You know about those ornery old men who’ve charitably devoted their lives to art. They’ll attack anyone who gets in their way. They’re usually gaunt, bony and tall. They’ll want the dwindling number of days before them to be just like the long period they’ve left behind. They’re short-tempered, and they complain about everything. They’ll try to grab the reins in all situations, causing everyone around them to throw up their hands in frustration; they don’t like anyone or anything. I know, because I’m one of them.
