Chapter Nineteen

Where Ya Been All My Life?

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“I dunno, Stan. Maybe we’re only our own constructs constructing what seems our idiotic selves. And each of those so-called selves, of which we all have more than one, may see everything - including itself - drastically differently.”

"But we’re not totally different that way?"

“No. We’re bibliological orgasmisms, whatever that means. But whatever it means, it means limits. Very few of us think we’re aardvarks or lawn chairs. But then again...Sometimes I think I’m a nematode. Hit the road, Jack.”

“Right, Abe. Sometimes I think trimp is a Vogon.”



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“I dunno, Stan. Maybe we’re only our own constructs constructing what seems our idiotic selves. And each of those so-called selves, of which we all have more than one, may see everything - including itself - drastically differently.”

"But we’re not totally different that way?"

“No. We’re bibliological orgasmisms, whatever that means. But whatever it means, it means limits. Very few of us think we’re aardvarks or lawn chairs. But then again. . . Sometimes I think I’m a nematode. Hit the road, Jack.”

“Right, Abe. Sometimes I think trimp is a Vogon.”