“His reddish hair is rumpled, but in a deliberate I'm-in-a-boy-band way.”

“It is also true that his hair had a reddish tinge and, as everybody knows, no one with red hair can ever truly be said to be handsome.”

“Remember, Thursday, that scientific thought -- indeed, any mode of thought, whether it be religious or philosophical or anything else -- is just like the fashions that we wear -- only much longer lived. It's a little like a boy band.""Scientific thought a boy band? How do you figure that?""Well, every now and then a boy band comes along. We like it, buy the records, posters, parade them on TV, idolise them right up until --"..."-- the next boy band?" I suggested."Precisely. Aristotle was a boy band. A very good one but only number six or seven. He was the best boy band until Isaac Newton, but even Newton was transplanted by an even newer boy band. Same haircuts -- but different moves.""Einstein, right?""Right. Do you see what I'm saying?""I think so.""Good. So try and think of maybe thirty or forty boy bands past Einstein. To where we would regard Einstein as someone who glimpsed a truth, played one good chord on seven forgettable albums.""Where is this going, Dad?""I'm nearly there. Imagine a boy band so good that you never needed another boy band ever again. Can you imagine that?”

“You went away a little boy in a man's body and you came back the same way, except the man got his hair processed.”

“You and your name-dropping. 'I knew Michael'. 'I knew Sammael'. 'The angel Gabriel did my hair'. It's like I'm with the Band with biblical figures.”

“The living room was still dark, because of the heavy growth of the shrubbery the owner had allowed to mask the windows. I put a lamp on and mooched a cigarette. I lit it. I stared down at him. I rumpled my hair which was already rumpled. I put the old tired grin on my face.”