When I was a wee lad in preschool, back when the first Trudeau was PM and Nixon was still president , they took us kids out to the park one day and a bee disrupted the class. I don't remember if it was the teacher freaking out first, and the kids imitating her, or if the kids ran around screaming like kids generally do, but I do remember I let the bee land on me because I liked bees. "I like bees!" I therefore told the screeching teacher as she tried to somehow not touch me and not alarm the bee while freaking the hell out. "He can be my pet!" I continued, unaware that the bee was a dirty girl, probably with cooties.
This incident was the beginning of my problems with authority.
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Better educated sadness than oblivious joy.
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