Here, perhaps I ought to stop.

Look thou no further, but affix thine eye/On that bright, shiny, round, still moving mass,/The house of blessed gods, which men call sky,/All sow'd with glist'ring stars more thick than grass...

The little queerosexuals with their uncombed hair and eyeliner would have had their asses kicked back when I was in school so how the hell did they end up with a girlfriend.

a rulemaking body