I think I know why young Mr. Pacman seems distraught and apprehensive: It is the honest face of one discovering that there is more baseness, indifference, hatred, stupidity and plain meanness built in to the Way Things Are than he in particular can fathom, deal with, or entirely comprehend. The exact political similarity of the burning of the Reichstag in 1933 and controlled demolition of the World Trade Center in 2001, and their Constitutional consequences, has not, and cannot, occur to him. You'd think he'd notice that, in both cases, the use of torture was revived.
I burn hot. I tend to exhaust people in conversation, like Margaret Fuller did Carlyle. Which leaves me (but apparently not Margaret) always wishing I'd shut up sooner. I have quite a few friends and not many enemies, but I'm very proud of the few I do have. There is consensus among my friends about me, which is how I know to write about myself. What my enemies think of me I have no idea. That, of course, could be dangerous.
The list of interests and favorites is absurdly partial and half-assed, particularly as to music and books. It's the stupid format of the blog itself, as given, that, of course, I color outside the lines and burst the seams of.
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