As sort of a weekend crafts project, I'm ruthlessly excising useless parts of my personality and restitching the remaining tatters into something small and humble but more useful, like turning a decrepit t-shirt into a cumrag. You can never have enough cumrags. Of course the t-shirt is probably decrepit because you wore it and laundered it so much; its status as a beloved object is what led to its demise. In other words, this is where the analogy breaks down, since this is clearly not the case with me and my personality. Far from being cherished I'd say it's been nothing but trouble, especially when put in situations of duress like for instance being asked a simple question or being depended on for any reason. Many people believe that somewhere underneath the froth of personality there exists in each person a core of selfhood, of unchanging character, the "you" that would persist no matter how much the outer markings of individuality might change due to hard-won personal evolution or sudden brain trauma while riding a Vespa. I believe instead that beneath the gauzy layers of personality each person harbors a black kernel of pure pulsating terror, tiny objects of immense destructive power that I call Quasars of Dread. So you can certainly see why I'd find it preferable to cloak my Quasar of Dread in something, even if it's a cumrag.