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.
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