"Biff and Walker/Sitting in a Tree/..."

I have a man-crush on Walker Percy, no doubt inspired by a not so latent Narcissism. I look at Walker, and I see myself -- and you know how much I love myself. (It's not just the sound of my own voice, you know.)

We just have so much in common. We both attended The University of North Carolina; we both love bourbon; we both believe the two most overrated things in the world are blow jobs and Duke University; we both fell in love with philosophy and semiotics; we both had our studies interrupted by debilitating illnesses; and we both love Southern women, which brings me back to this post.

If you've ever wondered what I'm looking for in a future ex-wife, here it is, a description Walker wrote to describe Binx Bolling's secretary in his National Book Award-winning first novel The Moviegoer:

...she is not really beautiful. She is a good-sized girl, at least five feet six and a hundred and thirty-five pounds -- as a big as a majorette .... Yet she had the most fearful soap-clean good looks. Her bottom is so beautiful that once as she crossed the room to the cooler I felt my eyes smart with tears of gratitude. She is one of those village beauties of which the South is so prodigal. From the sleaziest house in the sleaziest town, from the loins of redneck pa and rockface ma spring these lovelies, these rosy-cheeked Anglo-Saxon lovelies, by the million. They are commoner than sparrows, and like sparrows they are at home in the streets, in the parks, on doorsteps. No one marvels at them; no one holds them dear. They flush out of their nest first thing and alight in the cities to stay, and no one misses them. Even their men pay no attention to them, anyhow far less attention than they pay to money. But I marvel at them; I miss them; I hold them dear.

So do I, and, fortunately, enough sparrows have migrated to the Northwest.

I should be married and divorced in no time.

Now, stop reading this crap, and go read some Walker.