At 51 years of age, I have stopped chasing my tail, now granting it repose where it belongs - behind me, where I cannot see it, where it retains its originally intended usefulness rather than serving as a tireless encumbrance. The tail at its worst is, of course, the false promise of that which already belongs to you; the devaluation of that which is hard to put a price on (you try losing it); the very thing which is designed to enable you to look forward not back - while it covers you from behind. But at its best it is the perfect completion of the whole... clear in its purpose albeit taking up position in the rear. So now I just swish in whatever manner the situation demands, press f...