I make this claim boldly, though as all of you know by now, I have never supped of maturity myself. I simply rely on the expertise of my betters who have visited the halls of grown-up-itude, however unwillingly or briefly, and am assured that my current Peter Pan flight plan will serve my needs and interests far better than the perhaps morally uplifting or civically productive ones others pursue. Sorry, world. What you see is undoubtedly what you’ll get.
Still, I flatter myself (another of my peculiarly abundant gifts) that many of my true role models, from my esteemed pater on out to remoter avatars like, yes, S. J. Perelman, have made careers and lives out of similarly irresponsible seeming stuff and yet managed in the greater scheme of things to have marvelous adventures out of those lives and careers, and even influenced others so to do. While I have no delusions of my own future grandeur based on their successes, I at least think of them as a partial excuse.