Lots of things about life puzzle me.
Right now, I’m wondering about certain of my critics. Why do they seem perpetually outraged? And why don’t they get the joke? How is it that they can’t figure out that their outrage at the joke very often is the joke?
These are mysteries.
And, while we’re at it, what is the sound of one hand clapping? And where, for that matter, is my missing backpack?