how does this stand up, next to Buddenbrooks, by Thomas Mann? I put ADA on his reading shelf, for him to read, and maybe we could discuss it....but, he was busy reading library books he himself had chosen to read, so the books I gave him languished in a state of un-being readed ness. Eventually, I tired (as I always did on weekend walks), so I took them back, at which he evinced mild astonishment, not understanding the urgency of humanity's predicament: the eternal race against time. What, you may ask, did this man understand? He was a traveling salesman, and later became a social services expert for seniors..i have heard he manifested as an obstructionist in that role, but who listens to such clients, anyway. He knew how to act, though not professionally, and certainly he knew how to manipulate people, one or more than one, against the other(-s). He was really a surly little child trapped in the body of a fit man: if he didn't get his way, in family relations, he'd go into an emotional fugue, and listen endlessly to classical records on his high -priced stereo. he loved to inflict these sounds on others, although, later, he did acquire headphones, but he wouldn't always wear them. After my mother died, it was a relief to him to be able to rewrite history his way, as no one would be able to contradict his version (mine not allowed to account for much of anything, as I was never an acolyte of his). So, Rest in Peace, you bastard.
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