The Stupid Wallbanger

Enthusiasm in Secondary affairs is not unlike sexual arousal in Primary ones.

In the Revolutionist “Developmental Chart,” there is a stage of growth singular to itself.  It notes not only a “time-by-which a kid should be talking,” but also a time-by-which one should shut up.

Every time you find out that some particular “thing” doesn’t really matter – everything else shifts.

One evening, during the recent Philosophers’ Convention over on the Pithy Planet, one chap climbed up on the bar and announced, “Leaving footprints on the beach is no proof you can swim.”  And his mates were so swept along with the thrill of the moment that they had the bar name a drink after their exuberant colleague.  It’s called the “Stupid Wallbanger.”

A City service is not useless or fraudulent as long as men still call upon it.  From certain hillside views, however, it can seem to have “overstayed its visit.”


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