Call me by your name and I'll call you by mine

Apparently, they danced…

A documentary film. It means no acting, no artifice. Just the real thing. Like one of those wildlife films. Yes, except this time, we are the endangered species.

He asked me to imagine a mythological creature. A Rechsadler. A polycephalus, a two headed eagle. For the purposes of this conversation, I want you to think of it as representing us, this family, your family. There have always been the dazzling Windsors and the dull ones. Your father, A saint, but dull. Sorry. Your grandfather, too, deadly dull. At the height of the Great War when the Tsar and the Kaiser and the Emperor of Austria were dazzling the world, where was he? He was sticking stamps in his album. And so it goes, through George V to Queen Victoria and back. An uninterrupted line of stolid, turgid dreariness. [Culminating in me] Well, yes, but…that dull, dutiful, reliable, heroic strain runs another. The dazzling, the brilliant, the individualistic, and the dangerous. And so, for every Victoria you get an Edward VII. For every George V, you get a Prince Eddy. For every George VI, you get an Edward VIII. For every Lilibet, you get a Margaret.

“It's always some stupid killer stalking some big breasted girl-who can’t act-who always runs up the stairs when she should be going out the front door.”

Lisa, whatever female-driven, emotion-based dilemma you may be dealing with right now, you have my sympathy. But for the sake of time and sanity, let’s break this down into a little male-driven, fact-based logic. One simple phone call saves your dad’s life.