I'm going to leave the stix for tomorrow because I'm working in an office at the moment and I often draw stuff I find funny when I'm in offices, or maybe it's just the sleep deprivation and caffeine intoxication that make me find it funny. I tried some psychosurgical ASMR whispering, though, and I think it came out OK for a first try with the built-in MacBook microphone. I need to slow down even further, though, which is unfortunate because it was almost physically painful for me to speak this slowly. I think I still sound too urgent.
What you'll hear me saying (twice) is one sentence from a 1947 article by Walter and his first partner in lobotomy, hotshot neurosurgeon James Watts. This happens to be the same year the two of them broke up in part because Watts didn't share Walter's enthusiasm for frontal lobotomy; he liked the prefrontal, holes-in-the-head kind. There was also the fact that Walter could do the frontal kind himself and suddenly didn't need Watts anymore. So far I haven't been able to form an opinion about which of them dumped the other -- Watts because Walter was doing a procedure that was slipshod and encroached on territory that had previously been forbidden to mere psychiatrists, or Walter because he was sick of Watts's incessant draping and autoclaving and "all that germ crap," as he called it, when they could have poked, like, six brains by now. But an interview with James Watts from the seventies reveals a touch of the resentful nostalgia I'd expect from the dumped party: "I don't use the word brilliant or genius very often, but he bordered on both of them."
Anyway, let my voice lull you into some kind of soothing nightmare.