Tuesday, September 23, 2014

September 23, 2014

September 23, 2014

I loathe brutes. In fact, I’m not a fan of the brute male type at all.  I think all men need to be feminine and rely on wit, a sense of proper fashion, and always be brave when danger arrives at their doorstep.  What is truly a turn-off are brutish men who cry and seek assistance. If there is one thing that really turns my stomach inside out, is the masculine voice crying out for understanding and sympathy.  My first reaction is to reach out for a whip, and not actually touch them with the tool of my trade, but just make them think that there is greater pain out there, and one needs to be tough to cope with it.  In most cases, they just whimper more.

Due to circumstances that are obvious to any person who is under a brain, I had to take up another identity to fight these characters who have no backbone or principals.  The first thing I did was organize a Members of the League, which worked in total secrecy and only answer to me.  The members of great standing are: Pinkie, Dallow, Cubitt, Spicer, and Rose.  We meet once a week at various locations in the Silverlake area of Los Angeles.  Mostly on the property that was once the Coffee Table. I had the business torn down, and kept the basement, which has secret steps, hidden from the steer level, leading to the dungeon.  I call the meeting in order by reciting a poem that I wrote:

“We seek him here, we seek him there,
Those masculine thugs seek him everywhere.
Is he in heaven? - Is he in hell?
That damned, elusive Pimpernel. ”

The Pimpernel is a small plant, with creeping stems and flat five-petaled flower.  That is the reason why i limit the membership to the League to five. The stems start from the flower, but eventually will grow on to attract others in our battle against the brute.   I want everything to be literally attached to the flower itself.  A flower is a wisp of a life that survives in a world that is cruel, and with the pimpernel as its image, we strike back.  We will destroy the brute.  Wherever he may decide to live, or roam, we’ll be there to suck the air out of his lungs.
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