Like Socrates, who took a mischievous delight in shocking squeamish people by the homeliness of his illustrations, and the platness of his diction, Jesus indulged over and over again in popular imagery and language of the plainest sort.

The Women's Lib underground biweekly It Ain't Me, Babe, put out by six young women who are all cartoonists and all mad at male cartoonists who draw women as nags, vultures, or dumbies.

(narrower terms)

I felt so misplaced at that party last night.