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We surge from our classy kennel, unafraid,  while baying at impotent shadows, in a pack gladdened by confraternity, eagerly bonded to respond to all calls for mutual aid and succour. Plucked as the best ripe fruit to suit an elite palate, we treat each other to promises of grooming in the natural leadership of men, sent on our way with the blessings of divine right. Like white peacocks parading on the social scene, we preen our pale feathers with languid grace, facing down all lesser species with baffling affability - effortless in lordly charm.      Since status has been writ within the stars,      you others must accept the world is ours!