Through the manifestation of the dental holocaust the Divine teaches us to contemplate our teeth as involuntary icons of our identity. Our bite patterns, in the base act of mere eating, in the marks we leave on our lovers, in so tiny an imprint as left on the rim of a styrofoam cup, we leave prints unique to our individual presence. Whether throttled and driven to straightness at the hooks and hands of doctors in white coats, or as naturally crooked as mere nature sketches us, our teeth are indelibly ours, as the unmistakable fearful symmetry in the dentition of the Sky Queen herself.
When the fires of the revolution come to purge the gray earth of the nonbelievers, the teeth will be all that remains of many of the heathens, as well as the faithful brothers and sisters who fall in the contest for enlightenment.
As the wise brother Anon implores us in the books of the Order, "We seek to make every action in our daily lives a devotion to our Great Lady, and pay tribute to Her for sharing Her wisdom. Contemplating the most mundane of tasks one begins to see the patterns that hold our world together."