i can feel granny fussbudget pounding his fist on his desk

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His mounds of ash-tainted notes and printouts and clutch toys are flying everywhere in the crescendo of his agreement. His pulpy corpulence is cranking out high amplitude emo waves, despite his pallor and general state of badly decaying crapfed health.

You've never met anyone as hypocritically a music snob in your wildest imagination, and your entire problem is you were not taught the classics and music theory as a toddler. Far from pitying you that deficit, he hates you for it, dreams up all manner of villainous ways to spite you for it.

I half suspect Granny of having modeled himself after Ignatius J. Reilly, such is his zest for toxic comestibles and fastidiously-cultivated squalor, but I seem to recall Ignatz having more courage... though I ought to go back and reread that, it having been since its original publication that I read it.

Listened to him holding forth with Admiral Janeway and others last night, hearing him gripe about the lack of the necessary language for discussing the topological metaphor. It exasperated me because therein lies the deepest chasm in our communication. He seems to think it's math, though he doesn't say so in public, and was irked to the skies at the triviality of my response to this [non] quandary.


He's so engaged in his multifarious compensations for a lack of genital presence, he doesn't grok what that is, can't credit this severely repressed human ability to communicate perfectly. Having no experience with it, a fervidly cultivated lack, the simple answer to his biggest brain buster upsets him. And nobody gets that kind of upset who isn't threatened right down in the marrow.

Better to leave that whole subject as an affectation of great sapiospiritual insight than open a slit in his pasty seething armor to find out. How on earth could he be expected to keep charging people for his opinions if he had to do anything as actual as learning? There is a cosmos of difference between researching and learning. Gotta love the fabulous researchers who can bring us little troves of adamantine arcana, but this is not learning. It's memorization.

And, oh, yeah, great if you can use this arsenal of memory to cook up fabulous speculations to entertain the mobs of suffering beings whose IQs are so sore and suffocated they will do or pay anything to get a break from that, but this is ultimately like taking an aspirin to regrow a vital organ.

Good thing I didn't go.

Nothing worse than people getting on in years having to cope with a peer who won't settle for making her conceits believable enough to make bank. What do you do with someone who keeps insisting we stay real before we decide our credentials are fancy enough to only CALL it that?

I know the answer to that question, and I keep wondering when my discernment will be sharp enough not to waste so much time on it, quit putting myself through wringers trying to bring people through them with me.

always and any time....