upon being asked if there was anything he couldn’t do, replied in a rather aggravated tone, “put a lawnchair together!”
He does actually have a few other weaknesses, born of a bad case of “engineer-itis”—one has to give him a lot of sartorial advice, and decorating tips. And then he still persists in going out and buying Colonial chairs to coordinate with his art deco apartment and his black baby grand piano.
But don’t get me started.
“Come on, Buddy,” I tell him. “Each of us, on our own, will necessarily have a two-dimensional view of the world; that’s why we have to check with other human beings to approach anything like an objective view of anything. None of us are perfect.”
I hang up, and repeat it out loud, just to remind myself: “None of us are perfect. No; not one.”
Which is functionally true, and theologically quite close.
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