Prepare the funeral pyre, he’s nearing death. Well, not death exactly. But he is wasting invisible. It will be a small fire. Just a match. You see it? Of course you don’t. What you do not see is a man slowly shrinking into irrelevancy. No? Too, something? How about gradually gaining in irrelevancy. Better? Good. I don’t mean to, you know. I’m merely holding the mirror, can I help that it is pointing toward nature? But while we’re here, let us gaze and see just how lapses are condoned, and what might not have flown as an ugly duckling is now spreading swan wings and beating the air. This is how one goes from respectability to a bloody awful farce. You want to change it, do you? Then get in on the joke.