The man who had never heard of Frank Sinatra: he lived A perfectly ordinary life in America. Born in 1915, He followed all the fads, read the newspapers, listened To Television, knew who Dean Martin and Sammy whathisname Were (Sinatra's friends), but somehow, by a one in a Zillion fluke, whenever Sinatra came up, he was out of the room. Or his attention was diverted by something else, and (You will say this is impossible, that it cannot be), never Heard him sing, like a man in my generation who somehow Missed the Beatles though he had heard everything else. Once, just as he was about to hear the name Frank Sinatra A plane flew overhead—he was fifty-five years old—his hearing A little more impaired. He had heard of Humphrey Bogart, Of Elizabeth Taylor, of Walter Cronkite, and of perhaps a hundred Forty thousand other celebrities names by the time he died, And yet he had never heard of Frank Sinatra. The Greeks had That famous saying, "The luckiest man is he who was never born." Which is kind of gloomy, but I think they were wrong. The luckiest man is he who never heard of Frank Sinatra.
If you are a goat, do you believe What people tell you about Goats, and eat Tin cans? There’s no goat that foolish. Or is there? The goat of the universe believed What people told him about universes And came into existence. Bang! How naive can you get? Even the scapegoat is not as naive As (God help him) the universe that Agreed to exist. A word to the wise: Don’t eat tin cans. Don’t listen. Don’t exist.