TRUE MODERN MARTYRDOM

Unlike many a great Republican stalwarts I have never watched Muslim decapitation videos while panting and drooling, nor been thrilled by carpetbombing documentaries. Nor do I look for Ukraine or Gaza massacres on the internet while chanting "America, America!" In fact, I am a peace-loving man filled with warm thoughts about kittens and I frequently chant 'om'.
As you should have figured out by now.

I mention this because two gentlemen of my acquantance are convinced otherwise. Danny believes I am "a f****** terrorist, you know what, a f****** terrorist", and thinks that the FBI should investigate me, and Jeff has ranted at me about the violence from my side and how we're destroying this country and somebody should DO something.! Mostly before devolving into a long petulant whining jag in the backroom while scratching his privates.

This was pursuant some of my recent paintings in which I explored an artistic theme as relevant for this day and age as the Cruxifixion was for the Middle Ages.

Which upsets them.

I would like to extend my warmest congratulations to Louisiana
for succesfully burning something far worse than a cybertruck.

Surely you can see the suffering of Christ in the picture above? Oh, the heartache!

And, just like all those Jesuses drooping from Roman timbers, it is meant to inspire you to be the best that you possibly can be. You have it in you. Aspire to greater things. Fill yourself with love for your fellow man. Feel the pain. Think about the children.

Just consider baby Jesus suckling at Mary's naked titty.
It's absolutely that perfectly relevant.

Sadly, the FBI under its current direction will NEVER consider Mary's breast, clothed or bare. They would be better if they did. It's more meaningful. Jeff would also be better so. It would take his fevered little mind off the suffering of his fellow Republicans.


Never once have I set fire to a Tesla, even though listening to Jeff go on for over an hour in the backroom or Danny saying stupid things and tunelessly singing might have driven lesser men to something similar plus strong drink. The closest I've come is lighting my pipe and swilling tea while trying to tune them and their filled incontinence pants out.


I am, by all rational accounts, a saint.



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