There Can Be No More Ancient And

Anyone Who Has Invented A Better Mousetrap, Or The Contemporary Equivalent, Can Expect To Be Harassed By Strangers Demanding That You Read Their Unpublished Manuscripts Or Undergo The Humiliation Of Public Speaking, Usually On Remote Midwestern Campuses.

The One Regret I Have About My Own Abortions Is That They Cost Money That Might Otherwise Have Been Spent On Something More Pleasurable, Like Taking The Kids To Movies And Theme Parks.

Thus Will The Fondest Dream Of Phallic Science Be Realized: A Pristine New Planet Populated Entirely By Little Boy Clones Of Great Scientific Entrepreneurs Free To Smash Atoms, Accelerate Particles, Or, If They Are So Moved, Build Pyramids -- Without Any Social Relevance Or Human Responsibility At All.

The Money That Fueled The Explosion Of Gluttony At The Top Had To Come From Somewhere Or, More Specifically, From Someone. Since No Domestic Oil Deposits Had Been Discovered, No New Seams Of Uranium Or Gold, And Since The War In Iraq Enriched Only The Military Contractors And Suppliers, It Had To Come From Other Americans.

The Media Have Just Buried The Last Yuppie, A Pathetic Creature Who Had Not Heard The News That The Great Pendulum Of Public Consciousness Has Just Swung From Greed To Compassion And From Tex-mex To Meatballs