The following entry is unapologetically subjective, will be unhelpful to most readers, and represents no definitive settlement of the matter for anyone except possibly myself, and I may even be wrong about that. Though I’m codifying my stance for the sake of never having to revisit this topic again if I can help it, I nonetheless reserve the privilege to change my mind without notice as time gallops forward, life experiences continue accumulating, and the aging process turns me either mellower or more crotchety than ever. I haven’t decided which road to take yet.

(Yes, that’s me front-loading the piece with an unwieldy headline and a nearly irrelevant disclaimer. If I were a film director, I clearly wouldn’t be the breed that insists Act 1, Scene 1 must be all about exploding cars. Between those and this bonus meta-parenthetical, I hereby declare the tone Properly Set.)

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