A Bunch of Know-nothings

Call a doctor for any erection that looks like these.

Almost too many years ago to admit, I made my solo art debut at a tony art gallery in Washington, DC's Georgetown neighborhood. It was there that I first understood that the public is rife with fools.

On display were my colored pencil drawings, many of them floral in nature. I had a certain technique--gimmick, you might say--of employing a particular template to create the leaves or fronds on plants. I used it again and again.

At the show's opening I cruised the crowd, filled with many strangers among my friends. I overheard two people I did not know discussing the relative merits of my work. One of them, a man, stated unequivocally that the drawings were quite erotic in nature, deeming my leaves phallic symbols.  I intervened, suggesting they might simply be leaves. The woman responded, laughingly, that they were "obviously penises."

So it is with the media, who today are all over the two Russian brothers responsible for the Boston Marathon bombings. They were this, they were that. They felt this way, they felt that way. No really, they were definitely this and definitely that. But one of them is dead, and the other cannot speak! We all know nothing of their motives or personalities. And that's a fact.