
Back inside, as the Meganacle filled for the afternoon session, I again noted the disproportionately high concentration of generally stunning legs under generally very short skirts down in the VIP section toward the front, an area cordoned off from the unwashed masses and reserved for sundry dignitaries like the families of the GAs.
I normally can't sit through an entire Richard Scott talk. The clinically compassionate, imploring tone, coupled with the gradual zoom camera action that begins at normal framewidth but by the end of the speech shows only the bridge of his nose as he begs you to repent, stirs an intolerable sense of guilt in my soul. But today's was for some reason different. I assessed myself against his checklist of marital unity, and found that I failed on every single count except for physical infidelity. But I listened. I may have even learned.
The Robbins talk (cutesy Hamlet intro notwithstanding) on raising children was outstanding. And the choir's closing number was spot-on, but it's that damned old C.S. Lewis conundrum of loathing the sin but not wanting to kill the red lizard altogether.
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