Watching the watchers

Now that ceaseless violence has calloused us to the lewd and vulgar, it's instructive to see what still seems wicked to us. What still slaps the clammy flab of our submissive consciousness hard enough to get our attention?

An exposition of Torture Instruments cannot fail to appeal to a connoisseur of the worst in mankind.

But the essence of the worst, the true asafoetida of the human spirit, is not found in the Iron Maiden or the whetted edge.

Elemental Ugliness is found in the faces of the crowd.