Shadow Games

Every ounce of my cynicism is supported by historical precedent.

I guess each of us, at some time, finds one person with whom we are compelled towards absolute honesty, one person whose good opinion of us becomes a substitute for the broader opinion of the world. And that opinion becomes more important than all our sneaky, sleazy schemes of greed, lust, self-aggrandizement, whatever we are up to while lying the world into believing we are just plain nice folks.

I guess I suffer from an impoverishment of the sociopathic spirit necessary to go big time.

It was one of those moments in which I become very uncomfortable. One of those times when nothing you say can be right, and almost anything you do say is wrong. I could see no answer but the classic Croaker approach. I began to back away. That is how I handle my women. Duck for cover when they get distressed. I almost made it to the door. She could move when she wanted. She crossed the gap and put her arms around me, rested a cheek against my chest. And that is how they handle me, the sentimental fool. The closet romantic.

Truth is a deadly weapon, Lady said.

- If each man picks an evil and attacks it relentlessly, how long can evil persist? That was an easy one. Forever. More evil gets done in the name of righteousness than any other way.

- Goblin, that was a dumb stunt. - It sure was. Made me feel forty years younger.