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It is not just movies (http://come-to-think.livejournal.com/5669.html; https://come-to-think.dreamwidth.org/5780.html) that engage my confabulation mechanism.  Casual researches have revealed that I was harboring utterly false versions of recent history:

Musical chairs in San Francisco: Harvey Milk was the mayor.  Dan White, the chief of police, had resigned to run against Milk.  When Milk won, White asked for his job back, and Milk refused him, so White killed Milk.

Only English counts: Salman Rushdie originally wrote & published The Satanic Verses in Arabic.  It was reviewed in the Arabic-language press (including that of Iran) -- mostly unfavorably, but with no threats against the author.  Only when it appeared in English was there widespred indignation culminating in Khomeini's fatwa.  Furious threats were made to prevent the book's appearing in paperback.  I actually believed this incredible story, and remembered it as having appeared in a serious magazine article.  I can find no trace of it on the Web.  (Perhaps it was true of some other book?)
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I am tired of being reminded, again and again, of things I am ashamed of.  I never live anything down -- showing off, giving offense, being involved in conflict, whether justified or not  -- and the memories of such things have priority access to my association paths, no doubt rendering my more stupid than I would otherwise be.  On being reminded of them, I twitch, call myself names, and wish I were dead.  Eventually, I am likely to escape into fantasies of rudeness.

Here is the earliest one I can remember; I must have been about 10, so, more than 60 years ago.  I was talking about chemistry with another boy, and I was showing off my knowledge of a long word, "phenolphthalein", by asking him if he knew how to spell it.  In doing so, I mispronounced it ludicrously, so that he asked mildly "Is that how you pronounce it?".

There are hundreds of such memories, all filed for instant retrieval.  It does no good to say to myself that other people get away with far worse outrages, because what I used to call "my unsane subconscious" (Korzybski + Freud) retorts, in effect, "You are different.  You are only pretending to be human, so you have to be much more careful.  Pretense must be more perfect than performance.  Once people see thru your bluff, the game is up."  That is almost certainly not so, but it is hard to disprove.

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November 2022

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