Deluded foetaholic and perpetual scold, martyred Ste. SUZIE, Our Lady of the UPPER CASE, has packed up her doll clothes and tea set and emerged from her vapour tight cloister. She's taking her virtual collection of micro corpses along on the grand tour. She's currently appearing at stage left, serving up a big heap of bunkum in defense of the crazy lady with the octuplets. In an ideal reproductive culture things would be like this, the semen jet would pull up, hoist that mighty junk to a jaunty angle and issue forth a stream of life giving jag. The blessed emission pours into the waiting carriage and happy white children spring forth, ready to frolic.