And yet the truth can be so richly rewarding that I may as well shout it out.
"I decoded it, I didn't invent it," Mr. Guber said — well, shouted, actually — as the energy of telling lifted him several inches above his seat in the second hour of a conversation about his voyage of discovery.
Eurosnobs might as well shout: "The EPL is bigger and better!" Nativists could respond: "If that's so, then why did Dempsey leave it?" Cue the talk radio call-in number.
"Here, why not confiscate the World Cup as well!" shouted the defender Branco (who was personally importing a fridge, a washing machine, a dishwasher, a television, a microwave and two exercise machines) at one point, waving the trophy at customs officials.
You may well shout and cause a riot.
Now mind you, there are no witnesses because I couldn't very well shout out, "Who just saw me Prick myself?" I would have been sent to the principal for profanity.
And one cannot very well shout from the rooftops that the Brexit is a terrible thing that spells doom for the Europe of Monnet, Adenauer, and Churchill, or plead that Europe and the idea behind it are hanging in the balance, and then pass up a chance, however remote, to prevent the irreparable from occurring.
But Mr. Bloomberg may as well be shouting down an empty well.
Akira Nishimura's "Ketiak" (1979) — the program's most memorable work — is scored for four players who periodically chant (well, shout, really) rhythmic figures that mirror and accent what they are playing on maracas, claves and hand-drums, as well as for a timpanist and a sixth musician who plays chimes.
