It’s 1991. In a network studio in New York City, Dark Willard would recite the morning’s evil report.
The map of the world behind him would be a multicolored Mercator projection. Some parts of the earth, where the overnight good prevailed, would glow with a bright transparency. But much of the map would be speckled and blotched.
Over Third World and First World, over cities and plains and miserable islands would be smudges of evil, ragged blights, storm systems of massacre or famine, murders, black snows. Here and there, a genocide, a true abyss.
“Homo homini lupus,” Dark Willard would remark. “That’s Latin, guys. Man is a wolf to man.”
This is a group of nested pages about wolves in the guise of men…