An ominous visitor was at the door. He did not give his name. An ominous, anonymous visitor was at the door. He was always there. It was not anomalous for this ominous, anonymous visitor to be at the door. He knocked and knocked with growing force, explaining that he needed to be let inside so that he could correct the record, and that his impulse to do so sprung only from a highly developed sense of moral rectitude. “My motives are autonomous,” said the ominous, anonymous, non-anomalous visitor. Inside the house, a group of people sat around a table, playing cards, telling each other that the knocking noise was the pipes. They were a diverse bunch—an economist, an agronomist, two astronomers, a commoner—but only called each other “friend.”
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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