As I child, I was raised on a diet of Muppets, Marx Brothers, Mel Brooks, MAD Magazine, and the pun wars in Isaac Asimov's SF Magazine. I consider these to be major formative influences on my sense of humor. Be forewarned.

These are a few of my favorite things:

• My favorite movie of all time is The Tall Guy, a little-known comedy from 1990 starring Jeff Goldblum and Emma Thompson.
    Why? Because it never fails to make me laugh out loud. The only time I have ever regretted watching this film was the night I had my wisdom teeth removed, and that's because laughing hurt.
• My favorite book of all time is Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. Again, it always makes me laugh.
    Generally speaking, my favorite book is whichever one I just finished reading, but this has been the top of my list for about a decade now. For a few years in college, I considered Marion Zimmer Bradley's Mists of Avalon as my favorite book, and before that I chose Margaret Atwood's Handmaid's Tale.
• My favorite musical group is Queen, with the Monkees in second place. My favorite members of both bands are the drummers -- Roger Taylor and Mickey Dolenz -- so make of that what you will. I've heard many of the drummer jokes, but those two actually are good musicians in their own right.
    There's an old saying that "The Golden Age of comics is twelve." Well, my golden age of music is high school -- I love mid-Eighties' New Wave and the early days of MTV. Also, since I tend to listen to most music in the car, I tend to prefer tunes with what I call "a good driving beat." But in general, I like songs (and groups) which display intelligence and wit, regardless of genre. Thus, I'm a big fan of filk (though not so much of Weird Al, for whom I lost a lot of my interest with his Dare to be Stupid album, because I thought he succeeded (though he did rebound on later albums)).
• I discovered my favorite artist, Fanny Brennan, last summer (2001) during a trip to New Orleans. She does tiny pieces (her coffeetable book is the size of a drink coaster), but displays a sense of the absurd that closely maps to my own. I actually own two of her pieces, Mess of Books and Cascade.
    Other artists whose work I adore include Erte and Colleen Doran. As far as specific pieces are concerned, I'm in love with Kinuko Y. Craft's cover to Tanith Lee's Silver Metal Lover. Not only is it a gorgeous portrait, but it manages to capture the blurring of fantasy and SF genres. I wish I could afford it.
• Lilacs are my favorite flower.

The other day, I got to thinking about what I would do if I didn't have to worry about money.

If my material needs could be provided for, I'd become a perpetual student for the next ten years or so. There are just so many things I want to learn. I'd start by finishing off my Library Science degree, in part because I see that as learning how to learn (or, at least, learning how to find and evaluate information, which is an important part of learning in general). Then, I'd go on to dabble. I don't think I'd pursue another degree, but just take classes that interest me from nearby colleges (which does include Harvard and MIT, so I'm hardly selling myself short). I'd like to learn a bit of Law, just to gain a grounding, and I'd spend some time studying Talmud. I want to become fluent in Yiddish, Biblical Hebrew and Latin. I'd definitely take more classes in History and American Studies, including in-depth readings of Alexis de Tocqueville and Elizabethan and Jacobean writers (not just Shakespeare and Marlowe, but their lesser-known contemporaries like Nashe and Harrington). And Ian's communication studies raised some interesting ideas that I'd like to explore. Mostly, I'd just flit about like an academic butterfly, exploring whatever whims catch my eye.

I'd also like to travel, across the United States and around Europe. I definitely want to spend some time in Washington, DC, and would try to time a trip so I could attend a Supreme Court session or two. Just for fun, I recently put myself on the mailing lists of several cruise lines. Ian rather likes Cunard's 100+ day Voyage of Six Continents World Cruise, but I think I prefer the itinerary of some of Seabourn's cruises to Scotland and Scandinavia. But those are merely daydreams -- I doubt I'd ever actually blow $40,000+ on something like that. Instead, we'd be more likely to just drive and rail around where the whims take us. I've enjoyed the Rick Steves' Europe series on PBS, so might be tempted to take one of his tours across the Continent. At the very least, I'd never miss a WorldCon again.

Then, after a decade or so of this, I'd consider going into politics. I think I have ideas and talents that would be quite useful in government. Years of QE and Design would be invaluable in lawmaking. Through QE, I developed the skill of looking at proposals and finding all the ways they might go wrong in real-world implementation. Legislatively, I'd try to kill Murphy's Bills before they become Murphy's Law. And, what are bad bureaucratic procedures but symptoms of a flawed design? [I've already got a slogan: "Debug the State"] Of course, the more I write here and on my website, the more I'm probably hurting my chances by providing political enemies with more fodder for attack me. If I can't actually get elected, then I'd try to become a pundit. [I'll confess, I covet the career Joshua Micah Marshall has built for himself.] If I can't have a bully pulpit, then I at least want a larger audience for my soapbox. However, since I generally try to see both sides of most issues, and am not much for generating soundbites, I doubt I'd fit well in the current talk-news format.

Mind you, all this is predicated on having reasonable wealth -- enough that I could live comfortably for the rest of my life without having to work fulltime.

If I managed to gain ludicrous wealth (the kind lottery players dream about), well... then our dreams get far grander. We'd start up a charitable foundation or two (that's not to say we wouldn't give to charity with reasonable wealth (or even now), but ludicrous wealth would enable us to really customize our giving). I know that Ian wants a top-of-the-line luxury submarine. I'd have a new custom-built home for ourselves and would buy or build a small apartment building nearby for our friends, so folks could live closer together and see each other more often (or just visit).

It's a common thought experiment to ask if you could dine with ten people throughout history, living or dead (presumably with some way of bridging language barriers and reviving the deceased) who would you invite?

Well, assuming that Ian was automatically invited, and preferably with the ability to spread the party over several days (rather than one big dinner for a dozen where I'd never get a chance to talk with anyone), here's who I'd like to meet:

• John Adams. Actually, besides dining with him, I'd love to take him to a stage production of 1776 to get his reaction.
• Two Renaissance scientist/thinkers: Rambam and Leonardo DaVinci
• Three futurists: Asimov, Heinlein and Jules Verne
• Three British writers: Christopher Marlowe, Oscar Wilde and the man who wrote Shakespeare's sonnets and plays (probably William Shakespeare, but I'd hate to invite the wrong guy). Besides it sounding like a really fun, witty conversation, I'd love to find out exactly what happened to Kit Marlowe on that day in Deptford (yeah, he probably was murdered that day, rather than spirited away into a new identity, but what were the actual motives?); learn the canonical list of which plays and poems were actually written by Shakespeare; find out the identity of Shakespeare's dark lady and young man; and tell Wilde and Marlowe a bit about the gay rights movement of the last quarter-century and that not only is it now okay for men to love men, but that they're somewhat considered heroes/martyrs.
• Last, but certainly not least, the only name that never shifts from my lists: Grandpa Nate. Ian and my friendship only began to bloom after his death; I think they really would've gotten along well together, and I just miss him.

And that's my ten. Runners-up include:

• Several artists who died with their bodies of work incomplete, such as Jim Henson, Freddie Mercury, Howard Ashman and maybe E.B. White (remember, the book Stuart Little ends on a cliffhanger). But I'd want more than one evening with them, to give them time to create.
• I'd like to meet Ben Franklin and Thomas Jefferson, but I'd first want an evening alone with John Adams (he was always so insecure) before seating all of them together. Maybe pair Franklin up with Jules Verne instead for the older generation of futurists.
• Homer would be interesting for much the same reasons as Shakespeare -- to find out what else he wrote
• Groucho Marx would just be fun (maybe pair him up with Oscar Wilde for an evening?)
• And maybe Reb Shlomo Carlebach, out of a hope that he might have some ideas for how to resolve the current Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

I noticed upon analysis that there are no women on the list. I've tried to think of some -- Queen Elizabeth I is certainly tempting, but might be too demanding a guest. But for the most part, despite my strong feminist leanings, I've always gravitated towards male pursuits, so don't see much reason to add women to the party simply for the sake of adding women. Make sense?

Added June 27:

Sure enough, just after I posted the list, I thought of a woman who I want to meet: Gypsy Rose Lee. Amazing woman. The musical Gypsy barely touches the surface. I've read (and own) her autobiography, Gypsy (which the musical is based upon) and her son's biography, Gypsy and me, which continues her story from there to her death. She was a canny businesswoman with a lot of chutzpah, and I've found her both impressive and inspirational. She wasn't conventionally beautiful, either, but had more than enough character and wit to compensate. [BTW, although I've seen a few stills of her in costume, if anybody knows where I might see a film clip of one of her routines, I'd be immensely grateful.]

So, anyway, if I want to add Gypsy, that means bumping somebody else off the list. Offhand, I'm eliminating Jules Verne, because my interest in him is closer to a vague curiousity than an abiding passion.