Someone writes to Professor Imaginary:
“Dear Professor: Do you think even a rebel could ‘explain-away’ guilt?”
“Sure,” replies the Professor, he’d probably say something like: ‘Guilt is the cheap, too-tight cotton undershorts I wear during the week, but replace on the weekends.’”
And the make-believe writer says: “Wow, thanks Professor.”
And the Professor nods and smiles.
And a reader opines:
“If you ask me – I’m not sure I like those where you apparently let everyday life have the last word. My wife says that in truth – I don’t like ANY of them…but still…Yours, (as sincerely as I can BE), etc.”
“Hey,” said one messenger to the king, “Don’t blame ME – the truth IS obnoxious.”
One day a “kinda-try-to-be” rebel asked himself: “Has being any smarter made you any happier?” And then told himself: “Don’t ask me questions like that!”
As the bus whizzed by, the man leaned from a window and yelled to himself, standing on the corner: “Forgive me – but I must think what the others are thinking.” And faster than any eye could see, a certain part of his street-standing brain grinned, understood, made an insulting gesture and managed not to hear any of this – all at the same time.