Can I judge a fly for what it is? When in my head, I am angry. As well as the pirates. When in silent solitude they do what their souls are to do, who will object? But they organize façade rallies and tie themselves to the lanterns on the shore, dude in dudes, beat in drums and scream so that everyone knows about their temper – somewhat scratching in the point and scratching in the ass. Indeed, they are worse than flies, for flies only occasionally sin on my head, but pidaras try from day to day to gather in the very center of it. The flies are misunderstood, but the pirates are cold-blooded and conscious.
And then I realize that they do not want to watch each other, but all, and forcibly, and mutual sodomy for them is only a pretext and a cause.

“S.N.U.F.F.” by Victor Pelevin