Yet another benevolent mindfuck from the wallet of Hagbard Celine. People who need this card base their identity on the thing they are against. Much of american politics is based on this principle.

See There is no friend anywhere for further explication.

She said she saw the enemy coming, and I can't say it's X-ray specs or something sadder, a marathon run of Nazi newsreels, that gives her to watch my life in black and white. There are, not here, any kings or knights or bishops, nothing black, nothing white: there are, in this game, colors, and patterns, and hope as often as hurt. I do not even mind losing tonight. I think she thinks she heard the enemy running, and woke me up to say so, as if I had a deathwish. I don't want to tell her how I feel about the wolf, inside and outside the sheepskin he wears. She wouldn't believe I'm not his prey; rather, I crave the taste of dying men, and I want to fly without fear someday, over the piles of bones I leave; she would not believe I'm the worst of it this time, wizened and mean, more than strong enough to break a man before I break. She ought to teach me to fear myself.

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