"I say, you!" bawled a fat ox in a stall to a lusty young ass who was
braying outside; "the like of that is not in good taste!"
"In whose good taste, my adipose censor?" inquired the ass, not too
respectfully.
"Why--h'm--ah! I mean it does not suit _me_. You ought to bellow."
"May I inquire how it happens to be any of your business whether I
bellow or bray, or do both--or neither?"
"I cannot tell you," answered the critic, shaking his head
despondingly; "I do not at all understand it. I can only say that I
have been accustomed to censure all discourse that differs from my
own."
"Exactly," said the ass; "you have sought to make an art of
impertinence by mistaking preferences for principles. In 'taste' you
have invented a word incapable of definition, to denote an idea
impossible of expression; and by employing in connection therewith the
words 'good' and 'bad,' you indicate a merely subjective process in
terms of an objective quality. Such presumption transcends the limit
of the merely impudent, and passes into the boundless empyrean of pure
cheek!"
At the close of this remarkable harangue, the bovine critic was at a
loss for language to express his disapproval. So he said the speech
was in bad taste.