It is an ordinary morning. Scott wakes up, showers, downs a cup of coffee and unslumbers his laptop. The air conditioner in front of which he sits spews cool air and white noise.
Scott: (to himself) Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, Eric Rauchway, spam, spam, spam—ERIC RAUCHWAY?!? (vigorously fans his hands in front of his face) The Eric Rauchway? (turns to bookshelf, removes Murdering McKinley from the shelf, stares the cover) Why I—I—I c—can't, c—can't hardly br—br—br—brea— (labored wheezing, followed by a dull thud as his head hits the keyboard)
Time passes. Scott unslumps, looks confused, composes himself, replies to Rauchway's email and begins work for the day. The air conditioner continues blanketing his study with cool air and white noise. Scott is completely unaware of the Little Womedievalist as she enters.
LW: (savoring the moment) Pack—
Scott: (jumping seven startled feet straight up) Jesus Christ!
LW: —age from Amazon. (exits)
Scott: (gathering himself) What do we have here? Michael's What's Liberal About the Liberal Arts? Excellent. Just the thing I need to procrastinate. (opens book, flips to the acknowledgments page and reads aloud) "I want to thank Timothy Burke, some guy, some famous guy, some guy, Ralph Luker"—that's awful sweet—"Christopher Clarke, Roxanne Cooper, John Holbo, Scott Eric Kaufman and Amardeep Sin"—SCOTT ERIC KAUFMAN?!? (vigorouslier fans his hands in front of his face) ME Scott Eric Kaufman? (turns to mirror, looks at self, looks at book, points at self, points at page) Why I—I—I c—can't, c—can't hardly br—br—br—brea— (more labored wheezing, followed by a duller thud as his head hits the keyboard again)
Five minutes later, Scott rouses himself, rereads the page, reacquires the vapors and faints again. Ten minutes after that, Scott rerouses himself, rerereads the page, rereacquires the vapors and faints again.
Time passes.
Seven hours later, the Little Womedievalist enters wearing a worried expression. The air conditioner still spews cool air and white noise. She looks at her husband, slumped over the keyboard, whispering his happiness in desperate, wheezy syllables and laughs, lovingly, at the foolish man-child before her.
That was lovely, made me smile...going to Amazon to purchase said book and one for fainting spells to be delivered to one Scott Eric Kaufman...that or some smelling salts...
Posted by: Sine.Qua.Non | Saturday, 02 September 2006 at 11:10 PM
Oddly, the very first thought when I started reading this was "Coffee?!" Healthfreak SEK drinks coffee?!" What happened to the green tea?
The immediate next thought was AWESOME!! My dream is to have a dedication in a law review article (not widely read, mind you) that is not just a thanks for research assistance. But a BOOK by the PRESIDENT of the MLA that will be WIDELY READ?! AWESOME!!
Your name, the long, academic-ish, tripartite thing that it is (seriously, I thought "Belle A. Lettre" was academic-sounding and pretentious enough), is now guaranteed to live on, and the black ciphers that spell your name will sit on the shelves of the LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.
TOO cool. Congratulations to you!
Posted by: Belle Lettre | Saturday, 02 September 2006 at 11:58 PM
Your name, the long, academic-ish, tripartite thing that it is )
Or serial-killer-ish. When I recently reported a conversation with SEK to my wife, she said "What did I tell you about communicating with guys with three names over the innernets?"
I'm sure she was right, and I'll soon stop.
Congrats on receiving a acknowledgement as a grad student that isn't a cypher for "I stole your idea! You know, the one in your as yet unpublished paper for my seminar!" I've got one of those...
Posted by: CR | Sunday, 03 September 2006 at 01:05 AM
Oh, and thank you for not mentioning the "two n"s problem. (You know what I am talking about.) Honestly, I do make the most boneheaded, no-excuses-possible mistakes sometimes.
Posted by: Michael Bérubé | Sunday, 03 September 2006 at 01:11 PM
I still drink that during the day, but I open with a cup of coffee. Different kinds of caffeine, each contains, so I shock my system awake, then gently nudge it into gear. (Or, I could riff on S.Q.N.'s advice and go with the smelling salts, thrice daily ... which, now that I think about it, I'm not sure why more people don't do it. The Little Womedievalist does, in a way: she has a truly vast collection of perfume minis, which she smells throughout the day to "wake up her nose." I suppose the rest of her brain goes with it.)
No problem. Just means I have to change my name, that's all.
The alternative, however, is that you'd be talking to the designer of the "Porn Star" clothing line or some anonymous, probably shady, Hollywood grip. So really, I can't win.
Posted by: Scott Eric Kaufmann | Sunday, 03 September 2006 at 02:20 PM
No problem. Just means I have to change my name, that's all.
Well, it's about time.
Posted by: Michael Bérubé | Sunday, 03 September 2006 at 04:00 PM
When I'm mentioned in the acknowledgements for Saul Kripke's next book, I'll let you know.
Posted by: Alex Leibowitz | Tuesday, 05 September 2006 at 12:51 AM
Shouldn't 'The really curious question, I think, is why the junior scholars and the graduate students are just as liberal—or, as George Will suggests, "more uniformly liberal"—than most of their senior colleagues who were hired thirty or forty years ago' read, in the middle, 'just as liberal as—or, as George Will suggests, "more uniformly liberal" than—…'?
Posted by: ben wolfson | Thursday, 07 September 2006 at 01:34 PM