Baby, It’s Treadknicious Outside
by David Kennedy Bird
Abstract: Oh my, but it’s been a long time. Should it be any surprise, then, that in this episode–basically–everything happens, everybody (basically) says everything, and Elvis Wu is (um, basically) revealed to be pregnant?
(Okay, not really that last bit. Just kiddin’ around wid ya.)
Okay, fellers. Let’s just come out and say it. This has tended to be a terrible blog in the matter of posting instability: what i mean is, we’ll jump in vigorously for a few weeks, then drop out for a few months. Lather, rinse, repeat. As of today, it has been…umm… [counting on fingers]… oh dear, it’s been precisely one year–to the very day!–since our last post. Ouch! Sorry there, old fellows.
Today’s post, then, will have to involve a bit of catching up.
The Good Reader: Oh dear. What might “catching up” happen to mean?
The Blogger: The Good Reader! Well, howdy there. I’ve not seen you in a while.
The Good Reader: Well, duh–you’ve not seen me since the last of those blog posts that you wrote, i being apparently (according to YOU) a figment of your creative impulse. [makes grumbling sounds]
The Blogger: Jeepers, Reader, i’m not sure i’d want to put it exactly like that… um… umm… uhh… well… oh golly… as a matter of fact, that was an excellent way of putting it. Let’s not dance around the issue. You have delineated the art of war. You have nailed the head on the donkey. You have committed the perfect storm.
The Good Reader: [Goes somewhat cross-eyed for a moment, then decides not to pursue the material about donkeys and perfect storms. You have to choose your battles.] Anyway, what might “catching up” happen to mean? It’s basically a random blog. You blog about whatever philosophical or quasi-philosophical or pseudo-philosophical topics you happen to have on your brain at the moment.
The Blogger: Unfair, unfair! And also unanswerable, unless we’re prepared to devote a whole blog post to that obvious untruth, which we at present are not. So here’s what i mean by “catching up.” The last few posts to the blog involved…
…an oddball Christmas event in which The Good Reader, Little Biffy, Jennifer Smith, Elvis Wu, and i enjoyed the benefits of a Christmas fireside while analyzing terms associated with the holiday season,
…a scintillating introduction to The Photographer, who turned out to be quite the astonishing gal,
…a horrific invasion of Tribbles, accompanied by an equally horrific invasion by Mister Spock, Mister Sulu, and Captain Kirk,
…a delightful–simply delightful!–analysis of the concept of extreme sports,
…a delightful–simply–um–well–never mind–in-depth discussion of marketing strategies,
…a whole freaking bunch of people going into a freaking bar, a species of behavior which we at All Flockbinkers can hardly condone–and it’s a shame, really, that this sort of thing is even finding its way into the blog,
…an in-depth and strangely satisfying analysis of the concept of extreme sports,
…some further analysis–and there can never be too much, really–of that classic jape about the three Scotsmen sitting on a fence…
…yet another attempt, fruitless as usual, to figure out what flockbinkers are,
…and, of course, yet another fascinating look at our Reader Mail.
So what we need to do with this one, is figure out how to pick up where we left off.
The Good Reader: There’s no need for that. I’ve hardly ever read something so random as this blog. Just write about something. It’s not like your four readers will notice. Personally, i think you should write about what a flockbinker is. You’ve been promising to do that for, what, several years now? Or maybe the treadkniciousness of tribbles. You completely failed to address that topic in the post that was supposed to be devoted to it. Or you could talk about whether tribbles would make good Christmas tree ornaments.
The Blogger: Four readers? You must mean, of course, the four readers who have engaged the most substantially with the content of this blog…?
The Good Reader: How did i KNOW that would be the only part of my statement that you’d pay attention to.
The Blogger: …Because, seriously, i have WAY more than four readers.
The Good Reader: Okay.
The Blogger: Anyway, here’s my plan. Having briefly reviewed the material we covered in our last few posts, i think we’ll turn this one into a big Christmas party. You know, like the one we had last year?
The Good Reader: Christmas is long over, dude. It’s May. May comes after Christmas.
The Blogger: Well, i mean, it depends on what you mean by ‘Christmas.’ They’re apparently getting snow in the upper midwest. Can you believe that?
The Good Reader: Oh, bother.
The Blogger: ANYWAY, You can’t know if Christmas is going to be treadknicious, unless you first know what treadknicious means.
The Good Reader: If you’re not just yanking me around–i mean, if you’re really about to deliver–then, wow, go for it! What DOES treadknicious mean?
The Blogger: Well, that is to say, i… didn’t actually say i was gonna define it.
The Good Reader: Mm-hmmm.
The Blogger: I just said you can’t know if Christmas is going to be treadknicious.
The Good Reader: Ah.
The Blogger: But it may well be.
The Good Reader: Mm-hmm.
The Blogger: That’s all i’m saying.
The Good Reader: Righto.
The Blogger: So, um, anyway.
[They sit in contented silence for a moment.]
[And, just when you were tempted to think that we’d gotten to the end of this blog post…]
[Ah! Ho, ho!]
[Elvis Wu suddenly and quite unexpectedly joins in, having appeared as from the aether, from the vastness of cold space, from the undifferentiated void]
Elvis Wu: A terribly treadknicious holiday to the both of you!
The Blogger: Well, my stars and garters! If it isn’t Mister Elvis Wu!
Elvis Wu: [bows humbly] At your service.
The Blogger: It’s really good of you to come. I imagine you have a grillion things on your schedule.
Elvis Wu: Oh, i’m always down for an All Flockbinkers Are Treadknicious reunion.
The Good Reader: But, no, just waittasecond. Where, Elvis, did you just come from?
Elvis Wu.: Ah! From the Undifferentiated Void.
The Blogger: Seriously?
The Good Reader: No, goofball, he’s not being serious. Seriously! Where DID you just come from?
The Blogger: Well, if it’s not Little Biffy and Jennifer Smith!
[The two of them enter as from a gathering haze, from the towering cloud of nothingness, from the blooming manifestation of the Outer Dark]
The Good Reader: No.
The Blogger: It’s good to see the two of you!
The Good Reader: No. Just no. What in the world.
Jennifer Smith: What? OMG! Where am i? What is this? Are we… what? I am so confused. Please. I cannot EVEN.
Little Biffy: Mister Blogger!
The Blogger: What up, Biffy! How’s it going, Jennifer.
Jennifer Smith: I do not EVEN. What in… WHAT in the world.
The Blogger: It’s our little reunion party! Since it’s been about a year since the blog has seen the light of day… if, um, that’s the sort of thing that blogs do… see the light of day, i mean… we’re having a bit of a soiree to celebrate!
[Jenn finds a convenient chair to sit in, contemplate the Deeper Things, and nurse her wounded sense of How Reality Works]
The Good Reader: So i’m still confused. Are these people real, or fictional?
The Blogger: Are you?
The Good Reader: Am i what?
The Blogger: Are you real, or fictional?
The Good Reader: I’m real! Well, i mean, i’m as real as you are… whatever THAT means.
Biffy and Elvis: Wassail!
Bertie Wooster: I say!
Jennifer Smith: Waittasecond. Who’s that?
Bertie Wooster: Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, at your service, what?
Jennifer Smith: Oh. My. Word.
…and wouldn’t you know it, we find ourselves in the continuation of last year’s Christmas party–with the somewhat inexplicable addition of Mr. Bertie Wooster–as if nothing has happened in the interim!
Elvis Wu: [singing joyously] Baby, it’s treadknicious outside!
Little Biffy: I think it’s pretty darn treadknicious inside!
Jennifer Smith: Wooh, talking about ‘treadknicious’-ness, i feel a pretty treadknicious headache coming on.
Bertie Wooster: You know, Jeeves used to have the perfect potion for that sort of ailment. I wish i could tell you what the ingredients were.
The Good Reader3: Reality, as we know it–or as we think we know it–is nought but the breath of a passing moment, the exhalation of the lonely hours.
The Good Reader: Okay, that was not even me. I have no idea who that was.
And, as if in answer: “Wassail!” cry the assembled throng.
The group disappears, as into a gauzy haze–or perhaps a hazy gauze–or maybe even a hazy, gauzy mist–and we are once again left with just The Blogger and The Good Reader.
The Good Reader: I thought a throng was supposed to be a much larger group of people.
The Blogger: What?
The Good Reader: Well, if that was an assembled ‘throng,’ i’d have expected there to be, oh, i dunno, at least 20 people.
The Blogger: Well, Good Reader, we could explore at some length what the term “throng” can be used to mean in a variety of contexts….
The Good Reader: Let’s not, never mind.
The Blogger: As you wish.
The Good Reader: So, wait, i have an even more pressing question. Was all of that a dream sequence? And if so, whose dream? Yours or mine?
The Blogger: Perhaps the good reader’s dream?
The Good Reader: But i AM the Good Reader!
The Blogger: Well, i didn’t capitalize it now, did i?
The Good Reader: How should i know? I can’t tell what you’re capitalizing and what you’re not. This is conversation.
The Blogger: Okay. I was referring to the meta-good reader.
The Good Reader: The meta-good-reader?
The Blogger: Sure. The embodiment of the blog’s readership, in general.
The Good Reader: BUT THAT’S ME!
The Blogger: Hmmm. Yes. Good point. Well, i can see that, once again, we need to distinguish between “The Good Reader” #1, #2, and #3.
The Good Reader: Oh, bother.