THE CONFESSION OF A SLOW-WITTED CONTRARIAN
By Akin Ojumu | Originally Published on 28 February 2020 Of the many foibles that beset mankind, some have mercifully failed to sink their claws into some of us. By the grace of Almighty God, we are not dipsomaniacs. Nicotine has never touched our tongues or invaded our lungs. Gluttony has never managed to make us a permanent resident at its table. And philandering, thankfully, does not appear to be encoded in our DNA. But being the mere mortals that we are, our inadequacies are nevertheless as numerous as the stars in the heavens, and our blemishes as plentiful as the sand on the seashore. Our imperfections are not exactly hiding in a closet. They stand there like a lighthouse on a dark coast, visible from several nautical miles away. And while we may have escaped the clutches of alcohol, nicotine, gluttony, and womanizing, there is one vice that has our number. Argument. More specifically, scholarly argument. Cerebral combat. The irresistible urge to question assumptions, interrogate...