A CHOIR OF VILLAGE IDIOTS

According to some people, Iranian schoolgirls are better off dead than in a burka. The person who specifically said that is not someone whom you want to know. But he's a connoisseur of omelets. And at least the trains now run on time, and there are fabulous autobahns, plus there's lebensraum.

So okay, we had to give up the rule of law plus checks and balances to achieve this, but it's a small price to pay. The best of times, the worst of times, the end of times.

There are several people I am glad to have ceased associating with. Three of them are named Bob. But the Bobs are only a small percentage.


On the other hand, I notice that I have lost a few Facebook Friends in the last two hours, so that's even more people with whom I do not have to associate. I must be doing something right, and good riddance to them.


One person who has not defriended me is never-the-less gloating like heck over recent events, and proving that he may, at least temporarily, have a screw loose.
I shall assume that eventually he'll come to his senses.

He lives in New York. They aren't all on the same planet there.

One key factor in our survival as a social species is that most of us know how to modulate what we say, and consequently do not always spew what's actually going on in our heads. When meeting someone we haven't seen in a while, we don't exclaim "good lord, you're still alive, I thought pest control would've offed you long ago!", instead we murmur "how nice to see you again" and ask what they have been doing recently.

My apartment mate is aware of this. She does not tell people to go intercourse themselves, or buy their own damned snacks. Instead she utters a polite nicety. She's further on the spectrum than I am by a fair-thee-well, and this hurts her.


I am in some ways a social man. If I meet any of the Bobs ever again, which I'm desperate to avoid, I will cheerfully greet them like long lost friends. Oh hey, how is it going?
Gatverdamme nondeju, verrekte klooi-ak.



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