f course, I was fortunate to have Doctor Coffee, the world's greatest living doctor, lending his support and his immense credibility to the project. Over the years, he had become world famous for always stopping right in the middle of some complex brain surgery, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a thick wad of bills, peeling off a few, and waving them at one of the assisting doctors to run and get a couple of Twinkies, a Coke, and a softpack of Marlboro Lights -- then slipping his mask back up and saying something like, "Oh yeah, right -- now where was I?" 2 Then somebody violated the innocence taboo, or committed conspiracy to violate the innocence taboo. And, of course, I was arrested, tried, and convicted of being the mastermind and perpetrator, even though I'd been in some other galaxy when it happened, and had the Supreme Court and the Pope as witnesses to prove it. For my crime, I was sentenced to no longer be allowed any suspension of disbelief whatsoever, in relation to my actions and my being. And I was also denied the suspension of all perception and cognition -- both everybody else's as well as my own. And without such suspensions, of course, I could not even begin to think about even pretending to exist.