ANTIREPRESENTATIONALISM REVISITED Like Will of old, I sometimes curse my fate wishing me like to one more rich in any talent -- any art, any scope -- but mostly in the ability to hold a word to just one meaning. Every time I start to think, my words, the very bricks of my argument with which I to build the ineluctable wall of closely reasoned reason, suddenly all get spongy, start absorbing meanings I've never meant before, changing shape into mockeries of me. Oh, my closely reasoned walls, how you fall like Jericho's to the horns of ambiguity. Men more keenly seeing keep their words in line, like military marching. Were I only like them, then might I not my self go despising. "Doth List exact clear thinking of muddy minds?" I fondly ask, But laziness to prevent that murmur soon replies: (yeah, yeah, I know that's Milton) "Do you think it matters to Paris Hilton how closely reasoned your lack of money is?" Alas, she's not interested in Plato or NATO or even Play Dough, which is the only kind of dough you have, Jack. Well, OK, then. Mike Geary Memphis