"And do all shelfers talk sense?" said Pavel Petrovich, and his face assumed a distant,
aloof expression, as if he had withdrawn into the clouds.
--------- Fathers and Sons, Ivan Turgenev(modified), Chapter 6.
We have all had the distinct pleasure of experiencing the fustian airs
of Monsieur Binx. It is a shelf rite of passage to be "tut-tutted" in a jocular
way by this great man. We all err. And, rest assured, kind Uncle Binx is
there to mend our ways.
It does appear at times that Binx lacks a humorous bone in his corpus.
But doesn't someone have to correct the little errancies of the rabble. It's
mighty kind of Binx to take it so modestly on his spacious backside. This lack
of humour is his greatest strength. A straitened martyrdom he gladly suffers
for our sakes.
I commend him. Where would we be without such guidance? His actions are not
pas de deux for plaudits. Popularity is not his aim. Accept his superiority and
gain his everlasting esteem. If he so deigns to esteem your ascription of
Aye, all is mystery and pregnant with nuance in Binx's world. We, callow
seekers for the Gold of truth, should bend our backs to Binx's superior
yoke. The Ox never rebels under the yoke of the land's husband. So,
likewise, our Doxies should never rise and question Master Binx's "furrowing".
I timorously await Master Binx's appraisal of this humble piece of praise
in his defense. Dare I even admit he needs a defense!?