- So there I was, standing in the express line at the Big Barn waiting to pay for my bag of chopped suet.
- Chopped beef suet?
- Yes, of course. We're not animals here.
- But we do eat 'em.
[a troubled pause]
- I don't see your point.
- Ah... yes. Analogical reasoning and the rudiments of primitivism. Sympathetic magic and the suppression of doubt. [pause] All that stuff.
[troubled pause]
- Anyway, I'm waiting with suet in hand and sure as the caves of Lascaux are dark the weedy, unwashed wench in front me feels the need to open up on this Obama character and the glorious cause and the slow, determined march of history and the infernal bleating of the bloody chimes of freedom and isn't it oh Lord a new day a comin' and praise our unworthy souls the deliverance thereof.
- They do tend to comport themselves with an over weaned ethos, if you will.
- And so of course I had no choice but to retort impostor! puerile impostor who can't say a harsh word but he wrap it in the gauze of some insufferable sensitivity. Don't be reachin' out to me, ya sweet tongued charlatan. I don't need your heartfelt touch.
- We'll be touching ourselves, thank you very much.
