Hands separated my ass cheeks while some pervert rimmed my puckered brown starfish.

Mr. Blaine's powers and disposition shone resplendent. . . . the gavel in his practised hand, chiming in with varied tones that aptly enforced his words, from the sharp rat-tat-tat that recalled the House to decorum, to the vigorous thunder that actually drowned unparliamentary speech; rulings, repartee, translucent explanation flashing from his lips as quick as lighting.

We need to test this idea empirically instead of just speculating about it.

[…] that people must needs be madd or strangely infatuated, that build the chief hope of thir common happiness or safetie on a single person […]