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I must admit that I
do derive a small, well, maybe an enormously large, sense of a
thrill going down my leg when fundamentalists of any religion
are forced to admit they have things that happen to them that
are sinful. With the endless blathering from the
pulpit of how men loving men (or woman licking woman) is a
danger to society, having these bloviating bags of ministerial
farts face their own unintended situations really gives me
wood. A nice hard wood. A wood so hard
that a nun would like to rap it against the hand of a
misbehaving school punk.
I think that even
that smack on the hand gave me wood.
The shape of this
church really doesn't seem too important to me. I'd
never think of a house of worship being shaped like a peen -
unless maybe it was a Catholic Church. I should feel
badly here having gone there with all the unfortunate youth
having been abused by old farts who had their last wet dream
during the Eisenhower administration. But hey, I'm gay,
horny, and admiring the Church of the Perpetual Wood.
The Church is so
quick to go all hell bent and puffy against sex - sex out of
wedlock - masturbation - fornication - sodomy - swallowing - and
positions other than missionary and only for the purpose of
adding a 10th and 11th child.
Many Christians
seem to have an aversion to the peen. Greek and
Roman statues were covered with fig leaves after the fact or had
their members hacked off. It is as if God didn't
create the peen and man suddenly decided after Eve ate that
focking apple that we needed something to pass the time since
we'd be eternally surrounded by vajayjay.
Let us not forget
that Christians - those militant ones with the glazed look of
the couple pictured above, know all about peen - stuffing their
kids with them - sticking it in other mens' wives - sisters -
neighbors - and once a year into their wives. And in
return on their birthdays the wives partake in a little mouth to
peen resuscitation only to spit out the godly seed.
It must be a sin to spit out what could have been the 12th
child.
We should be
thankful as the gays that the Church above does not resemble a
vajayjay - you know that the sanctuary of that would be right in
the middle - the G-spot - the God spot - and the smell coming
from that sanctuary would give new meaning to our Church of the
Bloody Mary. Pass the offering plate and find a nice
used tampax. Bloody hell.
Christians seems
to forget that they once started as a load of semen - gushed
into the channel of some hussey in heat - begging to do me, do
me, do me, and do me deeper. And while sex is
so dirty, when it ends up scoring with an egg and sperm union,
it suddenly becomes a just and proper act of procreation - sex
with forgiveness. A child is born. And
once it became a Christmas Carol.
I have to
disclose that I don't go to Church - Jesus does know my heart
and I do provide him with ample entertainment on a daily
basis. I think he must set his heavenly DVR on my
life because he keeps extending my earthly contract.
But do I think that Jesus would actually sit through two hours
of people dancing, speaking in tongues, and pretending to be
righteous when before and after the ceremonies they beat their
kids, kicked the dog, fornicated in a non-missionary position,
and lusted after their neighbor's new SUV, iPad Air, and iPhone
5?
In the end, I
shall spend a few moments working with the God of Google to
search for this church of the divine erection and the sisterhood
of the dangling plums.
Did you notice
that that church had a nice dark color? Just imagine
that peen once it reaches its full congregational capacity as it
extends its reach into the community to gush with love and gifts
for all.
And who says that
Christians don't have fun? Their problem is that
Christians know they want peen - need peen - and gotta have
peen. They just want to do it in the closet or the
confessional - and so close to God that they can beg his
forgiveness. |
Standing on my chair clapping, UV! Bless you. Meet me under the pulpit with your robes hiked up!
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