It’s a line lifted from a short poem written by Robert Gray in 1868. “Ignorance is bliss when it is folly to be wise.”Ever fresh, it is an ongoing ponderance, like whether spearmint gum retains its flavor after overnight repose on the bedpost.My Uncle Mort--cocksure of much--seems ever ready to provide answers, sometimes before questions are posed. Yes, his has been a blissful life to date….When he called the other day, he was wired, eager to tell me about his “wackiest” dream ever.Many previous dreams were “wacky,” but the “i-e-s-t” added another dimension. He blamed overeating at dinner, like unto ...