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Pull up a chair and sit is not a placard on my door, too much old man for the pleasant enterprise, not that there's no money in it otherwise, quite the other way around in fact; maybe that's where we get at the heart of no nonsense: we've never met, but I'm willing to bet you have ways to suggest turning my turnings into profit not all for myself; even more: pleasure for those who don't know they want pleasure yet. Forget the plans you have for a new house, your health, the weather not quite itself this year. I've lost my train of thought: politics, God? Why, were you in, I'd be out, supply met quite aptly for yourself.
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