In a complete deadpan - a Superfluous Man

 
You know, Yorick, taking one thing with another, being "like a complete unknown" is hardly the worst among fates to befall one of my aversion to publicity in any form. And starting today, I'm going to tell my associates on The Freeman trying to get hold of me to leave their notes under you rather than that rock - if not quite "folk-rock", eh, Master Zimmerman? - in Central Park I used to use.
From Albert Jay Nock, Memoirs of a Superfluous Man, entrance to one version of which at Scribd carries an adults-only content warning, as well it might: 

When I was about seven, up in New Hampshire where my mother and I were visiting some relatives, a priggish little boy from next-door, reeking with infantile piosity, said to me one Sunday afternoon, "I did not see you in church this morning, I did not." I replied politely, "Didn't you?" As a matter of fact, I had not been there; but I saw no reason for discussing my absence, and I saw one imperative reason for not discussing it. I disliked the sanctimonious little whelp intensely, on general principles - there was that, of course; and it was clearly none of his business where I had been or not been - there was that also. Yet I remember distinctly that these considerations did not move me to the reply I made. I knew the boy and his upbringing well enough to know that if I entered into explanations with him, his invincible ignorance would estop him from understanding a word I said. In like circumstances I would, and always do, make a like reply today, and for the same reason.

"I did not see you tuning up this morning, Bob Dylan, I did not."
"♫ DIDN'T YOU!? ♫"

From the comments at TNR beneath a smackdown by Isaac Chotiner of Imagine: How Creativity Works by Jonah Lehrer, latest entry in that bestselling pestilence of brain-science pop-tarts whose other chart-topping pests include Malcolm Gladwell and David Brooks:

06/14/2012 - 5:02pm EDT | ironyroad

... I agree with arnon on this one; it's easy to judge without having read the book but sometimes one senses that a review has hit the nail firmly and massively on the head.

Dylan put it best himself when asked by a fool reporter how he had come up with the concept of folk-rock. Dylan just looks at the guy for a second or two and then declares "I woke up one morning and said to myself, 'folk-rock'."

It was as polite a way as any of telling the reporter his question was somewhere between clueless and moronic ...

I hit the ball and there it was in the back of the net ... I'm opening a boutique!