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(Pictured: John Cho, who on second thought, probably would make a good Remy if for some freak reason this was ever filmed)

Remy was a misanthrope. He hated all things of men.

He hated their money and worship of it. He hated their trappings of wealth and leisure. He hated the way they walked about, upright and erect, noses in sky, oblivious to all below them. He hated how men treated women, like maids or sex toys or mothers or all three. But he most of all hated how men treated themselves and others like them. He hated how they ate hastily prepared meals of burnt flesh, slavered in grease and bread. He hated the soda, the beer, the blatant sexism and the closeted homoeroticism. He hated the boorishness, the vulgarity, the way they plodded through life with a bovine equanimity, society being that endless, grassless hill in the dairy ghettos of Chino. It was there those who were fat and getting fatter dined in the never-ending trough filled with the remains of their dead comrades, now ground up and mixed in with apathy and ignorance.

How could he eat when he knew what the food was made of? It made him want to vomit.

— From “The Misanthrope”

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