Pt. deux of "Character sadism

So, There I was. Reading "Police Beat." You can always tell when kids have started to get back from spring break. "Three students were referred to the office of the Dean when they were found by officers in a state of extreme intoxication. They had been staring at a wall for ten minutes and were covered in vomit" - This would be an example of a fairly mild day on the job for the beloved campus police. Usually, they have far more serious matters to deal with.http://wc.arizona.edu/papers/96/38/01_50.html
ect... Ad entertainment ad infinitum. Amen.
Sometimes though, the details are uncanny, arouse suspicion, and you relize that they're talking about, perhaps, your very own roomate. Moments like those are to be kept and cherished. Many people dear to my heart have achieved fame and recognition of the PB variety. So, what could have been interesting enough to pluck me out of Beatland?
Well, Soren had just said something to the effect of "Today we will be talking about Alfred Hitchcock". I was excited. I like Hitchcock to a certain extent, but what's more important, I'd actually seen some of his films. What happened over the next few lectures changed the way I think of creating stories. We spent a great deal of time (for lack of a better word) in a psychoanalysis of Hitchcock the Person. We really delved. For example: As a child, for fun, he would sit and map out Bus Tansit maps of London completely from memory. Needless to say, young Alfred didn't have many friends. Many years and fully developed neuroses later, he began to make films. Soren told us how he always made beautiful blonde women objects of suspicion and deception. He lived vicariously through his leading man characters (like Cary Grant) who were handsome and had no problem with either taking or leaving these women. But, he also relished beating these good looking characters to a pulp. (The scene in North by NorthWest where Grant in his nice suit throws him self repeatedly on the rocky, dusty, ground as he tries to escape a cropduster which, as it makes low fly-bys, shoots at him with a machine gun came to mind) Was this his way of getting back at who knows what he believed caused him to have the jowls of a manitee? They weren't imposing regal Churchill jowls either. They rather looked like curtains of fat. Well. How, you may wonder, did this information give me a new perspective on writing? Don't get me wrong, I'm certainly not a misogynist. Nor am I particularly dissappointed with my looks (I've been told that I have "cute lips"). I realized though, that, as a writer, I have complete control over the landscape of my imagination. I can pardon or damn. I can raise from the dead. I can fly. And, I think that, at least for the next little while, I will take a cue from Hitchcock, and relish in my tyranny.