One becomes one's cant, after peer-approval wends its way through the endorphins and begins to look a lot like Right-eous-ness cha cha cha.
(But no, I doubt they inhabit the same corporeal locus of points; not that such details matter a lot in mind-space)
I recall (just before MEGO struck me er, My Eyes Gla..) Gramma's stare of Certitude, so indistinguishable from Fuck Everybody [Not Like Me], natch. She didn't notice my 'state' - so I could observe the
(WTF - it got me an A+ on a psych paper; beats turning True Believers into Soylent Green. Doesn't it?)
Ashton A Crank's Curmudgeon LLC