Chapter 31

Muller’s back is sprained, but that’s about it. The official story is he slipped and fell. Judy reads him The Road Less Traveled, which I’m sure goes right over his head. I had trouble with it myself, especially the bit about holes. Supposedly, we all have these emotional holes. Relationships are based on how well we fill the other person’s hole. Muller must have one the size of a tanker truck. How Judy even makes a dent in it is a mystery to me. I wish she didn’t love him so much. One of these days, Muller’s going to do something really stupid (not that he hasn’t already), and Judy’s going to fall apart. I know how easily that can happen. I don’t want her ending up like those people writing into Otis Cries for You. I can see Margot pushing Otis out of his chair and saying, “Move on, Judy. He couldn’t even give you a kid. What was he waiting for? A coronation?”

To be honest, I don’t know where Margot gets her advice. She’s never been married, never had kids. In all the time I’ve known her, the closest she came to a meaningful relationship was with Joey. Maybe that’s what makes the Internet an equal opportunity medium. Anyone can sit there weeping like a baby, or dispensing tough love.

If the Internet brings the masses together, it also lets anyone with a computer be a quack. Look at Otis. He’s not even wearing pants half the time. How can anyone take advice from him? The man’s a moron, but he’s already up over four thousand viewers an hour. The other day, he told a woman she could get rid of crow’s feet by watching horror movies. Fourteen people blogged saying it really worked. Margot had to get on and tell them they’re all ninnies.

Feminist groups send Margot messages every day, inviting her to conferences and rallies. The other week, she told Ruby she’s thinking of attending one on the fifteenth. “I’ll go with you,” Ruby said. “We’ll get the fur flying,” which is just the sort of thing Margot should avoid. She’s never been able to keep her opinions to herself, and I doubt they’re flattering to feminists. She hates them as much as Frank does. You still don’t fuck with those women. I read about a feminist in Evanston who had a man in court, claiming he was using his telescope to watch her undress. The guy was a noted astronomer and taught at the university. Even after giving his credentials to the judge, the woman still complained that she was being observed. If not by him, at least by someone in the galaxy. The judge found the astronomer in contempt when he casually said, “I think alien life forms are more selective than that.”

The astronomer was ordered to move the telescope nearer the university and do community service. The woman got a lot of press, appearing on talk shows, getting feminists all worked up. The university didn’t need the hassle. They took away the astronomer’s tenure and now he’s gazing at stars in the Nevada desert somewhere.

If Margot and Ruby start something with the feminists, I hope I’m up on a ladder, scrapping paint, and not anywhere near Otis’s place. Imagine him telling a bunch of angry women to go hook their toes on door handles. We’ll have every feminist in the country out there looking like hyenas. Some of them are more bug-eyed than Otis.