You see what you do is, you make puppets that only yield to the peeny, for there is only one true puppet master pulling the throbbing strings, and boy does it ever become so fickle; spending its days dreaming, dreaming of pickle brine, the sweet tang. You may become confused by its majesty but its bewitching and awe inspiring splendours cannot be denied, only repressed. To be endowed with such a phallus, one could die happy, if one could die.