Why would anyone resist living in denial? In denial, I am tall and thin and my hair always looks great. Also, my nose is just like Nicole Kidman’s, but better.
In denial, the snow fluttering past my office window is not accumulating on my car, and my car will never die (nor will I, for that matter).
In denial, all the coffee I drink is good for me.
In denial, it’s only a matter of time before the American citizenry collectively storms Capitol Hill and drags the Bush League out of the West Wing, unanimously declaring Bill Clinton (or Colin Powell or Oprah Winfrey or Jon Stewart or Big Bird) in charge “at least ’til we figure out what the heck our foreign policy is.”
In denial, all of my students will have epiphanies in their sleep the night before the exam, and awake with fresh, permanent insight that allows them to coherently analyse literature without any comma splices or sentence fragments.
In denial, the approximately 125 papers on my desk were magically marked by the Grammar Gnomes overnight, and this morning I can relax, put on some perfectly legal tunes, and catch up on my reading.
Sigh.