Tugboat skippers. All the frogs, individually, who turn the duck pond right by my house into a glorious symphonic din I can hear walking home from three blocks off every night this time of year. Rachel Menken. And Maureen Dowd, perhaps out for dining and drinks on the town, despite me periodically imagining brilliant she in an Emma Peel-style catsuit (think I'm a weasel and a schmendrek? Welp, in Mo's column of 3/14/05, in the lede she remarks "I try to think of myself as Emma Peel in a black leather catsuit, giving a kung fu kick to any diabolical mastermind who merits it." And I'm whole-heartedly with that). Let's see ... oh, ham radio fanatics who are so devoutly enamored of their hobby that they have vanity license plates with their call signs. I don't really don't want to meet any of those people at all; I'm just perversely fascinated with them to the point that I always want to leave notes on their windshields, but I'm never sure just what exactly to write. I'd certainly like to meet up with some, or better yet, all right-wing "pajamahudeen" bloggers, so I could lure them with the promise of an illicit video clip of Michelle Malkin and Ann Coulter locked in a saucy embrace, and then give 'em a map of the world with directions on how they might witness a live glimpse of said torrid coupling that would land them all for a long, inescapable stay in the remote, chilly Kerguelen Archipelago (no DSL lines there, in fact no lines at all, just lots of steno pads, no. 10 envelopes and French postage stamps). Who else ... Clementine Kruczynski -- and why the hell not? Fran Kubelik. Trish Piedmont. Enid Coleslaw. Miranda Hobbes. Claire Fisher. The Countess Olenska. Jane Lane. Liz Lemon. Sookie Sapperstein (hey, enough with the fictional female protaganists already). Thomas Pynchon, to force him to own up to the fact that he used to live two towns over from me (well, he DID). I had a dream once I went golfing with Bill Clinton (yeah, so I'm a dweeb), and that seems like kind of a cool idea, although I'd also like to invite Bill Murray and Samuel L. Jackson to round out the foursome. I wouldn't mind the opportunity to throw back some stiff drinks with Johnny Cash, Warren Zevon, Joe Strummer and Paul Westerberg -- oh wait; they're all dead. 'Cept for you, Paul; mostly I'd like to so I could sell him on my recent dream of writing a screenplay all about the glory days of The Replacements, which would cause him no doubt to tell me to fuck off. Melvin DuMar (look it up), so I can nail down the veracity of his tale. The man, woman or child who personally brings me the head of Michael Bay. The person who invited sleep, so I could punch his/her lights out for causing a third of my life to go down the tubes. Whoever it was who came up with the corrosive modern malaise that are emoticons ... who I theorize was also Michael Bay, so just skip back to two points ago. Bill Lee. Babs Stanwyck. David Axelrod. Nate Silver. Heather Havrilesky. Laura Kightlinger. Ira Glass. Tina Fey. Thelma Ritter. Declan MacManus. Johnny Canal. Dorothy Parker. Edith Wharton. Elinor Glyn. Andrew Sullivan. Lorelai Gilmore. Thomas Paine. Kate Winslet. Paul Thomas Anderson. John Reed. Nick and Nora Charles (and I guess Phillip Marlowe as well). Amy Sedaris. Lou Reed. Ari Gold. Doris Kearns Goodwin. Janine Zacharia. Robert Pollard. Kim Deal. Legs McNeil. Egon Schile. Atticus Finch. Willow Rosenberg. Ignatius J. Reilly. Aline Kominsky-Crumb. John Waters. Max Fischer. Pauline Kael. Roy Cohn. Arianna Huffington. Joanna Angel. Alexander Cockburn (oh wait; I ran into 'im at Kinko's once -- true story). Patricia Highsmith. Jim Thompson. Addison DeWitt, Seymour Hersh. Neko Case. Wendy and Lisa. Lerner and Loewe. Lenny and Carl. Apu Nahasapeemapetilon, for that matter. Roz Chast. Chuck Todd. Bailey Quarters. Henry Hill. Martin Luther. Valerie Plame. Judd Apatow. Paul Feig. Robert Benchley. Bigfoot. Orson Welles. Joss Whedon. Chet and Bunny Leeway. Joe Gillis. Carrie Fischer. Emperor Constantine. Paul Lynde. Chloe O'Brian. Buddy Bradley. Vittorio Storaro. Bill Hicks and D. Boon, someday someway. Katherine Clifton. Bill Moyers. Bruce Eric Kaplan. Russ Meyer. Chris Matthews. Jet Girl. Jack Gladney, professor of Hitler Studies. Fictious IFC heroines Jackie Woodman and Julia Sullivan. Bond villains. That former Weather Underground member who won on "Jeopardy" and who now owns a tiny dive on the way, way Upper West Side but whose name escapes me right now. Brian something, I do believe. Flanagan? But most of all, a tall, funny woman. Oh, and Garrett Brown, so my life can be arranged as one single, gliding, unbroken Steadicam shot. Yeah, that last one's an old joke of mine, but I don't care, because it's not really a joke.