OT: Iris Macadangdang, The Legend

Iris Macadangdang, gentleman. Iris. Macadangdang. I know two women named Iris from the University of Michigan. If I took a poll, I feel confident no one would care.

Iris Macadangdang is a saint. She is a political scientist who believes that politics really is science, so you know she has illogically unshakable conviction. Her hair reminds me of something awesome. It's black. Because I'm not racist, I'll say it reminds me of black people. I don't think she ever dyed her hair, so she's also natural. And that counts for something in MY pantry. Iris Macadangdang is also very nice. She added me on the facebook, spoke to me, and made up a fairly plausible reason for blocking me. Is there a chance she just left the facebook and didn't block me? Yes. More on miracles below.

Iris Macadangdang is more than a name. She is a thing like Band Aids and the University of Michigan. These are institutions so hallowed their brand name is the name. Got a cut? Get a Band Aid. Want a superlative education? Michigan. Hey buddy, could you suggest a fantastic woman? Iris Macadangdang.

I want you to say her name to yourself. Say it out loud. You will eventually yell it sweetly and mournfully. I know I just did. When I first heard her name, I couldn't stop hearing it wherever I went. I was ordering Iris Macadangdangs with cheese. I was revolving my Iris Macadangdang about the y-axis. I celebrated Iris Macadangdang on Mother's Day. I mowed the Iris Macadangdang, took out the Iris Macadangdang on garbage night, and LITERALLY Iris Macadangdanged while I watched a Michigan game.

Perhaps now I should disclose that I have never met Iris Macadangdang. I have never spoken to her in person. I seldom discuss her vastness without the cloak of anonymity. By God, I haven't even paid her the honor of stalking her. Gentleman, we all have regrets. Please do not judge me.

But I have shaken the hand of a man who possibly fornicated with Iris Macadangdang. He does not admit to what I must call "The Cataclysm." In fact, there is no evidence of this conquest whatsoever. But these denials come swiftly at the defense of his Jewish girlfriend, with whom I am convinced he is actually engaged but not telling anyone. Frankly, if there was ever a time to believe in miracles, it would be so with The Cataclysm.

I am the man who did not meet the man, but met the man who met the Macadangdang. I did not plant the Iris, but I met the gardener. Did I shake Sinatra's hand? No--but that still means something around here. So respect me.

And vote Macadangdang.