A Retort To The Accuser Of The Brethren
“We warn you.”
- One of The Imbecile’s gender.
When The Adversary plunders of me most brilliant works that cannot be replicated due to the level of genius and inspiration it took to produce them, when he destroys with The Utmost in Cunning works that would equal the best in profound genius, when he twists and alters and perverts the words of works that took not only the labour of sweat but also the genius of inspiration to produce, The Imbecile referred to above does not raise a single finger — does not warn that Justice will one day prevail. But all because I am to write an assignment as a Master of Business Administration student of the University of Suffolk, I have to be warned by The Imbecile not to plagiarise!
Most Imbecile, were I to be in the habit of plagiarising, I would not be so proud of my words — to that extent where I know them as the children that I will never have of flesh and blood. Get that straight between your ears! For the likes of you are just too Dead-Brained to realise that, with the extent to which thou has destroyed my life, with the extent to which thou has destroyed all that is both privacy and personal space to me — to that extent where even thoughts and dreams emanating from my sub-conscious mind are subject to thy heartless scrutiny — you have absolutely no right to accuse me of either crime or sin, even were you to catch me red-handed with my fist in the cookie jar.
Dead-Brained Retard, what right have you to accuse me of any misdeed; when over two decades of my life have been spent being pummelled by the likes of you into becoming the most martyred man in history? Or hast thou absolutely no conscience whatsoever? That the likes of you should open her disgusting mouth — all reeking with the stench of the decayed blood of her past victims — to warn me on television against plagiarising, when it was on a channel like unto that very same television channel that members of your ilk came out to brag of having plundered of me works of mine so valuable to me I know them as my children.
You go and warn your ilk, Woman! It was your like — a member of thy deranged gender — that destroyed also the career of the most talented musical entertainer that the world has ever known. On both of the two occasions that Michael Jackson was accused of sleeping with under-aged boys, it was from a woman that both of the accusations sprang forth. Damned and Accursed gender — cursed ever from the days of her ancestress, Eve — you will not destroy my life, because I will have absolutely nothing to do with you. He who pleases GOD escapes you. I will please my Creator, and I will escape thy heart of snairs and nets, and thy hands of fetters.
Until you can dig up enough justification for your warning, you keep your warning to yourself. When I get to work two hours late — or worse — and neither my boss nor my colleagues can raise a word of protest, it is because they have absolutely no justification; what with the pittance that I’m paid with, what with the luxurious jeeps they all drive, what with the mansions they’ve all built. I don’t believe I need say any more. You even now have an iota between thy ears that is enough to perceive a hint. So you go and search very well for all due justification before you begin to warn me against any misdeed. Imbecile!
