What a nightmare! Woke up in a cold sweat, screaming, and clutching my privates with both hands. Tutor, in my dream, had his "bovver boots" on and was kicking me as I curled up in a fetal position naked behind the Dumpster at the Corner of Wealth and Bondage. Apparently, I must have called myself wise, or a wise counselor to the world's wealthiest, or some such hokum, because Tutor was shouting, "You miserable sack of manure. You call yourself wise? If you were wise, you moron, you would keep your wisdom to yourself. If you were wise, would anyone in their right mind work with you? A word to the wise, Jackass, 'Speak truth in parables, and you may live to your next client engagement.'"
For the record: I don't think I have ever made the rookie error of calling myself wise, except as joke, or in a satirical way, to illustrate a Fool who thinks he is Wise, but if I have ever on this blog or in person given anyone the impression that I really am such a blockhead, as to consider myself wise, please accept my heartfelt apology. I had no intention of misleading you. I assumed all along that you can see I am Fool. Do I have to spell it out in my client engagement letter? Sign here. "I recognize and acknowledge that I am taking moral advice from a world class Fool. Signed. ________ A Rich Fool."