Coitus, mortals! Welcome to the Ramblings of Aristoprophanes, once-satiriser of Kings and Philosophers,
now reduced to his trash-can domicile and generally vagrant dog-companion, Pericuriousalivates.
Aristoprophanes's favourite music is Death Metal, because it reminds him of the sound of the Ionian Conch.
Within these pages you will find pieces of immaculate conception, ye, the bubbling of Muse's brook unto the
hinterlands of Metis's temples (his skull, I mean). If I should be so coarse as to hold recourse to my pedigree,
let it be known and seen, that ever the envy of Athens was I, never the sport of Sparta; in Thebes they called
me Theos, in Thrace I was known as Thrasher. Before an old man, a valiant warrior; a most potent vintner;
a mild merchant; a spinner of tales; a lover of women - and a pox on those boy-men, who take boys as men
and make of them brides!
Heracles and Pericles alike sat at my table, I fed them milk; so too Socrates and Anaximenes, I fed them honey.
But when that bastard Draco came, promising gifts and gold for good speech and wise counsel, I told him to
get, for there is nothing worthwhile in the idle circles of politics, when the breasts of men are narrow and
their backs bowed and bent.
Then to Lycurgus I turned, and said "Lo, behold the overman, for he is with thee and is thee: and from thy
seed and the seed of thy kinsmen shall come a race of bold warriors, unmatched, who will usurp all Greece until
the coming of the Ram."