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March 8, 2002
He sits atop a mountain of noble gas. He’s the master of opacity. An ace at ambiguity. Plays warden to the willfully ignorant. And, o! how the simple among us despise ambiguity. No one draws wrath from the righteous quite like this emperor of everything elliptical. You’d almost think he enjoyed it. Though it’s hard to tell what he digs and what he doesn’t. If he can dig it. If he can’t dig anything. Or if he simply chooses not to dig. If he sold his shovel for a sawbuck. It’s all a tad strange. No one quite knows him.