It is pardonable for children to yell that they believe in fairies, but it is somehow sinister when the piping note shifts from the puerile to the senile.
The people who must never have power are the humorless. To impossible certainties of rectitude they ally tedium and uniformity.
And how easy it is to recognize the revenant shapes that the old unchanging enemies—racism, leader worship, superstition—assume when they reappear amongst us (often bodyguarded by their new apologists).
Teasing is very often a sign of inner misery.
