I must protest at this slur on my fair name. First, I am called that suicidee (and to think I am past that viable, diable age by at least 3 years now) and then the epithet "nice" is hurled at me with a finality that leaves me gasping under its impact and weight. I also contest the assertion that we are all "wannabe" Holdens. I submit that we all _are_ Holden, to some degree or the other. As for me, since almost all the girls and women I know seem to prefer Zooey or Buddy, my endeavour has been to strive to be like them (not the girls and women, let me add by way of a parenthetical clarification). Not very successfully, as they, and ye all, will readily testify. Come to think of it, I rather like the idea of being Bessie too, with all those kimono pockets and those conversations with Zooey over various cigarettes and such. Somehow Tim and Scottie remind me of them. Tim, I envy you for that concert with Bob & Paul. Why, even I would happily let anyone trample over my feet (ah, feet!), if they were carrying a similar placard. Scottie? He is the closest to Holden I can think of -- as irreverent as ever, and still managing to remain endearingly lovable, though I can just about imagine him bristling at being described thus, twirling those moustaches and putting on his most ginormous sneer to refute even the remotest possibility of any such rumoured similarity. And while I am at it, let me also clarify that much as I might miss the good old days sometines, it is only in the spirit of those extra country singers it allegedly takes to fix a fused light bulb. Sonny, thinking of DENSA and that Groucho remark about memberships to clubs, but also nodding enthusiastically at all those fond of REM. "I am not over you".