Ulysses S. Grant's mandate to make the Shenandoah Valley so desolate that crows flying over it would have to carry their own provender
This is my 'affections' towards those who think they can contend with this Devil about to free himself of the shackles of banality-the social consciousness of Omaha.
I am approaching that moment of 'fait accompli' at which I have the time to give full expression and testament in my assault upon the idiocies by which people make excuses for their ways of being. There will not be a sacred cow left standing. There will not be a sanctuary for fallacies. There will not be a flock to hide in or use as a rhetorical counter-weight. There will not be an argument that can stand on its own logic. Like Grant ordered Sheridan to do to the Shenandoah, like Sherman did on his march to Savannah, I will leave the protagonists of these dogmas of fallacies in ruin. Their reason smashed and crumbled in my wake, as they can only gnash their teeth and curse me as if I was Satan,himself. I will be their Anti-Christ, antithesis that will leave them in bitter regret that they ever engaged in the hubris and arrogance of seeking the submission and suppression of honesty and truth that I will champion.
