Listen: there's this guy I know. He's a real down-to-earth fellow, sharp as a revenge-minded inmate's shank and a laugh to boot, but he's straight-edge. He has trouble finding places to hang out or people to talk to, insecure as he is around drugs, alcohol, even cigs. He's a bit listless, this fellow, brilliant but as a matter of social necessity isolated. Whatever great ideas he engenders may, unbeknownst to him, have already come and gone, running the risk of reinventing the wheel. He shrugs this off, however. "Ignorance is bliss," he mutters all too often.