I'd said that studying brain function and working with brain-damaged people had led me to certain views about the nature of personal identity; that neuroscience had no place for the soul; that the human brain was a storytelling machine, and that the self was a story.
I said that our deepest intuitions about what it means to be a person are based on an illusion. There is no inner essence, no ego, no observing 'I', no ghost in the machine. The story is all and, moreover, the story is enough.
Being raised by persons of a European wine sensibility, I was often allowed a little of the wine with dinner in my youth.
This may have backfired when I took Catholic first communion. On the way back down the aisle, in my virginal white and presumably sacred thoughts, I whispered to my father in shocked undertones, "That wine was *terrible*!"