An idiot 63-year-old Marxist of my acquaintance is just convinced that "thanks to Obama" he's finally going get knee surgery he claims to have needed for years to relieve the pain he's been experiencing. I have a feeling he doesn't know just how much more pain he's going to have to endure, but keep waiting, jerk.
The skeptic is never for real. There he stands, cocktail in hand, left arm draped languorously on one end of the mantelpiece, telling you that he can't be sure of anything, not even of his own existence. I'll give you my secret method of demolishing universal skepticism in four words. Whisper to him: "Your fly is open." If he thinks knowledge is so all-fired impossible, why does he always look? — James Sire (from, The Universe Next Door)