Oedipal Edacity

Did I say he was old? Well I was mistaken. The man in the hat is no age, he is ageless, neither one nor a hundred and one. Age tells us nothing, nothing other than we know so little about anything and all things at all. What we know or what we pretend to know (fakers, all of us, shame, shame on us) means nothing, not a thing. All this fakery and dimwittedness is tiring, alchemy without strings or a green-board to project images onto. We beginning with a false premise; erect a theory on it and then switch on the camera obscura: shadow play and shamming, nothing more than dimwitted stupidity, Oedipal Edacity. Did I say I was mistaken? Well perhaps I am just too old, decrepit and dimwitted to know the difference between a pure thought and a green-board.