People form strange tribes. No matter how intense or esoteric the interest, there's an established fraternity, sorority, or secret society of its aberrant connoisseurs and practitioners.
Rocky Horror Picture Show reenactors.
Plushie fetishists. Freemasons. Nazis. The Mid-Atlantic Conference of Albino
Born-Again Vegan Weavers.
Each organization has a recorder, someone whose role
is to be present, document, and distribute information to the group. When a
club's charter is ethically questionable, or markedly vile, one wonders how its
secretary can so passively bear witness. These recruits deserve our contempt
and appreciation: they don't try to stop it, but they amass indefensible
evidence making it harder for inhumanity to repeat itself.
Those un-swatted flies on the walls of history.
