I’m reading this like I watch Shamwow commercials; eyes glazed over, drooling on myself, then realizing this anonymous do-gooder, superhero rescuer of the unwashed masses has no interest in helping or improving anything or anyone. The psychological defense mechanism is in high gear, churning out layer upon layer of justification for righteous opposition to that pyramid scam that snared him at his moment of greatest naive vulnerability, convinced him that he had some greater purpose in his life, assured him that his generation could rise from the fever swamp of his mouth-breathing forebears, and then dashed his little house of cards by revealing the cold, hard reality: he has not the anatomical equipment to transform his fantasy to reality.
Me thinks the lady doth protesteth too much. The grave injustice perpetrated on our defenseless eunoch lies in the absurd notion proposed by his undiscriminating sponsor: “You can do it!” Instead, the appropriate promise that should have been given to such a hapless innocent: “ad astra per alia porci”, accompanied by a sympathetic smile and a very gentle handshake.
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