"I just talked to a pair of biceps."

Does Cary normally dehumanized people or only people of whom he looks down upon?

If he'd spoken to a female officer, would he have referred to a "pair of breasts"?

And what's the LW pretending not to know--her honey's had manic episodes before, but she was willing to overlook those when he seemed to be on the big-paycheck track? But now that he's gone all Sgt. York, she's concerned? Right.

The wife has an explosive temper, the kid has an explosive temper, and the LW is dancing around like a rock star, when he's not floating in a state of zen-like calm. I foresee a violent sacrifice in the kitchen, and it's not the aging cat.

He does what he does, and everyone else should just deal with it. (Which is what Cary does, as well.)

On the other hand, Cary's wacky advice must get eyeballs, as the number of letters proves. Since most of Salon's writers are rather dull, at least Cary's stirring things up.

Why has the letter writer committed her life to writing--and what kind of writing? Technical manuals, ad copy, advice columns, erotica, scripts for sitcoms? There's lots of different avenues and genres, and sustaining a career in some wouldn't be particularly difficult. But the letter writer hides her real agenda--she wants to be recognized as a "writer". The recognition, not the action, is what matters to her.

So, get a t-shirt or a tractor hat made that proclaims you're a writer. After all, Salon published you.

Cary gasses on about things he knows little about. Ivy league PhD programs aren't crowded with the summering, yachting classes. Perhaps the letter writer might try working in the real world for a while, before he plunges into either program. His chances for meaningful work with a PhD are slim anyway, so why not try writing something with that shiny MFA, down South with the long-suffering beau?