Recently I had the pleasure of speaking with the larger-than-life, younger-than-that-now, roving correspondent and protege of Mr. Bat Segundo:

Angrist: I would say that my genome had relatively little to do with my psychic ups and downs. And my therapist at one point tried to gently make the case that the whole book was sort of an exercise in acting out and…I don’t know.

Correspondent: You required a therapist to complete the book?

Angrist: …Uh, I required a therapist. Period. (laughs)

Correspondent: Okay. Did your genome require a therapist?

Angrist: Well, probably everyone’s does…But of course, everyone’s doesn’t. I mean, this is one of the things that, being among the first, is…You know, you sit down at a computer and you look at an Excel file full of broken genes. And you think, “You know, I should be dead fifty times over.” But of course that’s a reflection of how little we know and what a redundant system we are.

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