dolls, but I’ll get to that in a minute.)

It is very important to get attention these days. Everybody says so. It is important to use words that get attention — like any hot trends or sex or anybody’s name who’s in the news. Otherwise you might be condemned to anonymity.

Bernie Madoff is a good example of the service of being extraordinary. Had he not been so extraordinarily sociopathological, he would not be nearly so much fun to hate, and then we would be stuck feeling angry with nobody to blame it on, and then we might be more depressed and feel so ordinary that we couldn’t get out of bed in the morning.

Last night I watched the PBS American Masters documentary about Prairie Home Companion creator, and raconteur Garrison Keillor. In it he said that as a young man his greatest fear was living an ordinary life. But now, as a mature guy running his own spectacularly popular radio program and living the life of a successful author with his own bookstore, he realizes that we all live ordinary lives.

But we know from everybody — as well as professional PR people and the people who talk to professional PR people about very important new, hot trends and sex, sex, sex, and famous people (which equals the aforementioned “everybody”) — we know from them that ordinary doesn’t sell. So is Mr. Keillor misinformed? Just in case he is, I’ve decided to tell the world that I sleep with toys. (Did I say “sex” three times? Forgive me. I must have the hiccups!)

I’m declaring my toy fetish on the World Wide Web in order to optimize my attention-getting and become part of the extraordinary crowd who makes a living and eats.

I like to eat. Some of my favorite foods are broccoli, lettuce, and tofu fixed so that it tastes like anything other than tofu. Eating usually requires money if you don’t own land. And owning land usually requires money, unless you inherit it, in which case you still need money to pay the taxes. And to get money, per everybody, you have to be extraordinary and want to do things like eat worms on TV or be related to people who eat worms on TV or be somebody who once worked for Michael Jackson.

I will never eat worms — on TV or off — but I do sleep with toys. Namely an elephant and a polar bear with a chewed off hat and anything else that ends up in the bed when I’m dead tired from being so ordinary and eating tofu.
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