No less than forty-two years ago I wrote that only those who were capable of self-excommunication could approach society without fear and remorse (“On the Nonidentity of the Concept,” December 21, 1979). And I declared this piece of writing not only prescient but also prophetic four years ago in connection with my last abode and its few enduring inhabitants (Addendum of August 30, 2017, to “On the Nonidentity of the Concept,” December 21, 1979). After my liberation, though, self-excommunication stretches to every nook and cranny of the planet of my birth, as well as my species entire (“On Liberation,” October 4, 2017). The only fly in the ointment is that I am surrounded by fellow humans till this day, which means that I must keep mum not only about my self-excommunication but also about my indecorous attitudes toward my own species (“Keep Smiling Without a Word,” April 24, 2021). Luckily for me, my writings remain unreadable to nearly everyone who happens to know me or of me, and this is how things are most likely to drag out until I breathe my last breath. Alleluia!