Oh dear.

So, I read this story from the New York Times about how the Mexicans have discovered a stone with thee-thousand-year-old writing on it, and my first thought is:

“I wonder which Gu’old this belongs to.”

News Flash, I’m a geek – but it gets worse.

Now, scholars are tantalized by a message in stone in a script unlike any other and a text they cannot read. They are excited by the prospect of finding more of this writing, and eventually deciphering it, to crack open a window on one of the most enigmatic ancient civilizations.

Daniel would have it all figured out by now, you know – he’d stay up day and night, taking his little wire-rimmed glasses off, rubbing his fingers through his tousled hair, and putting them back on, standing over his desk, head bowed, one hand resting on the text in benediction, the other gripping a cup of coffee as he raises it to his pursed lips.

God, Archeology is so *hot*.

Then, after the montage of well-framed shots of Daniel’s furrowed brow and tousled hair and pursed lips, he’d give a report in a rapid-fire staccato of blazing brilliance that leaves everybody in his intellectual dust.

Cameron would ask a dumb question, and Daniel would reveal with a flourish the name of whichever nasty beastie they are going to open up a can of whoop-ass on now.

I clearly need mental help.

But in all seriousness, this is a very exciting find, and my sincerest congratulations and best wishes to the real-life geniuses that are going to unlock its secrets and share that knowledge with the rest of us.

Now, where is that yellow pages.  I’m thinking this Daniel thing might require electroshock therapy.