Letter to the Dull Men's Club

Dear Sirs,

I enjoy visiting your web site, and as a computer engineer and Buddhist meditator, I have always felt confident that I could be considered a member.

Like many dull men, my breakfast rarely varies - every few years the particular brand of breakfast cereal I eat changes due to factors out of my control, but otherwise, the menu is soothingly consistent.

However, yesterday I noticed a carafe of orange juice in the refrigerator. This is an unusual occurrence; I think my wife obtained it for some visiting child. Well, something came over me, and I poured myself a half-glass.

You can imagine what ensued. When my wife saw me sipping this exuberantly sweet beverage, she stopped eating and said, “You’re drinking orange juice.” I paused, looked up, and declared firmly, “Yes. Yes, I am drinking orange juice.” “Are you all right?”, she inquired. “It IS my birthday,” I replied, a bit defensively. “Well…”, she mused, “I don’t know, but we may have to revoke your membership in the Dull Men’s Club.”

This was a frightening thought. I hasten to reassure you that she restored my credentials soon afterward. My daughter gave me a long-wished-for set of proper shoe-polishing brushes, and I expressed great pleasure and even (restrained) excitement. (Old socks simply don’t work well, either for polish application or for buffing.) As the daughter and I were making gleeful plans to polish some shoes later on in the day, my wife declared that I was fully reinstated into the DMC.

After waiting a prudent 24 hours to let the emotional turbulence of these events subside, I am writing to report.

In proud solidarity,

Timothy Weber

Ithaca, New York

(posted on the DMC’s Dullog)