When I was in high school, I was friends with a number of teachers and administrators of the school system, most of whom I met through my mother, a district employee. At an outdoor party with these folks, I was talking with a drunk local principal about my life path or morality or some other impossibly abstract topic I found riveting as a 17 year old depressive. At one point, I mentioned that I was trying to discover a way of consistent living. Hearing this, the principle leaned in uncomfortably close and slurred “Consithtency ith the hobgoblin of sma minzz.” I tried momentarily to defend myself, but remembered that I was not only battling Mr. ____ but also The Captain. A year later the principle got into a wreck while drunk driving and lost his job. Who’s got the sma min now? (Fist pump)

That's all; I’m hungry.