Some Middle-Earth Clarification

In honor of the last Hobbit movie, I’d like to set a few Middle Earth related items straight. First, I’ve been asked by a very astute young lady if I live in a Hobbit hole. While I certainly wish I did reside in a Hobbit hole, I must confess that as of now, I do not. I hope to correct this issue posthaste. On a similar note, I do have hairy feet, but this is probably caused by the same old man gene that leads to shaggy ears, fuzzy eyebrows, and nasal fur as opposed to any legitimate Hobbit heritage.

Unlike Hobbits, I am also quite fond of dragons. They breathe fire and sound like Benedict Cumberbatch. If I could breathe fire and sound like Benedict Cumberbatch, I would probably end up President of the Universe, or the head of the Jedi Council, or Indiana Jones, or a genetically engineered Sherlockian dragon who becomes the greatest sorcerer in the universe after my surgically skilled hands are injured in an automobile accident. The sky would be the limit, because I’d have wings to go with my cool voice and ability to barbecue those foolish enough to oppose me.

Finally, I’d just like to say that if Gandalf invited me on an adventure, I would go. After all, he’s keeper of the Secret Fire. You can’t, in good conscience, turn down that type of request. It’s not like the neighbors asked you to a dinner party, unless the neighbors know all about the Secret Fire and are planning a treasure filled quest destined to lead into personal enlightenment instead of after dinner coffee. Which is why I’m eventually going to move to a Hobbit hole, because in my neighborhood, that seems unlikely.