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Well you had to be there. You had to know and even love somebody in that boyhood way that teenagers know each other, to a certain depth of intimacy. Then you had to watch your friend pretend to be other than what he was, and take on a character, you knew had nothing to do with his family, not his mother, or father, or brother, just to woo some rich pussy.
This is the tinsel under the other tinsel to the point that there is nothing there but various desires which should have been modeled on themselves rather than coded, coated, masked as some alternate shape or universe.
Ever heard of a con artist? I actually admired the psychological skill of pretend that B exercised over his targets. It was a phenomenon. And it made him rich, eventually.
CG