I Think We Need Politicians; We Need

Dead Air' Is Full Of Rants; It's A Rant-based Book. Yes, It's Self-indulgence. I Plead Guilty; Mea Culpa.

If This Goes Badly And I Make A Crater, I Want It Named After Me!

Any Such Inklings Were Like A Few Scattered Grains Of Truth Dissolved In An Ocean Of Nonsense, And Were Anyway Generally Inextricably Bound Up With Patently Paranoid Ravings Which Served Only To Devalue The Small Amounts Of Sense And Pertinence With Which They Were Associated.

Maybe It Wasn't Anything Remotely To Do With Religion, Mysticism Or Metaphilosophy After All; Maybe It Was More Banal; Maybe It Was Just...accounting.

I Held My Crotch, Closed My Eyes And Repeated My Secret Catechism.