Dear Sisters and Brothers in St. Scully,
Don't you love it when you're right?
How long now have we Scullyists been saying that Gillian Anderson is THE best actress to grace the small screen in years? How many times has she amazed us with the range of emotions she can convey in a single look, a motion, a breath? How many awards has she won in the past two years now...back-to-back Screen Actors Guild awards... a Golden Globe...an Emmy???
Oh sweet, sweet, vindication! (Excuse me while I gloat.)
An Emmy for GA, an exciting fifth season around the corner, and a feature length film on the way... What more could a Phile want? (Well...there's *always* something we want, but you know what I mean.) With all this X-traordinary activity, I must say, I believe we have been dwelling in "the year of the 'X'." And call me the eternal optimist, but I have a very, very strong feeling that there's more X-citement yet to come.
So, in this month's "News for the OBSSEsed," we pause to muse over this new golden age we have encountered by celebrating GA's glorious victory at the Emmys; indulging in an OBSSE/GA fest in Vancouver, Canada (forgive the story length, friends); reading an on-the-spot Emmy report from our Rogue...uh...Kitchen Crew crew; debuting a wonderful new fanfic by Scullycentric fanfic author Patti Murphy; getting the latest advice from our own Dear Abby of the Abbey, Sister Autumn; and more, always more.
Until next time (when the season premiere will be upon us), take care, take it easy, and don't forget to light a candle for the Sainted One. And as always...keep the faith. ~=
Yours in St. Scully,
Sister Nancy (no clever sig)
AND THE WINNER IS...
On Sunday, September 14, the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences confirmed what we X-Philes have known for years: Gillian Anderson is the best actress working in television today.
All totaled, XF gained three Emmys this year. In addition to Anderson's award for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series, the crew at 1013 also picked up statues for Outstanding Art Direction for a Series and Outstanding Sound Editing for a Series.
Congratulations to Gillian and everyone at 1013!
Sister Danielle Dupre' and I have been accused of being "the only two people in the world who will fly cross-country to get together and do nothing." I admit, it's true. We can't help it - we like our couches, we like to talk, and we like to watch TV. So that's what we do ... a lot. But during Danielle's recent visit to LA, we dragged our lazy asses off the couch for a very important mission ... infiltrating the Emmy Awards.
Strapping on our Rogue combat boots, we headed for the Pasadena Civic Auditorium and deceived, inveigled, and obfuscated our way to a vantage point directly across the street from where the stars were arriving. I must confess that the blazing sun and smothering crowd resulted in some un-Scully-like sweating, um, glistening, on our part. But we overcame, secure in the knowledge that we would soon catch a glimpse of our winner-to-be.
And what a glimpse it was! Due to her short stature and the overabundance of limos, we did not spot her until she was almost upon the red carpet. (We hang our heads in shame.) But once our Gillian-radar kicked in, we took in the sight of her gorgeous dress and fabulous hair and promptly announced that Joan Rivers could ... well, I'm sure you can imagine the rest. Getting over our shock at being within 30 feet of our idol, we raised our cameras and snapped frantically as Gillian made her way to the announcer's tent. Unfortunately, the unmarked helicopters - obviously there for nefarious PUNK purposes - drowned out her answers to the inane questions. But we were witness to what is now the highlight of my life: Gillian turning and waving in response to our repeated screaming of her name.
After she was swallowed up by the throngs of photographers, we made our way out of the crowd (okay, okay ... we looked at David too, but very briefly.) and headed for my house to watch the ceremony. We whipped up a round of holy margaritas and downed them in quick succession while waiting for them to get through all those pesky other categories and get to the important one. As the time neared, we assumed the proper position: on our knees, mere inches away from the TV, hands clasped and chanting "Gillian Anderson, Gillian Anderson, Gillian Anderson." Obviously it worked, and the rest is history. We spent the rest of our vacation alternately bursting into spontaneous shouts of "She won!" and "We saw her!" Well, that and the requisite Gillian defending we were forced to do on the news group.
So Danielle and I take this moment to say: Loved the dress. Loved the speech. And most importantly, congratulations to Gillian on a well-deserved award!
When Sister Autumn first suggested to me that I join her and several other members of the Gillian Anderson Mailing List (GAML) for a Scully/GAML Fest in Vancouver, Canada, I thought to myself (to paraphrase dear Saint Scully): "Autumn, you're nuts!" I've got a busy job, a husband, two small children, and no time for further flights of fancy outside of the time I already dedicate to XF via this web site and my ATX activities. Yet our dear sister--the Persuasive One--pressed on. Weeks went by until finally she brought out the big gun. In an innocuous looking e-mail she sent to me earlier this summer she wrote, "You know, we're going to be staying in SCULLY'S APARTMENT in Vancouver....We have a whole other bedroom available....I wonder who we'll get to stay with us???"
She's harsh, I tell you. Harsh.
Of course, that cinched it. And suddenly, I was off to the Holy Land where they film The X-Files to stay with 10 people who, at the time, I had never met, knowing only that they were XF fans and shared a soft spot for our Saint.
So with that introduction, I present to you (as promised) a record of our pilgrimage to the Holy City. Thanks to all those who I met on this trip and who made this adventure tons of fun: Sister Autumn T for nagging me into going; Sister Mary Nancy for making me feel at home; Sister Jas for having my sense of humor; Deb for her conversation and insight; Mica, Robin, and MJ for their hospitality in allowing me to crash their Fest; Patsy for being a trooper; Cyn for reaching out; and Geoff for putting up with all of us. But most of all, I need to thank my husband Jim who said, "Don't worry about it. Just go," and took care of things on the homefront. I love you, hon.(Photo below: GAML/Scully Fest Members. Bottom row, left to right: Mica, MJ, (Mary) Nancy, Patsy, Nancy (no clever sig). Top row, left to right: Robin, Deb, Jas, Autumn. Geoff and Cyn aren't pictured.)
September 11, 1997: Day 1
Actually, it was Day 2 for the GAML-festers but Day 1 for me. Autumn and company had arrived in Vancouver on September 10 and had already put in a full day of X-Fileish behavior, having tried to scam their way (unsuccessfully) onto the 1013 lot, eating lunch where Skinner got shot, visiting the Seymour Demonstration Forest and Rice Lake from "One Breath" and "Clyde Bruckman," and finding the abandoned building that had housed Eugene Tooms' little sticky paper nest ("Mulder...I think it's bile.").
While they had spent the day cruising, I had spent it flying. A four-hour flight from Austin, Texas to Vancouver, Canada gives one lots of time to think. And I must admit, as excited as I was, I was having second thoughts: What if I don't like them? What if they don't like me? It was akin to going on a massive blind date, and just as anxiety-ridden. But it was exciting too. Definitely risky. And in the end, I would conclude it was worth it.
When I arrived in Vancouver, Sister Autumn and Sister Mary Nancy were there to greet me. Fortunately, they had come to Austin to visit a few weeks before, and after an entire day together, we'd already figured out that we got along just fine. Autumn, who somehow seems to know me without knowing me, knew what I was going to ask before I even opened my mouth: "Nope, we haven't met them. Haven't seen any filming yet. In fact, it looks like they're going to be filming on the lot and not on location."
It was no secret that I harbored a hope...small though it might be...to actually meet GA or David Duchovny (DD). Most of all, I wanted to watch them work on location. Looks like that was not going to happen. Oh well, I wasn't going to let that depress me. Vancouver offered lots, from what I had read, to entice me, so I was going to enjoy this fair city whether or not I was able to pay homage in person to our saint or not.
So we piled in the rent car and headed off to our guest suite. The first thing that struck me about the city was the water. There was lots of it--everywhere it seemed. The mountains were close enough to touch. And people were walking as much as they were driving. Guess that's one of the differences between Vancouver and Austin. In mid-September in Austin, Texas it's 97 degrees and humid. Everybody's in their office, car, or house just trying to breathe and not to sweat. In Vancouver, in the city, people walked. It was refreshing.
By the time we reached the Pendrell Suites at 1419 Pendrell St. (Yep, Agent Doof), I was excited. As we turned down the street, I could just see the red brick apartment house where I was going to stay that doubled as the exterior to St. Scully's house. A smile broke across my face. St. Scully's apartment!!!! I could picture the Sainted One now walking up the steps, A.D. Skinner telling her to "get in the car," and of course, poor Melissa the Mysterious (all bow our heads in silent prayer....) mounting the steps for the very last time...sigh. In short, I was tingly. The suite itself was just short of palatial--three bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen, living room, and dining room...beautiful hardwood floors. I began to wonder just how I had lucked into this. Sister Autumn and Sister Mary Nancy and I were going to share the suite on the third floor, with a couple folks bunking in to the third bedroom for the night. The rest of the crew was sharing a suite below us. We went down to meet them, and my nerves jumbled up again. I opened the door and said, "Hello, how are you? WHO are you???" After pizza, Scullyritas (aka strawberry margaritas), and a few XF videos ("Small Potatoes" among them), all was right with the world. And guess what? My new found friends didn't bite. (Photo below, from left to right, Sisters Nancy (no clever sig), Autumn, and Jas at the Vancouver Aquarium.)
September 12, Day 2:
I guess the Scullyritas must have set in, because we definitely got a leisurely start. I caught up with everybody downstairs, and while we chatted, laughed, and coffeed the morning away, the phone rang. I was nearest, so I grabbed it.
"Hello," the caller said. "Is Gillian there?"
At this point, my eyes must have grown extremely wide because most of the folks standing in the kitchen stopped and looked at me. Gillian...Gillian...now where have I heard that name before?? Is this a joke? I thought, or did Cyn's note (which she dropped off at the studios the day before) telling GA we were in town actually work? I swallowed, collected my thoughts, and answered in the best, most nonchalant manner I could muster.
"Uh...no, she's not here, should she be?"
Silence. Then the woman, who didn't sound at all like she was playing a cruel trick on us, responded with, "Well, I don't know. I'm looking for Gillian Moore. I need to talk to her about her insurance."
Oh, wrong number.
It was, however, a strange coincidence. As Agent Mulder would say, "If coincidences are just coincidences, then why do they feel so contrived?" (Forgive me St. Scully, for I have quoted that "Damn Good-Looking Man"...uh...I mean "Punk.")
After recovering from the Gillian False Alarm, we formulated a plan: Some of us would stalk...I mean..."actively pursue" North Shore Studios where they film XF. The rest of us (that includes me), would explore the city and check out some of the XF filming locations of episodes passed. Being good X-Philes, we made sure each group had a cell phone so that we could call each other should any Scully Spotting occur.
Now, before I go on, some of you are probably wondering just how in the heck we found or planned to find XF filming locations of episodes passed. Were we exceptionally gifted? (Well, that's a given.) Were we blessed with Psychic!Scully abilities? Nah. The truth is Sister Autumn had a book called, Reel Vancouver by Ken MacIntyre, which lists all of the location shooting that has taken place for the first three seasons of XF and other films and TV series made in Vancouver. If you ever go, make sure you GET THE BOOK! Since I mostly functioned as "Book Girl" during the trip (in other words, I looked up locations), I must say, only once did it steer us wrong. It was invaluable to our geeky fun. (Photo below, Mary Nancy, Deb, Jas, and Autumn search for Mulder in the red-painted quarry used in "Anasazi".)
Okay, so map and BOOK in hand, we traversed the streets of Vancouver, through Chinatown ("Hell Money" territory) , passed the Riverview Hospital (where they shot "Excelsis Dei" and other hospital/prison scenes), and onward to "the red rock quarry." You know which one I mean, the famous granite quarry that the XF crew painted red to look like the deserts of New Mexico for the season cliffhanger, "Anasazi" and the season three opener, "The Blessing Way." After an extremely scenic but unmapped drive through the forest (It's always a nice trip to the forest), we found IT! Unfortunately, next to IT was a big sign that read something like: "Keep Out! Rock Quarry. Steep cliffs. NO TRESPASSING!"
"Hmm..." I muttered to Sister Autumn. "The one thing my husband told me not to do on this trip was to get arrested."
"Yeah," Sis A said, "But he didn't say anything about trespassing."
So with that SRE (Scully Rationale Explanation), we forged ahead, right past the "keep out" sign and on to the quarry. After a short, but anxious drive, where we were eyed by a caretakerish looking man with a big dog, we found it. There it was! Rocks all painted red in the middle of a forest, with a beautiful view of water and trees all the way around it. We squealed (Well, some of us did.) with delight. I insisted on having my picture taken against the rocks yelling, "Mulder!!" and asked the others to do likewise (See photo above.). We all took some painted rocks for souvenirs and made sure we brought extras back to share with the rest of the gang.
At this point, I feel that I must digress and tell you a little bit about myself...
I am a geek.
Unfortunately, I think I always have been. It's just that in the past couple of years, with my interest in XF, my geekiness has come out of the Geek Closest, so to speak. I am an unabashed fandom fan. I love the conventions. I have a Star Trek uniform in the back of my closet I made for a costume contest in college (and no, I don't "dress up" for my husband). I collect Star Wars action figures. I have an XF web site. As my friend Jen said recently to my husband about my fandomish ways, "She's crossed over to the dark side."
Anyway, you have to know this about me to appreciate how thrilled I was to be in a red-painted rock quarry in Vancouver. What's even more frightening is that the other five people who were with me were just as excited. The fun thing about our trip to Vancouver was that, while we did touristy things, most of them had an XF edge to them. It's hard for them not to. So much of the city is shown in the show, that you're bound to run into places where XF was shot, even if you aren't looking for them. So as I told one of my colleagues when I returned, "We were on an XF trip....we just were lucky enough to have a touristy facade."
Okay, back to the story.
So, we left the rock quarry (after being chased by dogs...), toured a few other XF sites, and returned home to St. Scully's apartment (I just love saying that) with rocks in hand. Our compadres had had no luck staking out the studio, but were planning to go back at 4 a.m. to try once more. After a brief rest, a group of us decided to head down to historic Gastown for dinner and a little shopping. As we neared the area, we noticed an unusual group of trucks...cables...streets being blocked off....
OH MY GOD!!!! We found FILMING!!!!
Could it be? Could it possibly be? Could XF be filming RIGHT IN FRONT OF US??? Then we noticed the signs on the back of the little folded up director chairs: MILLENNIUM.
Now, you who know me or are familiar with my news group posts will appreciate, as Sister Autumn said, the irony of us Scullyists on a hunt for XF and finding...Millennium. To say the least, I'm not a big fan of the show, despite the fact that it was created by XF creator Chris Carter.
Well, fan or not, we decided to watch as they dressed a downtown Vancouver street to look like New York City and prepared to run a group of bison down the asphalt. It was interesting for those of us who don't get to see these things very often, and the crew, I must say, was exceptionally nice. One guy even let me take a picture of the back of his shirt (See photo at left above.) promising us a "new" Millennium this year. We'll see. My opinion of the show is more or less summed up in the object I found on their location set (See photo at right.). How appropriate, don't you think?
September 13, Day 3:
No leisurely start for us today, today we had a plan.
Up early and out the door, we started first at Stanley Park to take a tour of the park and totem polls and to visit the Vancouver Aquarium. While waiting for the doors to open, we threw pennies in the wishing well. I suggested that we wish for Gillian to visit the aquarium that day with her daughter, Piper. Oh well, one can wish....
The Aquarium itself was marvelous. The beluga whales were an exceptional treat. We all got a splendid photo of one of the caretakers petting a killer whale. Well...it *looked* like he was petting him. Turned out he was taking a urine sample. As they say, "too much information."
After Stanley Park we headed for Grouse Mountain and the skyride to the top of the mountain. This is a perfect example of an XF thing to do with a wonderful touristy facade. You see, while providing a nice ride and a very scenic panorama of the city, the skyride is also famous in XF lore for being "Skyland Mountain," where Mulder battled, unsuccessfully, to rescue St. Scully from the clutches of Duane Barry in the episode, "Ascension." (See photo at left above.)
After our sky ride (and an unsuccessful hunt for a commemorative skyride spoon), we headed up the beautiful "Sea to Sky" British Columbia coastline for the town of Britannia Beach to visit the British Columbia Museum of Mining where "Paper Clip" was filmed and St. Scully discovered "lots and LOTS of files." On our way, we took an unfortunate wrong turn and almost ended up on an unexpected ferry ride to Bowen Island. Pleading our ignorance (and seeing no way out of getting on board) Sister Autumn, our pilot, explained to the nice ferry lady that we had made a terrible mistake. "Are you Americans?" the nice ferry lady inquired gently. Hey, it showed! Anyway, she helped us exit, albeit ungracefully, and the phrase, "Welcome Aboard!" took on a whole new significance for the rest of the trip.
Finally, after a bit of a drive, we approached Britannia Beach and the mine. There it was!!! Just like in "Paper Clip." We squealed again with delight and got out to look around. By this time, our friends, who had been resting from their Studio Stakeout the night before, joined us and we all donned miners' caps and headed for the tour. The tour took us into the mine, which was quite a treat, since it was easy to imagine so many of the scenes from XF being shot here. At one point our tour guide, a nice young woman named Amy who didn't look a bit like a real miner but did have the appropriate smudges, informed us that dynamite sticks are now wrapped in yellow rather than red because they discovered that "many men are red/green colorblind." Ha! I'm sure Amy had no idea why 10 people suddenly burst into spontaneous laughter at that little factoid, but we Philes know that in the episode "Wetwired" it was established that Mulder is red/green colorblind. Again, another funny coincidence. (Photo below, Sisters Jas and Autumn find out what Mulder *really* saw when he exited the mine!)
After riding through the mine and viewing the appropriate loud mining instruments, we exited the mine shaft. Sister Autumn told me to turn around, and that's when we figured out we were standing in the spot where Mulder and Scully had run out of the mine and where Mulder had seen the UFO hovering over the horizon. By this time, our tour guide, Amy, was halfway down the mountain, but the 10 of us just stood there taking campy photos of us pretending to run out of the mine and to be cowering from the light of a UFO (See photo at left.). Finally, we caught up with Amy. I felt so bad about our geeky behavior that I thought up a few relevant mining questions to ask the poor girl. We ended our trip to the mine with a tour of the same building where Scully and Mulder entered the caverns, trying to desperately remember the formula for Napier's Constant, and then taking photos of ourselves posed as the Elders in front of the mining company (See photo above). In short, it was a blast!
That evening was spent drinking more Scullyritas, viewing GA's Emmy submission, "Memento Mori," and saying a little prayer that GA would win the Emmy for Lead Actress in a drama the very next day.
September 14, Day 4:
We awoke to an overcast, slightly rainy Vancouver day. Our first stop was the Seabus Terminal, where the "angel of stone" from the sacred Scully episode, "Beyond the Sea" resides. We'd seen the statue in passing a couple of evenings before and had decided to come back so that we could take a photo of moi, the Rev. Ma, praying in front of it. (The things I do to amuse the readers of this newsletter!!!! See photo at left.) Fortunately, Sister Jas was kind enough to join me as we knelt in front of the Holy Site for the shot while a busload of tourists observed us from behind. (Hey, I think I got off lucky. Geoff had suggested tying me up and throwing me in the trunk of a car so that we could *really* reenact "Ascension" on the way to Grouse Mountain. Whew!)
After some more shopping in Gastown (I kind of like to shop....), a few photos of the Niagra Hotel (also from "Beyond the Sea"), we headed over to Granville Island for lunch. After lunch, we piled into the cars and made our way to the Museum of Anthropology on the University of British Columbia campus. What a wonderful place! I'm personally fascinated by anthropology and Native American studies, so this visit struck a chord with me. I've never seen such a wonderful collection of artifacts from this part of the world. Of course, even here, we had to add our own little XF touch. (See photo at right below.)
After the museum, we split into two groups. Some of us wanted to go back and rest, the rest of us wanted to shop. (I bet you can guess which group I was in, can't you?) After our shopping extravaganza was through, we headed back for Pendrell Street to prepare for *the big night*...EMMY NIGHT! We'd decided to eat at "home" as it were, so a couple of the gang went out to buy groceries. The rest of us put on our lucky shirts, caps, panties....I donned my "Proud to Be OBSSE" t-shirt and headed downstairs. While MJ, Cyn, and Nancy (Sister Mary Nancy, that is) prepared dinner, the rest of us provided a blow-by-blow update of the Emmy award ceremony. We also, appropriately, taped an "X" in the front room window and shined a light behind it for good luck. Our efforts were appreciated by at least one passerby who took photos of the "X" as he/she drove down the street.
With spaghetti dinners on our laps and margaritas and wine in hand, we watched and grew more and more anxious as the moment of truth arrived. When it was time to announce the nominees for lead actress in a drama, I started a mental, "Gillian...Gillian...Gillian" chant. Then it was time for the envelope. We all unconsciously moved toward the TV, held our breaths, and prayed....
"And the winner is...Gillian Anderson."
You should have heard the screams! Eleven people jumped to their feet, screamed, hugged, and basically rocked Vancouver with the amount of noise we created. I was sad to see DD lose and the show itself, but I must admit, I didn't expect them to win. I did, however, expect GA to win, and had she not, I would have been one unhappy camper. As it was, we were on top of the world. We were in the Mecca of Vancouver to watch Gillian win her first Emmy, and we were together and having fun. What a trip!
September 15, Day 5, The Last Day:
My plane was scheduled to depart at 9 a.m., but since I was riding with Sister Autumn and Sister Mary Nancy who were leaving earlier, I had to rise and shine quite early too. We packed. Got ready. Said our goodbye's to Scully's House and the wonderful people we had got to know while in it, and headed back to our respective cities around the world: Austin, Denver, Washington, D.C., Hong Kong, LA, Orlando, etc.
The trip, in all of our books, was a success. Had I known what a wonderful time I was going to have, I would have let Sister Autumn talk me into going months ago. As it was, I got to see a beautiful city, got to know some wonderful people, made some lasting friendships, and got to be silly for a little while longer in my life.
In the long run, we all may forget The X-Files, the OBSSE, and even St. Scully (although that one is hard to imagine!). What will remain, I am convinced, is the friendships that we've made. Naysayers can criticize the Internet and fandom all they want, but the fact is that the community spirit that they foster and the connections that they create where connections would have been hard-pressed to form before are hard to ignore or to speak ill of. When XF is done and gone, it will have left more than just a pop icon in my memory, it will have left me with life-long friends, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Greetings Brothers and Sisters,
Your Dear Abby of the Abbey here once again to answer all those plaguing questions that, well, plague you on your path to enlightenment in all things Scully. This last long month will be the hardest dear friends, so when trouble crosses your mind or confusion rules your waking moments, write to me at Ask Autumn, and I'll do my best to make sure that the troubled ones are confused and the confused ones are in trouble. Or something like that. There's a theme in this month's letters, Brothers and Sisters, and I think we can all see just how much good Our Saint has done (well, with the exception of Sister La).
Dear Sister Autumn,
I have come to you with a strange question, and I come only because I won't be able to hear your laughter as you read this.
My female parental unit was looking through my room and happened upon my stash of X-Files related magazines, which must be kept hidden to avoid desecration by familial unit members. Now my Scully-to-Mulder picture ratio is about 5 to 1, at least. So she questioned me about my interest in Scully, very indirectly implying... that I am a *lesbian*!!!!! Now Sister Autumn, I have no problem with gay people, whatever floats your boat you know. But I am *quite* straight. I just don't know whether to be outraged or to crack up!
Seeking your wise counsel,
Sister Chupacabra (Can't I just worship in peace?!)
You are in trouble! Whatever provoked you to choose your name from an episode as lame as "El Mundo Gira"? It's quite possible all your problems stem from this unfortunate moniker! That was, by the way, the only thing about your plea for guidance that made me laugh.
About that other little thing you wrote about, I learned something pretty early on about St. Scully - her appeal transcends sexuality. OBSSE members come from all walks of life, gay and straight, but there is that special something about St. Scully that appeals to all (heck, I even have gay male friends who want her!). This St. Scully magic has even prompted the formation of a new group on the net called SWILS (Straight Women In Love with Scully). So why this mass adoration from fans male and female, homo and hetero? It's simple really - her beauty comes from within as much as without.
OK, I'm going to get serious for a bit here - gentle readers please do not be frightened of this - the Sister Autumn you know and tolerate will be back in a second. One of the sad things about popular culture is that there are woefully few heroines - true role models for women. The media is saturated with male heroic figures, but for we women, our heroes - the ones we can relate to and look up to - are unfortunately few and far between. So when you find one - and dear friends we have - you need to hang on to them for dear life. St. Scully tells us, and most importantly the young women amongst us, that women are powerful, and they can do anything and be anything. There are no limits - you can go into science, medicine, or law enforcement (or all three!) and be treated with respect and admiration. No matter how old you are you never stop looking for role models, for women who inspire.
Yes, we can admire her physical beauty. Yes, some folks find her sexually attractive, but I think that all of us are attracted to the *spirit* of St. Scully. We are attracted to the characteristics she displays - loyalty, honesty, compassion, intelligence, determination, kindness - we have found ourselves a hero. I, for one, am proud of you (well, except for that name thing) and all of the other young women of the OBSSE that instead of plastering their walls with photos of Hanson or whoever the teen heartthrob of the second is realize that there is more to life than a good looking guy with a guitar.
If your mother can't grasp these points, you can always do the obvious just to allay her concerns. Make a big show at some point of watching one of those scantily clad PUNK episodes sometime in her presence (you know like "Duane Barry" or "Fire") and at the appropriate time mutter loudly to yourself, "He's a damn good looking man" or "Speedo!Mulder - yummy" - then as soon as she turns her back, put "Memento Mori" back in and bask in all things Scully.
Dear Sister Autumn,
As I enter into my sophomore year of high school, I find myself wondering how I'll ever survive biology for three out of every four days; I who could not dissect a formaldehyde-soaked worm in the seventh grade. Each time the question arises in my mind, I see myself having more clinical detachment than possible for a girl of 15 years. All feelings of doubt and apprehension leave me, and I feel an overwhelming sense of confidence and support. It's like I am being blessed by Saint Scully Herself telling me that I can take anything the teacher puts in front of me, and that, if need be, She will lend me the strength of Her wisdom and faith in science. I look at how I've tried to explain the feeling, but no amount of words could ever capture it. If you can tell me whether I've been touched or just had a touch too much sun, please tell me as soon as possible. I need to know if I've gone psycho.
A teen with a troubled mind,
You see, this is exactly what I was talking about in the previous letter! I, for one, would say you've been blessed by the Blessed One. I still shudder at my memories of those forced dissections all those years ago - the fetal pig scarred me for life and made me think for years that all livers were blue. Perhaps it is those repeated viewings of Autopsy!Scully, with her variety of fetching multi-colored head coverings and glasses, poking intestines, power-tooling through skulls, and weighing stomachs with a smile that has given you strength. I say revel in your new found confidence - the only way the Saint has graced me is the occasional nosebleed Scullymata. Personally, I think you got the better deal.
Dear Sister Autumn,
I'm writing to you because I've been stricken with a serious condition, and I am wondering if any other members of the Order have been similarly afflicted. It all started when FX began showing a nightly episode of The X-Files. At first it was thrilling to be able to relive moments in the life of our Saint on a nightly basis, but I began to notice a change in my vocabulary...
Ah, hell, I might as well confess.... I can't stop swearing! At first it wasn't *too* bad. An occasional "Cut the crap" to my significant other or a "What the hell is that?" to a friend. But recently it's gotten much worse. I found myself telling my boss I hoped he fell off the corporate ladder and "landed on his ass" and even screamed "You bastard!" at the super market bagboy for folding my copy of US.
Sister Autumn, help me, damn it! I don't know what to do. My greatest fear is that I won't be able to find a cure before the movie comes out and then I'll REALLY be f***ed!
I await your advise,
Damnit Sister La, that is not my job. Oh wait, it is. Hmm. I don't know what the hell came over me. Actually, I think I do. We at OBSSE headquarters have been tracking this phenomena since August 19th, when nightly showings of The X-Files compounded with this unnaturally long wait for the season premiere created what we have called the "FX You!" effect.
You see, due to our nature, Scullyists already have a strong and powerful connection to the Sainted One, and now, as rewatching episodes late at night has become a daily ritual we've become entranced - not so unlike St. Scully in "Wetwired". The problem is that St. Scully is a bit of a "sailor" on occasion when it comes to her vocabulary, and this is what is becoming ingrained in the minds of "FX You!" sufferers. You are right to worry about the movie, as luckily, the constraints of network television have left our Saint only mouthing or muttering under her breath even more colorful language. If we don't get this under control, come next June we could have a whole abbey full of wimple-wearing and swearing Sisters and Brothers!
The only way through this is intense concentration. Remember Our Saint in her polite moments - like when she calls an alien bounty hunter "sir" right before he mows her over - and when you find yourself about to utter a profanity, do your best to substitute a more genteel word. After all, St. Scully uses her swearing to great effect - not just all the time.
By the way, if someone mangled my "Us" magazine, I'd do more than call that bagboy a bastar. I'd be letting him choose which he'd like shoved up his, um, posterior - paper or plastic.
Dear Sister Autumn,
OK, I am a shy person, right? But since I saw my first XF episode ("Unruhe," if anyone was wondering), I've spoken up more in my classes, especially science. St. Scully knows how, but I can get every single detail of physics and repeat them like St. Scully. Completely deadpan, no idea that 99.9 percent of my school has no idea what I'm talking about. Inertia? Simple, it's...OK, OK....no long-winded explanations!
Anyway, the way I get through my homework is this: the whole wall in front of my desk is a collage of St. Scully. I stare at the boat scene in "One Breath" til my eyes hurt and repeat to myself, "Scully would do this to the max, never give up!" so I don't. My grades have shot up!
So, now that I've explained it, here are my 3 questions:
1) Is it healthy to depend on St. Scully too
much like that?
2) Do you need anyone to explain complex scientific SREs to the Order? 'Cause I can do that....
3) St. Scully "kicketh much butt," in my opinion. I always yell, "PUNK! PUNK!" and several obscenities New Yorkers are famous for when Mulder tries to do "heroic," albeit stupid things, such as saving St. Scully from places where she can easily get out of. What does that make me? A "Rogue" (sorry, I mean "Kitchen Crew")?
May the sacred blessings of St. Scully be upon
Sister Maria "Shinjitsu-wa soko ni aru." (the truth is out there in Japanese)
Sister Maria (who, you might note, Sister Chupacabra, has a wonderful reason for liking "El Mundo Gira" as she can imagine St. Scully is singing just to her),
1) Absolutely not! St. Scully would be proud of the way you've applied yourself with her guidance to your studies! The important thing is you are getting good grades through hard work. No one else needs to know you are thinking about a half-dead busty woman with limp hair in a boat to do so. In fact, you might want to keep that our little secret, OK?
2) I'm sure you can explain SREs very well. Unfortunately, in our Order that is not a unique skill as we all strive to be like our Saint. If you listen carefully to the conversations in the Sanctuary, you'll hear many spirited debates on exactly what temperature causes howlers to appear on film or how much milk one must drink to cause calcium deposit fangs - myself I think it has to be at least 2 percent milk, but that's a whole different debate.
3) Well, thinking Scully kicks butt or Mulder is a PUNK doesn't automatically make one a small potato peeler as that covers most OBSSE members. Those kitchen folks are a little more, uh, forceful in the way they worship from the average abbey member. Or so I've heard.
Lastly, Brothers and Sisters, I received this letter about last month's missive regarding the use of the phrase, "I'm fine". Sister Em has quite the little project going. I post it here for informational purposes:
Dear Sister Autumn,
Upon reading your column in the September Issue, I was happy to see someone asking about the Blessed One's use of the phrase, "I'm fine." This has always been a subject of interest to me and my fellow OBSSErs and X-Philes. If you will go to Sister Em's site,you will see the beginning of her gargantuan undertaking: to catalogue every use of the phrase, "I'm fine" by St. Scully. I pass this information along to enlighten the group.
Hoping that Sister Em won't be mad at me,
Sister Melissa R., also known as the one from Delaware.
Last month we asked OBSSE members to tell us the Scully action figure they'd most like to see under the Christmas tree this December. The answers, of course, were as diverse as our members and even more funny. All I can say is, "You better move over Luke Skywalker; KickAss!Scully is on the way!"
From OBSSE Member Mel
"I want Pusher!Scully with that crisp, business-like suit and Kevlar vest. When you squeeze her sainted tummy, a single tear rolls down her face. When you push the button on her back, she bangs her hand on the table and yells, "Damn you! You bastard!"
From Sister Pam:
"DEFINITELY Swat!Scully with Kevlar vest and suitable firepower. (I'm a Kitchen Crew member, can't you tell?) I'd like to see it in the boxed set with In Jeopardy!Mulder, complete with ropes for his wrists and, MOST importantly, a gag." (Although, if they came out with a Non-Homicidal!Ed, maybe I'd be interested in a Casual!Scully (with tattoo)."
From Sister Glasses:
"OneUp!Scully, complete with cell phone, the ultimate videotape proving that Roswell was a fake, and Skinner's approval of her own desk and office."
From Brother Andrew:
"Spandex!Scully. Surely that fine figure is the result of a grueling workout regime?"
From Sister WisDana:
"Talking!Scully. Says three exciting phrases: 1) "Mulder, it's me;" 2) "Mulder, you're crazy!"; and "I'm fine." Includes gold cross necklace and realistic-sounding cellphone."
From OBSSE Member aoiryu:
"Never Again!Scully, complete with temporary ouroborus tattoos for you and your friends. Sorry, Ed, the Hard Eight Lounge play set and the Scully Ford Taurus not included."
From Sister J.:
"Casual!Scully action figure, but only if it comes with Grey T-Shirt and Black Leather Jacket!Mulder. Accessories needed? Wine glasses, CD player playing some Al Green, and a pull-out sofa. I ain't waiting for the XF movie anymore; I'll create my own "situation" with my new action figures!"
From Sister Mary Nancy:
"Forest Action!Scully--When darkness falls, our Special Agent Scully is always prepared in her X-small parka, hiking boots, and Kelty for her backpack. Comes with a three-day supply of Avon Skin-So-Soft for those nasty nighttime insects. Disabled!Jeep sold separately."
From Sister Em:
"I would have to go with the the Talking Scully Rationale Explanation (SRE)!Scully doll. Push the button on the back of her neck, and she'll try to convince you (or your Talking Bizarre Theory!Mulder doll) that you're wrong, wrong, wrong. The SRE!Scully doll is programmed to combine words together to form thousands of intelligent, logical, rational opinions. For extra fun, I'd go with the Talking SRE!Scully doll with the special Action!Hand, so she can push Bizarre Theory!Mulder around a little if...when...he ticks her off."
From Sister Dana:
"She Blinded Me with Science!Scully. Accessories include: White lab coat, eyeglasses, stethoscope, reflex knee knocker, large hypodermic needle, rubber gloves, test tubes, microscope, and Nurse!Mulder with skirt outfit or pantsuit and big, white nurse shoes."
From Sister Lisa G.:
"Autopsy Fun!Scully. She's a great role model to encourage girls to get into science! Comes with a little plastic chimpanzee corpse complete with removable plastic organs and a real scalpel that you can play with or use to dismember your Punk!Mulder doll."
From Brother Plantagenet:
"I'd love to get a Just Climbed Through An AC Vent To Save Mulder's Sorry Hide!Scully with mussed red hair clinging in all weird angles and places, slightly tattered clothes, enraged eyes, cell phone to call for backup (if needed), and of course, a Baretta nine-millimeter handgun ready to blow some perp's head off! (Extremely Grateful!Mulder figure sold separately.)"
From Sister Taya:
Science!Scully, in lab coat and goggles (and with a spare prophylactic). Comes with all lab equipment required to determine whether it really *was* monkey pee."
"Contemplative!Scully of The Rock, in jeans, sweater, and Good Night, Slicker Lipstick. The accessory, of course, would be Queequeg (with removable head) and that friggin' retracto leash."
From Sister Lens-of-Science:
"Commuter!Scully. Comes complete with a business suit, glasses, laptop, cell (naturally) and optional gap pocket T with leggings. Perfect for use on Air X-Files (a recycled Barbie 747). Fill the drink cart with booze and simulate your own turbulence!"
From Sister L.A. LeCouter:
"I want to be Speedracer!Scully...able to get around any annoying obstacles, such as nasty little time differences where my partner, who has ditched me (once again) is in trouble (naturally) a gazillion miles away, calls me at 7 a.m. to tell me so, and yet I STILL can get to him in less than 1.5 hours, even though I have to get dressed, pack a small bag, drive to the airport, hop a flight, rent a car, and find my way to wherever the hell he is! We should ALL genuflect when we see St. Scully accomplish this feat!"
From Brother Colin:
OBSSE!Scully, of course. She could wear the funky black gown, a lovely wimple, black boxers, combat boots (a nod to the Rogue...er...Kitchen Crew), and her very own margarita!"
You really can't love St. Scully without loving her SREs (Scully Rationale Explanations). After all, only divine inspiration can explain some of the wild...uh...I mean wholly logical and sensible theories St. Scully dreams up to explain away the paranormal phenomenon she sometimes encounters. This month, we'd like to find out what your personal favorite SRE is, or, if you'd rather, tell us an SRE that you would like to hear her say. Will it be, "old film placed too close to a space heater surely explains why a woman would look like she was screaming in her passport photo?" Or do you prefer, "excessive embalming fluid can sometimes cause a coffin to spontaneously combust?" You make the call!
Welcome to this month's selections of good Scullycentric fanfic designed to help tide you over until November. I hope you enjoy these authors and stories, and once again, if you have any recommendations for stories with a strong and interesting Scully voice, please send them on to me at email@example.com
Patti's fanfic will always hold a special place in my heart as her wonderful story "A Little Knowledge" was one of the first good Scully pieces I read. It was this story that, way back when I discovered this special art form, really hooked me. She was one of the early writers to get Our Saint "just right" in my mind. I've enjoyed everything she's written, but I'd also like to make special note of one of her more recent pieces "The Ghost of Christopher Robin" for those of you who crave a good strong X-File type story.
Patti has graciously allowed us to debut her latest story here at the Sanctuary. (I told you she was a good Scullyist.) So please enjoy an OBSSE exclusive, "Twilight," which immediately follows this column.
Rivka is an interesting writer. Her pieces are without exception very well written and usually have a very dark edge to them. She first came to my attention with her "Folly" series, which starts out with Scully getting a bit of a life and ends up as a complex and disturbing angst-fest. Her story "Fugue" ends with one of the more frightening character moments for Scully I've ever read. It is, however, her latest story "Acadia" that is so new it was not on Gossamer last time I checked that really sealed her place in this column. It's an X-File that deals deftly with Scully's cancer and her complex and not always cheery relationship with the punk-like one. Watch for it!
My last recommendation is a bit controversial and is definitely not for our younger brothers and sisters. This one is NC-17. I must admit that I am usually not a fan of the fanfic slash genre - it just doesn't ring true for the characters I see when I watch the show. So I was very surprised when I read Deejay's first story "The Road Not Taken" and found that I was able to believe the characters and circumstances. This isn't just a sex piece, it is a complete story that follows Scully on a vacation where she runs into trouble and into a few surprises. This story has two sequels I recommend as well, "Snapshots" and "Crossroads". Even if this isn't your usual cup of tea, I think you'll be surprised by this wonderful series.
Until next month - happy reading!
Scully walked up and down the asphalt, slowly, without purpose, stretching her legs, her back, thankful to be out of the car even for a few minutes. The Mobil sign at the gas station where Mulder had pulled off seemed to hang in the twilight sky above them, like some sort of lighthouse beacon, casting its beam out into the fading light on the interstate. She was stiff from a long day of riding the highways, following up dead-end leads. She could feel a headache coming on.
The thought triggered the slightest ripple of panic before she could clamp it down, extinguish it. Every headache, every wave of fatigue sent her heart momentarily thudding against her breast now. Such awareness of her body, now. Such exquisite, terrible consciousness of every cell, every breath, every heartbeat.
She made herself keep moving, focused on the familiar sight of Mulder, fumbling with the gas cap, looking out of place at the pumps in his expensive suit and coat. She walked and turned, counting steps, making herself feel normal. Calm.
Sometimes, she actually managed to forget. The suffocating weight was just lifted away as if by some divine hand, and she actually forgot for a moment that she was dying.
When it came back to her, it was always worse, the fear suddenly forcing the air of her lungs, leaving her feeling like she was hovering for a moment between life and death. A haunting taste of what was to come.
She made herself walk some more and thought about getting a bottle of water to wash away the bitter taste of the last cup of coffee that Mulder had bought them on the road. She walked up and down, letting the thoughts run out of her head, listening to the cars skim by on the interstate. She pulled in long, sweet breaths of evening air and worked the kink out of her neck with one hand. The sky was a shade darker than azure, the first bold star just appearing on the horizon. To the west, the last of the day was still glowing yellow and orange, not yet ready to succumb to night.
She thought again about some water, then decided not to bother, mostly to avoid the glare of the little convenience store. She could hear that Mulder was finishing up at the pumps, hooking the nozzle back into its holder, screwing the gas cap back into place.
She turned on her heels, hands deep in her trenchcoat.
"Do you want anything?" He motioned to the starkly lit store.
"Some water would be good," she said.
He nodded and set off across the gas islands.
She watched him go, then resumed walking up and down, past a line of cars waiting for morning and a mechanic to repair them. They sat there sadly, like huge hulks of ships, biding their time until they could be launched back into the water from dry dock.
She turned again, lazily, starting her little walk back up the asphalt and saw Mulder in the store, the fluorescent beams shooting off the darkness of his hair, his coat. He stood out in the antiseptically lit little room, like a black stripe of strength, as if he wore some sort of shield that made the harsh light bounce away.
Scully watched him as she walked, looking at the back of his head, but remembering his eyes, imagining the exact shade of each expression. There was a shadow there these past months that she'd only glimpsed before. A weariness, an ache that seeped into his eyes every time he looked at her. She wondered if he was even aware of it. It didn't matter, it was there, lurking just behind his every conscious thought, pushing through to the surface so often lately, pulling another dark veil across his face as she watched.
Sometimes, she would see it and it would remind her of what was wrong, and she would want to lash out, because suddenly her illness was just there, like a third party sitting between them in the car, eavesdropping on the conversation, smug, untouchable, threatening.
Other times, the look would slip across his face so subtly, so fleetingly, and she would see him as she imagined one must see their own child, hurt and afraid. She would feel a physical pain then, in her chest, and she had come to know that this was what it was like to actually feel your heart break. At those moments, the urge to gather him up in her arms and hold him to her nearly made her weak.
But she wouldn't allow herself to give in to it. She couldn't. She was afraid to even acknowledge the grieving child who momentarily had hold of her partner with so much as a soft touch. There was, after all, still work to be done: investigations, autopsies and long miles of black highway illuminated only by stabbing white headlights.
She had to go on.
A pick up truck pulled away from the gas pumps and washed her in tired yellow light. She followed it with her eyes as it pulled out onto the road, signaled, and then veered off onto the northbound ramp. She stood there, listening intently to the rattle and roar of the engine, the sound of the tires singing on the pavement until it was gone, leaving only the hum of the hovering sign and the comforting smell of gasoline.
She drank in the night air, so conscious of the physical sensation of cool air in her throat and lungs. Everything seemed so much sharper now. She felt like she should pay closer attention somehow, memorize every intimate detail of smell and sight and touch and taste. She'd often caught herself studying Mulder. His profile, his mouth, his gait, the way he sat and held himself. She watched him like she was thirsty for him, as if he was the one who was about to leave suddenly, without warning.
She wasn't going to think like that. She couldn't afford to.
She stopped walking and let her head fall back, felt the strands of her hair slip back over her suit collar, and she stared straight up at the empty sky above her. She searched the depths for comfort, but found only bottomless color.
It was the last look that undid her.
When she looked into his eyes and saw strength reflected there. When all the walls were down and for a precious instant she craved the comfort of him, desperately wanted to just rest in the shelter that was Mulder. Strong, gentle arms, fiercely protecting her, for just one breathless moment, making everything go away, making everything all right. All she had to do was ask, and he would be open to her.
But she never asked.
She suddenly felt very tired, standing there, looking at the evening sky, like all the life was being drained out of her, up into the ceiling less heavens. She sighed wearily and wandered back to the car, getting in slowly, carefully. It was still and silent in the cabin, the cars on the interstate whipping by soundlessly now. She laid her head against the headrest and felt the emptiness opening up inside her, filling her, pressing against her heart, her lungs.
The driver's door swung open and Mulder piled in, pulled the door shut.
"I got Evian...I figured if you're gonna buy water, you might as well buy French." His grin was barely restrained and his eyes twinkled at the possibility of making her smile.
She looked at his eyes for as long as she dared, feeling her own smile blossom in reflex, then made herself look away as she took the bottle from him and cracked the cap.
A pause, while she felt him study her, waited for what she knew was coming.
"You feeling okay, Scully?"
She stared at the label of the bottle as long as she could, her eyes sightlessly running over the little pink and blue mountains. When she met his gaze, it was there. That look, that expression that laid him out before her, naked, defenseless, pleading.
She thought about how much he needed her to be strong, and she willed the roar within her to be silent. She summoned up a reassuring smile and nodded.
"I feel fine," she said.
He watched her face for an eternity, trying to make himself believe it, then nodded almost imperceptibly, before he started the car and turned on the headlights.
Every month we spotlight a few of our newest OBSSE members. If you know a Scullyist just dying (no Scully cancer pun intended) to find a place where he/she will belong, send them our way!
"I have been a fan of the show for three short weeks and am already completely and irrevocably HOOKED! The sight of the diminutive goddess hurling herself through the air to stop the insane pilot in "Ice" sealed the deal for me. She's tough, brilliant, beautiful, and can wear old woman snow shoes with a dignity not seen in TV since Angie Dickinson...."
"As a devoted follower of the Sainted One, I have spent many frustrating hours defending her SREs and predilections both on and off line. I have teetered on the brink of bankruptcy in order to purchase copies of every publication in which her divine image appears. I have amassed miles of videotape to better gaze upon her holy visage. I even dropped a friend on her head for daring to doubt that GA would win an Emmy for her exquisite portrayal of the divine Saint! (Perhaps this last act requires that I be assigned to "kitchen duty"....)."
"Because, quite frankly, I worship the Blessed Saint Scully. And besides, she has great taste. I love her furniture."
"I deeply, truly appreciate the intellect, integrity, abilities, and marksmanship of She Who Wields the Scalpel of Truth. I was, sadly, at one time, an ardent fan of Mulder. After watching him repeatedly ignore Her Trenchcoatedness' merits, I, of course, forsook him. At any rate, one wishes there had been such a role model as Dana Scully around when one was a teenage girl...."
"Scully is cool. She can think of this as her desk'."
Scully Lover testifies:
"I'd love to be a member of the OBSSE because I am hopelessly devoted to Saint Scully and her Science (well...and those blue eyes too)."
Member Jeditoad states:
"Because I truly believe half the stuff on this page."
November 2 is indeed the XF season five premiere date, that according to a brief promo that aired during the recent repeat of "Zero Sum" (an episode notable only for Mitch Pileggi's gratuitous "briefs" scene, but I digress....). Of course, most Philes who actually *read* the mailing lists and newsgroups have known for quite some time that the date had been set for November 2. If, however, you are still in doubt, you may want to ask Sister Autumn about this issue. She has a keen interest in it. (A friendly warning: make out your will before you e-mail her, okay?)
As we reported last time, the season premiere is titled, "Redux." The blurb folks at Fox say, "Scully's truthfulness about Mulder comes under intense scrutiny, while suspicion arises that someone at the FBI--possibly A.D. Skinner--was responsible for Scully's cancer." Press blurbs for the third part of the two-part opener, cleverly titled, "Redux II" state that, "With Scully lingering near death and the future of the X-Files in danger, the Cigarette-Smoking Man comes forward with a surprising offer to save Scully's life--and more--in the series' 100th episode." Redux II airs November 9.
In Scullycentricland, rumors abound on the Net about "surprises" in the two-part opener (Gee, do you think Mulder really is alive???) and the possibility of a Scullyish two-part episode that could make for quite the introspective angst fest for our dear saint. (Zip. That's all I'm telling for now.)
Each month the OBSSE features prayers, poems, songs, essays, artwork, letters, and other bits and pieces of creative expression from our members. If you're an OBSSE member and would like to contribute something to the newsletter or the web site, let us know, and we'll try to include it. Below are some of this month's offerings:
My Regards to Scully (sung to the tune of "Give My Regards to Broadway")
by Brother Hannibal (who is on a never ending quest to write an OBSSE hymnal sung to Broadway show tunes...)
Give my regards to Scully
When visiting the FBI
Tell her the gang from O-B-S-S-E
That everyone says hi...
Please know we're thinking of you...
And are thankful you're alive
Give our regards to Saint Scully
And our blessings for season five!
For we need a little Scully
Right this very minute
Mulder right beside her
Looking very timid
And we need a little yappy
Scrappy dog with her
Need a little Scully now....
Haul out the body
Bring out the carving tools and
Let her slice them up...
Spice up the subtext
It's time for Scully to have another date now...
For she's grown a little meaner
Grown a little bolder
Come to like Mulder despite what agents told her...
And she has a little angel
Sitting on her shoulder
We need a little Scully...need a little Scully...need a little Scully now!!!
O Blessed Saint Scully,
Fill me with your infinite scepticism!
Grant me the gift of your scientific wisdom and the ability to wear three-inch heels.
Assist me in resisting the lure of men who love too little,
Men who dump their partners too often,
And men who like to emblazon their flesh with colored inks and who will try and stuff me into an incinerator.
Help me understand that 5' 4" and redheaded is infinitely more sexy and intelligent than 6' and brunette.
And above all, never let me lose my ability with eyebrow-raising.
I ask this through your name...St. Dana Katherine Scully...
Mulder, you're nuts.
Scully, Scully, Krishna, Krishna!
I'd like you to have this coroner's's cap.
It's the Scully Krishna song!
Please be nice, and sing along!
OBSSErs' are in a funk--
Scully's been ditched by the Punk!
She wastes her IQ and her smiles--
Better She were paired with Giles!
Punk leaves Her "Paperworked" and "faxed"; Leave him in Russia, let him get waxed!
(That this would not occur is so;
She is strong, and true, we know.)
Scully alone can ever preserve him--
God help us all, but Ratboy deserves him!
Tis pity the Punk should know no better;
Our Lady should be his raison d'etre.
It's the end of the song, though not Her story;
No matter events of "Memento Mori!"
Scully, Scully, Krishna, Krishna--
I'd like you to have this coroner's scalpel.
It's the Scully Krishna song!
Won't you help and sing along?
Joy of joy, and thrill of thrills!
H'wood finally saw her skills!
Through Files UFOd and BEMmy,
Dana came through--got an Emmy!
Sing praise for intellect and beauty,
Strength of will and sense of duty!
The best of luck to Her we like--
Too bad, too bad, O Doctor Mike!
A second of silence and no cheer--
Too bad, Punk--perhaps next year!
When all's said and when all's done,
O joy! O bliss! Our Gillian's won!
"News for the OBSSEsed" is copyright 1997 by Nancy Cotton, except for the characters (which I don't own, I just play with) and a few of the photos (but not many.) :-)