What The Devil To Do

Few Great Men Would Have Got Past Personnel.

In Our Truly Remarkable An Unexampled Civil Peace, Where There Are Rarely Fist Fights; Where No One Is Born, Is Gravely Ill, Or Dies; Where Meat Is Eaten But No One Sees An Animal Slaughtered; Where Scores Of Millions Of Cars, Trains, Elevators, And Airplanes Go Their Scheduled Way And There Is Rarely A Crash; Where An Immense Production Proceeds In Orderly Efficiency And The Shelves Are Duly Clears And Nevertheless None Of This Come To Joy Or Tragic Grief Or Any Other Final Good It Is Not Surprising If There Are Explosions.

I Move In A Society So Devoid Of Ordinary Reality That I Am Continually Stopping To Teach Good Sense, To Give Support, To Help Out, As A Young Gangster Might Help An Old Lady Across The Street On His Way To The Stick-up.

Comedy Deflates The Sense Precisely So That The Underlying Lubricity And Malice May Bubble To The Surface.

The Aim Is Not To Give Human Beings Real Goals That Warrant Belief, And Tasks To Share In, But To Re-establish "belonging," Although This Kind Of Speech And Thought Is Precisely Calculated To Avoid Contact And So Makes Belonging Impossible.