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.