image. And this they do. They are the custodians of the public morals,
meaning the protectors of the huge trick mirror out of which the
complexes, neurasthenias, and morbid fears of the public stare back at
it in the guise of Virtue, Honor, Decency, and Love. These custodians
are also, to leap into the denouement, the censors here under
discussion; censors not only tolerated but insisted upon by the people
to annoy and harass them and inspire them to further ballot
flagellations in order that they, the people, may be spared the
disaster of discovering themselves different from what two hundred
centuries of self-idealization have driven them into believing
themselves to be.

This, the high priests do. In every village, hamlet and farm they have
their say. They chastise. They make things fit for decent people to
see or wear or drink, and people flattered to death at the idea of
being considered decent submit piously to the distastement
infringements and taboos.

All-powerful are the censors. But despite this all-powerfulness they
labor under a wretched handicap. They are stupid. Stupidity is the
paradox to be found most often in all-powerful Gods. They are stupid,
the censors. And the Devil is clever. The Seven Arts which are the
Seven Incarnations of Dionysius, the Seven Masks of an unrepentant
Lucifer, elude them in the horrific struggle. Or at least partially
elude them. Occasionally a cloven hoof is spied and sliced to the
bone.

* * * * *

We return now with proud and tranquil ease to the beginning of this