They laffed at me at Heidelberg.* They prodded me with cheesecake. They banned my unorthodox experiments on swine. Then I waited. Alone. At night. Now is the moment I have chosen to emerge into the unpitying light of righteous “day.” My weapon? This column, which at this moment I control absolutely, harshly, with squinted eyes and slightly flared nostrils. You are reading the verbal equivalent of an enormous Death-Ray howitzer perched crazily atop a Swiss alp and locked on to certain, classified brain-wave patterns. I am immortal.
Guest-Editor’s Tirade
March 1, 1994They laffed at me at Heidelberg.* They prodded me with cheesecake. They banned my unorthodox experiments on swine. Then I waited. Alone. At night. Now is the moment I have chosen to emerge into the unpitying light of righteous “day.” My weapon? This column, which at this moment I control absolutely, harshly, with squinted eyes and slightly flared nostrils. You are reading the verbal equivalent of an enormous Death-Ray howitzer perched crazily atop a Swiss alp and locked on to certain, classified brain-wave patterns. I am immortal.
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