Horrors and scopic devices

I’m not much of a believer, a believer in much of anything really. Okay, that’s technically untrue but for the sake of argument, stay with me for one short moment. Accepting the proposition that I am an unbeliver, nonbeliever, what have you, I do however read my horoscope. I said "read," not believe. This week foretells:

This week, you'll fear you're not getting the credit you deserve, but that's not necessarily so. Take a note from Dolly Parton's duets — she never gets into a decibel duel with her singing partner. But that doesn't mean you ever forget she's there. And because of how hot you look, no one will forget that you're at least half-responsible for how good sex with you is.

Now that’s interesting. I do like being compared to Dolly Parton on any and all occasions. I may not bear the blonde wig or the buxomness of this worthy comparison nor the tiny Dolly frame nor the ability to wear all white when I damn well feel like it but, putting all that aside – suspension of disbelief, kids – I fancy myself a Dolly Parton of sorts. No, I can’t sing worth a lick. But there is something very interesting there. And no, I haven’t quite figured it out at this particular juncture in the blog, but bear with me.

My interpretation of said scopic segment is thus. I am hot. Undeniable. I am unforgettable. Clearly. I am half-responsible. Excellent news. As for that last juicy nugget, yeah, it’s pretty much a given so why even bother? You know the James Brown song – fine, now you’re privy to the fact that I was the muse. Just don’t tell Jimmy; he gets dodgy about such confessions.

I think the point here is that I am, if anything, non-confrontational. I’m not going to duke it out with you because we both know at the end of the day I am too damn handsome and clever and charming to give a good God damn anyway. This isn’t narcissism; this is my burden to bear through this however-short and painful life.

In sum, I will from this point forward overlook your failure to “excuse me” while cutting into line or jostling me roughly at a street corner or other such lapses in basic human decency. Because I know, as you know, that I am like totally Dolly Parton and you’re just an accompanist who happens to keep good form and good tune when in my presence. Kudos to you!