Raw, adjective: 5. crude in quality or character; not tempered or refined by art or taste

Are you as excited about what's happening tomorrow as I am? Tell me you know what I'm talking about.

What with all the press about this summer's long-awaited return of Mulder and Scully, the secret X-Philes in my life are coming out of the woodwork. I had no idea there were so many of us ostensibly normal and intelligent people who went loopy for David Duchovny in an ill-fitting suit carrying an FBI badge. The Truth is Out There, indeed, and it looks like a new X-Files movie ten whole years after the last one debuted.

David D was my regular Sunday night date for several big years in the late 90s. I'll always owe a piece of my heart to Mulder and Scully and their bizarre and bloody adventures with the Cigarette Smoking Man. It's been a long time and I honestly don't know if I'll remember much of anything from the series - black oil and aliens and implanted chips and what again about mythology? (Time for a DVD marathon, Heidi.) But I'm looking forward to catching the new flick nonetheless.

Rebecca Traister has a great ode to Scully over at Salon today. Though I'll always rest firmly in the Mulder camp, I've gotta agree with Traister's little love song. Especially the part about how she still has a little moment when the clock reads 10:13. Hilarious.

B, wish you were here to drool over David D together! Maybe in August, just for old times' sake.

Scully have I loved (Salon)


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