Whosoever may be hurrying to get from one place to another, I shall stand in your way; I shall trip you up; I shall stop on the railroad tracks like some sort of aloof cow; I shall hold your tour bus hostage; I shall delay you; I shall detain you at the border; I shall seduce you; I shall lead you astray...
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Long live all you no-longer-beautiful, tanned, well-dressed fags with faces born to be bashed in by street punks and ten dollar hustlers! Long live Ramon Novarro!
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O mothers and fathers and grandparents of the world: if, while strolling sweetly in the park with your immature loved ones, you should happen to catch a glimpse of two magnificent homo sapiens mating behind yonder bushes, why call away your children or make them cover their faces in shame? Why scream or turn to stone like those unfortunate warriors who gazed upon the terrible visage of the daughter of Pegasus? Why notify the police or the morals unit? ...
Why not rather show a certain tact and maturity commensurate with the wisdom of your years? Why not avail yourself of the opportunity to discourse with your loved ones about the charming and astonishing rituals of love that take place in the animal kingdom—just as if you had come upon two great stallions passionately conjoined? (In so doing, you could perhaps remove your pipe from your genteel mouth and make a gesture that encompasses all the harmonies of Nature, while caressing with your other hand, in a proprietary but affectionate manner, the child’s curly blond locks.)
Why not take it as a good omen?
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