Dear Joss Whedon, would you consider coming over for dinner?

Dear Joss Whedon, would you consider coming over for dinner?

Every month ChicagoNow bloggers participate in “Blogapalooz-Hour,” an optional writing exercise in which, at precisely 9 p.m. on the last Wednesday of the month, a topic is sent out. Whoever decides to partake must conceive, write and then publish a post exactly one hour later. The October, 2015 topic: “Write a letter to a celebrity convincing them you should become best friends” 

A confession: I didn’t write this last night. But I couldn’t get the topic out of my mind. So I wrote it this afternoon. 

Dear Joss,

As I was driving along with my daughter today, she looked at me and said, “Do you think Joss Whedon knows how much he has empowered girls with Buffy?”

We’re watching all seven seasons of Buffy again in celebration of my daughter’s senior year. The first time we saw it together (it was my second time through), we watched during the process of moving from Alaska to Chicago. We watched Season 7 in dumpy little motels along the Alaska Highway. My daughter was 12 and leaving behind the only home she’d ever known.

What could be more empowering than hearing Buffy say these words:

So here’s the part where you make a choice. What if you could have that power, now? In every generation, one Slayer is born, because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. They were powerful men. [points to Willow] This woman… is more powerful than all of them combined. [Willow whimpers] So I say we change the rule. I say my power… should be our power. Tomorrow, Willow will use the essence of the Scythe to change our destiny. From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer, will be a Slayer. Every girl who could have the power, will have the power, can stand up, will stand up. Slayers… every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?

We had to put our cat down yesterday. It was devastating, but last night, we watched Season 2, Episode 3, the one where Spike and Drusilla arrive in Sunnyvale for the first time. We needed that, Joss. Nothing makes us much happier than Spike and Drusilla. My daughter still squeezes into her “Edith” t-shirt that I gave her five years ago. And nothing makes our hearts go pitter patter like a vampire with a bad British accent and bleached blonde hair.

So, Joss, what I want to say is that you’ve changed our lives for the better. I don’t want to overwhelm you with some sort of guru status or anything. We don’t idealize you, not at all. In fact, my daughter said today, “I’d like to meet Joss because he’s normal. I think he wouldn’t be overwhelming. He’d be like us.”

I have to say that I agree with her. So, would you consider having dinner with us at our house? I mean, it would involve a trip to Chicago, but I’m a good cook. And, I’m sure you’re tired of all the Hollywood crap. The paparazzi and the restaurants and the starlets.

We’re just normal around here. Well, sort of. As normal as you can get in a home of college professors, one of whom teaches philosophy and has some sort of weird connection to llamas. Not to mention a real British accent. There’s also the fact that my daughter knows more about 1970s music and culture than I do. She’ll teach you a thing or two about David Bowie if you just give her a chance.

One thing, though. We’ll have to invite our friends Lori and Janson to join us. See, they introduced us to your universe. I hopped into the Whedonverse with Firefly, and I’ve never really wanted to leave. But, I’d never have done it without Lori and Janson.

Just so you know, Lori, Janson, and I once won a Jeopardy fund raising contest for our local library wearing team shirts imprinted with “I watch Passions with Spike.” I don’t remember the final answer, but the question was “What is southeastern Alaska?”

I know you probably get lots of invitations, Joss. And, I know that it’s risky replying to strangers on the internet. (We know about the Twitter thing, and we feel your pain on that.) But, we’re kindred spirits. I just know we are.

Remember the graduation speech you gave at Wesleyan? It was fantastic. And, I know that for sure because I study rhetoric. I’m a rhetorician and that would be an fine example of epideictic rhetoric, which is my special area of interest. I’ll tell you all about that if you join us for dinner.

You know my favorite part about your speech? You actually graduated from college. I grow tired of the speeches given by folks who have had wild success and never completed college. This is a digression, but maybe we could talk about that at dinner, too.

It’ll be low key, just my family, Lori and Janson and their daughter Aurelia (she’s adorable by the way), and you (and a guest of your choice). I’ll make you whatever you want, but my specialties are Italian and homemade breads. Oh, and desserts.

About the desserts, Joss. If you wouldn’t mind, could you bring along Nathan Fillion and James Marsters? I mean just for dessert and coffee. Dinner is all about you.

Let me know. My email is in my bio to the right. And, even if you don’t take me up on the offer, please know that we’re really, truly fans. We love the Avengers, which won’t surprise you. But Lori, Janson, and I actually watched the Dollhouse. Just sayin’.

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