And immaterial dimensions as well, Amos.

Shame, on the other hand, can't see beyond the bottom of a bottle while I can see his ultimate fate: old, alone, rancid, drooling in the dregs of the empty beer bottle he found in a dumpster, picking the lice from his clothing for his dinner, and eventually someone finding his ulcerated body in a filthy gutter and saying, "YEW!! That stinks!" Then what is left of what was Shame McBride is taken to a mortuary where even the rats in the walls flee from something that loathsome. After a very, very cursory examination the medical examiner will say, "I can't let that be buried because it would pollute the earth for generations to come, nor can I let it be burned because the smoke would nauseate all of Canada. Take it out and throw it into a volcano somewhere!" And the officials take it to Iceland and throw that which was once Shame into a volcano, which promptly spits it back out. Stymied, they elect to simply leave the loathsome thing to the buzzards, which promptly throw up and toss it back to them. And as the debate rages about how to dispose of that which was once Shame, suddenly the alcohol laden tissues of the cadaver spontaneously combust and leave naught a wrack behind. And one day, a bright eyed child will ask, "Daddy, who was this Shame McBride whose name is in our family bible?" and her father will reply, "Dearest one, he was a very, very, very stupid fool and we had any genes we shared with him wiped away as soon as that became possible. Would you like some ice cream?" And the child will say yes, and Shame McBride's name will never be mentioned ever again.