For the Love of a Quickie…

I’ve been so engrossed in electioneering (someone calling himself “chiraq” sent me an innocent sounding email that ended with: “… you have aroused my long dormant “errection fever”… hmm... I’ll assume he is Asian, and call it a day), that I’ve been neglecting my real work, so I’m taking the easy way out today… (I’ve done all I can to avoid a “mother-son” dance that the qebeT, crucible of crazy school I send my kid to. You can take the girl out of Abesha, but not the Abesha out of the girl… I hate these excruciatingly banal events. They do nothing to further the bond with your child… and you leave the damn thing $250.00 poorer, stuffed with mediocre chocolate chip cookies that Tiffany/Ashley/Bunny baked “with my bare hands”, your head spinning with Rodeo Drive war stories told with acute urgency by MILF housewives.Total suckage. But then again I am caught in that guilt-web we Ethiopians call yilugNta… it’s the most vicious of vicious circles. So, I'm going to the damn dance. Solution provided by my husband: “ItyoPiya lakiew!” But of course.)

Anyway, I wanted to post two letters I got which gave me hope that I am not the lone ebd in this world… There are more of us than I thought. The silent majority speaks…

From Tuloffa:

Ms. Wonkette! Look, just because this is your damn blog and you saw fit to set sho’ ‘nuff impossibly high standards for your damn blog, I’ll be damned if I’ll let you have all the fun all by yo’ lonesome self. So, here I am, and I ain’t even no nubile young man in tight pants. Young? Forget it! Nubile? Boy, if that’s not a tall order! Couldn’t even fake it if I tried. Isn’t “nubile”a term used of young women?

And, that, Ms.Wonkette, leaves the tight pants. Last time I tried them on, I was left gasping for air and regretted that I was so far removed from young. See? Jimmah has no exclusive hold on Regret! Perhaps it’s an age thing, you think? I mean, what could an Octogenarian on Jet-lag have but, uh, Regret?

Come to think of it, you too have expressed regret . . . that “more thoughtful, sharp” Ethiopians are not raconteur-ing on the web. You old, Ms. Wonkette? Afer yiblaN! Should I call you Wonkette Tiliqua? Anyway, I’ll tell you why those sharp Ethiopians you speak of are madfeTing at a safe distance these days. Having shed their tight pants long ago, they are now chillin’ in their breathe-easy slacks while soaking some, uh, de tiredness out of them feet, as Zora would put it. “Ney esti anchi,.. CHew . .CHew argibet esti!”

And so, Wonkette Tiliqua, WHO left to do the writing but those clearly-pleased-with-themselves-up-to-date folks in tight pants, who are yet to find that their articulate introspection is born of an urgent need to breathe? Inhale, Exhale, Inhale . . .! I regret, there I go again, that folks won’t let them pants out a little so they can breathe. There would be so much less “scholarly constipation” as you call it (I like you, WonkiyE) if they did! Less CHinqet, less constipation! Less dirqet, fewer dereq, ergo, less medareq! You see how it all boils down to the pants, yene imebet? The tighter the pants, the tight-asser the person, the tight-asser the person, the more breathless the remark! Enough to make the “right insane people” stay tight-lipped about it all and just sit tight!

I know, I know, Wonkette Tiliq Sew, I’m not exactly serving you that side-order of irony, wit and perspective you so crave. Even the little bit I have, I am dishing out in more than 7 words! Your uncle might have summed this up like this: “Medareq honwal! Andu kandu yemayshalibet gizE meTa!”

You, Winkette Tiliqua, are the best bargain in town. Le-agotish yekebere selamtayen aqirbiliN. Adera!

Ahhh.

And from Ye Filwiha Lij:

I didn't know Ana Marie Cox has a clone sista – that too a black one, I assume! shhh must have been done before Dolly.

A Memorial Day "inter-nets" meandering led me to your blog. You can write girl -- oooooo or lady, whateva!!! I read them all; I really did! What I say, not that it matters ...

The Great Disvirgining - I hope you're not walkin' funny nomo!

Landslide My Ass - ere besmeam bey, tuff tuff, lijish fitt?

Curbing My Enthusisam - Amen.

Ethiopia's Baghdad minitise kibitirse - I hear ya.

Game, Set, Match - A very true and personal story is in order here. My mother, who must be in heaven now (if she's not, her seat should be even before Mother Theresa's) had promised that she would weave a Gabi by herself if "Jimmah's" peace initiative well over a decade ago had worked. Every time I see him on TV, I wonder what she would have said if she were alive to see this.

EPRDF's Gift to the Opposition - minew ete yihe right wing mekebater all in the name of religion, please!!

You're in my favorite now - can't wait to read your next blog after "redecorating or something" I would hope.

Enew

P.S. Ohh I forgot about one of the comments - you know which one. That Molla or could it be Godele? Talk about IQ - the kind Molly Ivins would say need to be watered ever morning as the plant on your window sills. I am all for civility and intelligent discussions etc although the latter does not usually include me, but I'm itching so bad that I need to get this off my chest. To Molla, in the undying words of the vice president of this great republic we live in, "Go F$#@ yourself!!" Efoyyyyyyy tinifis aliku!