In re the flesh wound reported in my December Diary a reader offers the definitive comment: “Derb—Good thing it wasn’t your middle finger; then you wouldn’t be able to drive in NYC anymore…”
That same reader also had a riposte to my remark about the C.S. Lewis clones who dominated my early educational experiences with their efforts “…to indoctrinate me in the joy of organized sports, the necessity of uncritical faith, and the perils of self-abuse.” His riposte: “Lucky you, Derb; count your blessings. Today you would be indoctrinated in the perils of organized sports, criticism of necessary faith, and the joys of self-abuse.”
I would give this reader a prize for his wit and alacrity, but am too enervated (not to mention beggared) by the season’s festivities to rise to it.