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View Diary: The Long Slow Stain of Mimicry (57 comments)

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  •  There was once a young man (1+ / 0-)
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    Seneca Doane

    quite smart who wanted to get ahead. But he was lazy. So instead of writing his own life, he copied one from a prince. Just as the prince rose from poverty to rule a mighty empire, so did pour young man. But being an imitator rather than a real-lifer, he never got the feel of being an emperor. He just played at one, letting his sycophants run the empire. Down.

    Soon arose a revolution. The young man was overthrown. The guillotine, he faced. The moment arrived- : he put his head down on the wooden block. The swish of the blade. His head, still thinking and seeing, pops out, looks down on the stain of blood on the floor. His last thought was, 'the long stain of mimicry runs crimson!'

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