Sorry. I was making a (bad) allusive joke. In Stephens' "The Crock of Gold," the Philosopher returns home to have hos wife say that she hopes his oatmeal "has lumps in it." He responds: "Perfection is finality, finality is death, nothing is perfect. There are lumps in it." Secondly, at the end of Billy Wilder's "Some like it hot," Jack Lemmon tells Joe E. Brown that they can't get married because "I'm a boy!" To which Brown replies: "Well, no one's perfect."