There's a story about the guy who took a long journey to far away lands, where he met interesting people and had many adventures. He started out as a young idealist, and halfway through his journey he lost his faith through sickness and suffering, but in the end he returned home with a greater appreciation for both the follies of mankind, and the compassionate nature of the human imagination. To the end of his days he held what he experienced in the precious cave of his heart, or the bottomless pit of his head. Or, until his last breath in the cottage his great grandparents built on Cape Cod, in fall, he was still mad at the soiled parking lot attendant at the Mungo Street Parking Garage. Or, rather, in Arizona he only imagined once being insulted in the Mungo Street Parking garage -- he got the memory of this from a story told to him by a drunk friend at Callahan's or Bruno's or The Italian Village or whatever that bar was at 3 o'clock in the morning, in Chicago. CM Evans Cartoons
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