Dinner Jacket

The disclaimer is right up at the top, folks. First thing it says up there is "Includes topics of absolutely no interest whatsoever to my wife".

Mrs. Guambat keeps Mr. Guambat sane, domestically happy and centered. She judges people, whoever they are and whatever they do, by how they look and behave. They have to look "nice" and behave civilly, respectfully, graciously and honestly. She'll never forgive Bill Clinton because of his wandering penis denial. She's got an artistic bent. She especially likes happy people, kittens and puppies. She never let the kids go to bed angry or hungry, and the only things she argues with Guambat over is parking spaces and which way to hang the toilet paper, and he can't win those, either.

Long long time ago, Guambat went to the Univ. of Texas. Over its main hall is chizzled part of the enigmatic but uplifting phrase from Keats' Ode on a Grecian Urn: "Beauty is truth, truth beauty". (Guambat doesn't know if the builders ran out of room or what, but they didn't include the last of the phrase: "that is all/Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.")

Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Guambat decided long ago (he only met her after attending UT long long ago) that, in their own division of labor, Mrs. Guambat would discern truth from beauty, and Mr. Guambat will dis-Urn beauty from truth.

And so they will continue to live happily ever after and grow ode together.

But Mrs. Guambat doesn't totally close herself off from what Mr. Guambat patronisingly calls "the real world", and Mr. Guambat desperately needs to be able to go forth placidly in it, thus they rely on each other to hold up their respective ends of truth and beauty.

So it was that Mrs. Guambat asked Mr. Guambat, "who is that guy who every one is talking about who thinks he's a Dinner Jacket?"

Set back only half a moment, Guambat explained he is the political leader of Iran, but she didn't really have any interest to know the rest. She thought, once she understood which particular talking head he was that she had seen on TV, that he doesn't look particularly nice.

But now Guambat is stuck with forever knowing him as "I'm a Dinner Jacket". And the thought of that just happily evaporates any concerning gibberish that escapes his mouth.

Good night, Gracie.