“It’s stuck.”
“What?”
“It’s stuck… in the birth canal of thought.”
(Oh… puhleeze) “You mean, you’re having a hard time.”
“Sort of… sort of like everyone else.”
“And, like everyone else,” sigh, “you think that you’re different.”
“Yeah, it appears so.” (That’s how the *surveys were read)
“Well, let’s get down to business then, shall we?” (This shit better be worth my time or at least coherent)
“Okay. Here it is. The detour.”
