I knew a man who wore his little mother on a chain ’round his neck. You might say she had pierced ears. Often she would turn around in rage and bite him, but due to the fact that he had tied her little hands behind her back, her teeth couldn’t harm him. As can be expected, this strange behaviour of his did not prevent him from adopting all the newest philosophies of the day. Indeed, this fellow even claimed to be what is called a “Women’s Libber.” So eloquent was he on this subject that he was regarded as something of a saint. Yet, even as he spoke, even as he decried aloud the centuries of cruelty and injustice to women, he would raise his hand to his chest as though in religious gesture and begin to pinch his little mother. He did this so that her tiny screaming might add fuel to his rhetoric. On those nights when he did not bring liberated women home to fuck, he would untie her long enough for her to call him an ungrateful bastard. “I’m sorry, mother,” he would say serenely, “but whatever I am, you have made me. Now go and do your business.” After she had done her business, he would clothes-peg her little legs together so he could get to sleep.