To a person who has been deaf for twenty years, even the braying of an especially obnoxious jackass constitutes beautiful music. To one who has been blinded since birth, the sight of a northbound horse’s south end is breathtakingly gorgeous. To an individual who was born congenitally colorblind, gazing at a bedazzling mallard drake through uber-modern restorative lenses is astonishingly revealing, not to mention lovely. The moral of this story? Relativity reigns supreme, just as it always has and always will. Gray is the only color that really matters and adaptability is paramount. Show me someone whose lifetime creed is absolutism, and I’ll in turn show you the aforementioned south end of a northbound horse and tack that person’s name squarely on the hole in the middle of it.
Fred's Soapbox 