As the Earl asks, “Who’s the bigger fool?” The reporter who refuses to invent a meaning for life? Or the reader who wants it? And stands ready to accept this meaning presented in the words of a stranger? His voice from behind the paper, the Earl of Slander says, “A journalist has a right . . . . . . and a duty, to destroy those golden calves he helps create.”
The air will always be to filled with something. Your body too sore or tired. Your father too drunk. Your wife too cold. You will always have some excuse not to live your life.