It's been two long years since the last Dirt Alert, but I had to bust it out again because one of my favorite people on the planet, Mr. Michael Stack, is having a rather significant birthday. (No need to go into specifics.)Stack has the rather dubious honor of being my oldest-friend-that-I-still-continuously-hang-out-with. I met him at Berkeley - he was no doubt wearing some sort of checkered tweed pant, a bicycle jersey, and a sweater that weighed over 40 lbs. I don't think I understood a word he said for the first three years.
But he and his household did introduce me to: The fine art of having dinner together every night, people who actually read good books for fun, and the refreshing idea that there was a way to be an adult (sic) that didn't totally suck or bore me to tears. (Sadly, they were never able to teach me to properly wash and dry dishes. Well, more sad for them than me.)
So happy birthday, St. Ack. My wishes for you: a skunk-spraying lock for your bicycle; a signed edition of “Soviet and Russian Cosmonauts 1960-2000;” tons of new sweaters, fo' free; and of course, many many more.
