[b]Joseph Heller
They couldn’t keep Death out, but while she was in she had to act like a lady.[/b]
Still, she either takes you with her or she doesn’t.
The colonel dwelt in a vortex of specialists who were still specializing in trying to determine what was troubling him. They hurled lights in his eyes to see if he could see, rammed needles into nerves to hear if he could feel. There was a urologist for his urine, a lymphologist for his lymph, an endocrinologist for his endocrines, a psychologist for his psyche, a dermatologist for his derma; there was a pathologist for his pathos, a cystologist for his cysts, and a bald and pendantic cetologist from the zoology department at Harvard who had been shanghaied ruthlessly into the Medical Corps by a faulty anode in an I.B.M. machine and spent his sessions with the dying colonel trying to discuss Moby Dick with him.
Nothing at all like Obamacare. Let alone the shit from Trump.
But Yossarian knew he was right, because, as he explained to Clevinger, to the best of his knowledge he had never been wrong.
To the best of his knowledge. That’s the rub, isn’t it?
He made so many people uneasy. Everyone was always very friendly toward him, and no one was ever very nice; everyone spoke to him, and no one ever said anything.
Here, that might be you.
People have a right to do anything that’s not forbidden by law, and there’s no law against lying to you.
Unless of course you are testifying under oath. To, among others, Robert Mueller.
Yossarian - the very sight of the name made Colonel Cathcart shudder. There were so many esses in it. It just had to be subversive. It was like the word “subversive” itself. It was like “seditious” and “insidious” too, and like “socialist,” “suspicious,” “fascist” and “Communist.” It was an odious, alien, distasteful name, a name that just did not inspire confidence.
So, how many subversive esses in your name?