The Opinion It is what it is has died from complications arising from what doctors are describing as 'its not what it used to be and never was'. The Opinion had lived a full life of neo-existential, conversation-ending, elliptical vagueness that largely served to wrap up late night bar conversations, most of which, frankly speaking, weren't going anywhere in particular anyway. Often preceded by "Not that we know for sure" the Opinion will be missed by Zen masters and chattering muddlers alike.
Born in a working class neighborhood in a working class city in a working class state, the Opinion spent much of its youth not being what it wasn't until a chance encounter with Timothy Leary tuned it in, turned it on and dropped it out. Exploring the boundaries of what it could have been, all the while experimenting with a variety of hallucinogens which definitely already were, led it to a series of conclusions that "it was and it wasn't" but only relative to its belief that it "could and/or couldn't if it had to" which it didn't. Still unclear as to what "it" was, while despairing of where it was and why it was led it to forget just who it was, all the while fighting deep set feelings of deep set feelings.
The Opinion eventually enlisted in the army, where it was told it could be all that it could be, but soon found out that it already was what it was and didn't want to go beyond that, even if it could. By then it was too late: it had to because it must, even though it didn't want to. The Opinion's military career passed unremarkably, its only moment of note being that it got a tattoo of Popeye saying "I yam what I yam" even though it wasn't what it was, at least not while being all that it could be. It was discharged from the army after doing all that it did, which wasn't enough.
After settling down in Key Biscayne, Florida, it was asked to do a series of promotions for President Clinton's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" program, which was what it was, but shouldn't have had to be what it was. The Opinion declined to provide cover for President Clinton on the grounds that "...asking and telling are what they are and how can they be all that they can be, when they're explicitly told that they shouldn't?" It was the last interview the Opinion was asked to give, and gave it it did.
The Opinion requested that no memorial service be held. Some have speculated that its request belied a deeper, secret wish for anonymity, but friends close to the Opinion have said "It is what it is, or at least what it used to be."
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The Opinuary Column appears Friday afternoons at Jesus' General.
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Cheers!
--Alan