Some people want to make history by making up history,

changing facts to fit circumstances, petty details left to the spin doctors and makeup technicians and bullshit artists to plaster the cracks and spackle the holes where nails buried their pointy little heads rather than face the music for a soundtrack that’s yet to be written. The truth comes in the morning news. The memories come via the entertainment channel. The backspin comes on the history channel. The work is creative and the money is good. News and entertainment merge on prime time in a parallel universe. History is what someone says it is, subject to space availability, subject to financial support. First come, first served. Youth has the upper hand, the home-court advantage. We worship youth on the altar of tradition, as if anything they say, regardless of how naïve, is worth far more than the wisest sage could come up with, he with bad teeth and breath to boot. They’ve got a point, you know. Listen to the words of someone with years and experience, but who can still speak the language of children and fathom the path of dreams.

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