[b]Neil Gaiman
Nothing’s changed. You’ll go home. You’ll be bored. You’ll be ignored. No one will listen to you, really listen to you. You’re too clever and too quiet for them to understand. They don’t even get your name right.[/b]
Sure, we all want to believe that’s the explanation. But, really, for me, it is.
When the first living thing existed, I was there waiting. When the last living thing dies, my job will be finished. I’ll put the chairs on the tables, turn out the lights and lock the universe behind me when I leave.
Not counting all of the other universes of course. Well, if that’s true.
It’s still National Library Week. You should be especially nice to a librarian today, or tomorrow. Sometime this week, anyway. Probably the librarians would like tea. Or chocolates. Or a reliable source of funding.
That reminds me: Can you even imagine Don Trump in a library?
This isn’t about what is . . . it’s about what people think is.
We’re fucked in other words.
It has always been the prerogative of children and half-wits to point out that the emperor has no clothes. But a half-wit remains a half-wit, and the emperor remains an emperor.
Trump naked in the Oval Office?
Well, maybe Ivanka, he thought.
Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.
I know: You’re the exception.