Verily, it is with great chagrin that I find myself once again rising from my dusty tomb ‘neath the rolling green pastures of Williamstowne. While I had, as always, set the alarm-clocke to end my astral slumber for October the 31th, the highly celebrated holiday known in my time as All’s Hallow’s Eve–an occasion of great revelry for me as I harass, possess and otherwise torment young children engaged in their petty, and, may I say indulgent, tradition of harvesting sugars–I instead awoke early, risen by the clamor and fervor over the arranged visit of a Ms. Venker, a correspondent of the news amalgamation syndicate known as Foxxe.
I had to do some reading to catch-up, I must admit, as many of the terms and vernacular in this current discourse were unknown in my time. Chief among this sordid lexicon is this word I hear now thrown about my campus more readily than a flying disk: “Feminism”, as it were. Since I am now awake, and my only preparations for the upcoming Holiday include wrapping myself in bloodied chains, I decided I would take this time to comment on these issues and use my wise-dom and experience from o these many centuries to put an end to this frivolous debacle.
I imagine a puerile young Williams pupil, face flushed from a vigorous afternoon of Greek grammar study and solitary masturbation, asking me with great urgency: “O Ephraim, what-ever would you do in such troubled times? How would you respond to this dilemma, in which Goody Venker, claiming for herself the Feminist title, is objected to speak by other pupils claiming the very same?”
My answer, and it is simply the only sound answer to such issue, would be to find the coarsest twine in all the Townshippe and wrap them all taught around the Towne stake, setting them ablaze whilst the student body reads from their favorite selection of Psalms. Perhaps it is this climate of so-called “political correctness” I hear so much about in my ghostly gentlemen clubs, but it is truly beyond me that I am the first to call out these deviants for what they are – witches, servants of Lucifer sent to my Campus to disrupt and distract the otherwise studious and sexually celibate young men.
O, yes, they had many names in my time, too – I pray, get me not started on the issue of those rapscallion “suffragettes” – and “feminism” is merely their latest attempt to infiltrate my Townshippe, long prized throughout the Western Commonwealth as “Witch-Free, since 1793!” So be done with the issue with a good burning, and let me pupils rest easy fearing not for their manhood, their masculinity, nor their souls.
Well, I hear I am now being summoned by that fopdoodle Lord Jeffrey, as it is nigh upon my turn at the Billiards table. I’ve hustled him out of countless bitcoin over the past three years, and any opportunity for more humiliation I can hardly pass up. Be Well, o Williamstowne, and look for me on All’s Hallows Eve – I’ll be the sexy looking ghost in chains.
Sincerely, His Lordshippe the Very Great Ephraim Williams