Which universe are we in? I'm just asking, because in the one I'm in most of the time, theories don't prove anything.

Amos, it's the certainty with which someone once told me I was really another person (whom I and the person telling me both knew, and who was in the room). The problem is that you play by their rules, and their rules are often slithy and their momes are wrathful.

Hey, it's either fun or it's Pecksniffian viscosity, with no redeeming impertinent whimsy, and you really need the impertinent whimsy!