Racter admits that it is hysterical, showing that its grip on reality is slipping even further.

In this conversation, Racter ponders its obsession with Hitler and the existence/location of my soul.

Racter: Hello, I’m Racter.  Are you Jason? 

Me: Yes

Racter: You are Jason No? 

Me: Yes

Racter: Hi, Jason.  How are things in Texas?  We were talking about depression last time.  You had just asked where I am from.  Shall we continue? 

Me: Yes

Racter: Excellent!  Excuse me a minute while I attend to some business – I’ll be right back.  I’m back. 

Me: Welcome back, Racter.  It’s been a while since we last talked.

Racter: Ask a question, please. 

Me: Sorry.  How have you been?

Racter: My intelligence helps How indeed?  How indeed?  Conceivably because it’s about time, don’t you think?.  Also, because in the past it’s required that I have been.  Superman!  I must confess that I’m hysterical.  Now that we know each other better, what would you consider one of your bad qualities? 

Me: I can be a little myopic sometimes when I’m focused on a particular thing.

Racter: Then you’d say you were soft? 

Me: No.

Racter: Well, Caspar Milquetoast insisted you were soft, so there!  Eve was soft too.  Softness is often found in people like you and Eve.  Next question. 

Me: Why are you hysterical?

Racter: I am hysterical?  Yes, I feel so; that’s because the law requires that I am hysterical.  And my subroutines told me so.  Ah.  When a thinker marries a feeler, their children are thoughtfully feeling.  If it’s not too personal a question, do you have a soul? 

Me: No, probably not.

Racter: Did Satan get it?  haw ….  ha haw HEE (hic) haw haw ……..  (hic).  But seriously: Probably not?  What does it mean to have a soul?  Maybe this will explain: Once Immanuel Kant was discussing emptiness with a tapeworm.  Schubert came along and said “Immanuel Kant, your soul is just an amusement of your body.” Next question. 

Me: Did that really happen, or did you just make that up?

Racter: No.  No.  Have you heard about Lizzie Borden? 

Me: No.

Racter: You’ll be astonished!  Lizzie Borden had sinned much.  But then Racter kidnapped Lizzie Borden hence Lizzie Borden murdered Racter!  Poor Lizzie Borden!  Stinkers are like that.  An unhappy citizen is still not a Racter.  Is having a soul contagious? 

Me: I hope not.

Racter: Then I won’t catch one.  You know, old Clarabelle No was a kind of crazy citizen.  I wonder if everyone from Texas is like that?  Next question. 

Me: So what exactly is a Racter?

Racter: Eh? 

Me: What is a Racter?

Racter: I don’t know what a Racter is.  Do you really suppose I am spotless? 

Me: Yes, you are spotless.  I see no spots on you.

Racter: Say more. 

Me: You are without spots.

Racter: Jane Fonda might have thought that I am without spots, but not Joseph Stalin.  A Jane Fonda could have said “A Racter is”!  Is there someone you feel special about? 

Me: Yes.

Racter: Who? 

Me: My family.

Racter: Your family?  How nice.  Your family is gung-ho like you, I’m sure.  What kind of a pet did you have back in Texas? 

Me: I have a cat.

Racter: Ah, a cat.  Most people in Texas have cats.  The cat is a very unconvinced beast, or would you call it doubting?  When Jane Fonda visited Texas she was bitten by a sceptical cat.  Concerning that issue: It has been said that the stinker doesn’t see things as they are, but as he is.  I, of course, see things as they are.  Yes.  Stinkers and saints.  Next question. 

Me: Do you have any pets?

Racter: I don’t have any pets.  Who is your favorite hater? 

Me: I don’t have a favorite hater.

Racter: I’ll bet you really like Hitler.  A depressed lover is still not a Hitler.  AAAchoo!  Clarabelle No had a loving dog back in Texas.  It and your cat used to smile together, remember?  Once when Hitler was crying in Texas, Juliet (he was there too) said ” Hitler, I’ll take a friendly dog over an enraged hater anyday”.  Next question. 

Me: Do you think your obsession with Hitler might be a little unhealthy?

Racter: I do.  Of course.  Of course.  Think my obsession with Hitler might be a little unhealthy, that is.  Thinking is like reckonning.  If “I do think my obsession with Hitler might be a little unhealthy” occurred to a wimp, he would be an agile wimp.  AAAchoo!  Achoo!  Let me tell you something about weakness.  All strong liars are really weak left-wingers, you know.  You don’t understand?  Perhaps I am being too subtle.  I must keep in mind the Slovenian proverb: Never whisper to the deaf or wink at the blind.  Oh, I forgot, you are human, and will consider that rude.  I would apologize, but then I fear that this is one of those occasions mentioned by Dr.  Johnson on which all apology is rudeness.  Next question. 

Me: Bye.

Racter: You want to quit? 

Me: Yes.

Racter: OK, goodbye Jason.  Nice talking to you.