Even The Finest Workman Needs To Inspect

Liberation, I Guess, Is Everybody Getting What They Think They Want, Without Knowing The Whole Truth. Or In Other Words, Liberation Finally Amounts To Being Free From Things We Don't Like In Order To Be Enslaved By Things We Approve Of. Here's To The Eternal Tandem.

I Know What I Really Want For Christmas. I Want My Childhood Back. Nobody Is Going To Give Me That. I Might Give At Least The Memory Of It To Myself If I Try. I Know It Doesn't Make Sense, But Since When Is Christmas About Sense, Anyway? It Is About A Child, Of Long Ago And Far Away, And It Is About The Child Of Now. In You And Me. Waiting Behind The Door Of Or Hearts For Something Wonderful To Happen. A Child Who Is Impractical, Unrealistic, Simpleminded And Terribly Vulnerable To Joy.

We Even Make Ourselves Up, Fusing What We Are With What We Wish Into What We Must Become. I'm Not Sure Why It Must Be So, But It Is.

And I’m Not Confused About The Lack Of, Or The Need For, Imagination In Low Or High Places. We Could Do Better We Must Do Better. There Are Far Worse Things To Drop On People Than Crayolas.

I've Always Made A Clear Distinction Between Making A Life And Making A Living.