and finally....


Subject: and finally....
From: Scottie Bowman (rbowman@indigo.ie)
Date: Tue May 23 2000 - 02:29:21 GMT


    My Son The Freudian - glancing over my shoulder
    at our recent discussion of the Blessed Seymour's death
    - points out something so obvious that I shrivel at
    having missed it. (And confide would have registered
    it immediately, before any other feature, in an actual
    clinical situation.)

    Seymour doesn't kill himself tactfully & decently
    behind some private sand dune - but on the bed next
    to his wife. With such a close drilling there may not
    have been a very large exit wound, but possibly enough
    to spatter her lightly with a little pink stuff. How better
    to leave her with a lifetime of self-reproach?
    This has certainly been the effect on such relatives
    as I've known who had to try to live with similar
    public immolations. As the Poles say:
    'The peasant hangs himself at the landlord's door.'

    It's the act of a man drowning in hatred. So much
    for the benefits of Zen Buddhism.

    Scottie B.

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