There are more people than you think who want to have a challenging experience, in which they are obliged to reflect about the past.

The only truths that are useful are instruments to be thrown away.

The art of splitting hairs four ways. This is the department of useless techniques. Mechanical Avunculogratulation, for example, is how to build machines for greeting uncles. We're not sure, though, if Pylocatabasis belongs, since it's the art of being saved by a hair. Somehow that doesn't seem completely useless.

Once upon a time there were mass media, and they were wicked, of course, and there was a guilty party. Then there were the virtuous voices that accused the criminals. And Art (ah, what luck!) offered alternatives, for those who were not prisoners to the mass media.

But laughter is weakness, corruption, the foolishness of our flesh.

There are more people than you think who want to have a challenging experience, in which they are obliged to reflect about the past.

National identity is the last bastion of the dispossessed. But the meaning of identity is now based on hatred, on hatred for those who are not the same.