From "The Early Days"

The contact proved to be most beneficial. I had met him during an office party where I couldn't partake in the festivities but could flutter about offering tidbits of conversation. Don't know why he was there. My goal at the time was to read books written by my favourite pulp authors (Frank Herbert, Chester Himes . . . ), especially the bad ones, in order to find hidden critical treasure that could be dug up to finance a company who could then use their allegories to exoterically elucidate philosophical concepts in a comedic literary fashion. My opposition was transparent although all the more lethal in its purpose since it was aware of its receding resources, the kind of ineffectual lout who believes himself to be royal but can't handle the slightest degree of criticism without responding violently in the negated namesake of honour. My contact's demeanour was kind, words, helpful, name, euphonic, humour, heartbreaking. I remembered his sprightliness as the years went by and was pleased that when my company had indeed been established, it was able to provide him with necessary resources to nurture its harmonies.