coming to terms with the truth about me

You would think, with my negative attitude and outlook on life this year that I wouldn’t forget how stupid and self-serving people are. And, really, I don’t; however, it still baffles me at times the levels to which people go.
(On a roughly connected side note—for the past two weeks I have had old woman after old woman give me examples of how old women are some of the most rude and self-involved creatures on the planet. You think you see a sweet old lady and you start to smile inwardly at the tender grandmotherly feelings that begin to gestated within you, and then Wham! She darts in front of you, nearly clipping your bumper to then proceeds to slow down abruptly so that you nearly rear-end her—or without a casual glance over her shoulder, she cuts in front of the five full carts in line at the grocery store, and places her eight times on the conveyer belt, only to spend fifteen minutes trying to figure out which store she is in so that she can use the right saver’s card, followed by an extended portrayal of the ‘how I lost my memory’ game as she attempts to either figure out how to use the credit card machine or recall how to write a fucking check. {Wheew, Thanks! I needed that!} Now, back to our previously scheduled blog.)
After I take my shower and get dressed, but before I spend the fifteen seconds to do my hair, I always take a few minutes to check my four or five websites that I loiter multiple times a day. This morning, one of them provided me with a joyous video of Pat Robertson (who is slightly better than dearly departed Jerry Falwell [wonder how long he will have to rot before his very name ceases to cause my blood to boil]) extolling his vast and superior knowledge of the gay culture, agenda, and its people at large. I am very thankful that I got the chance to hear him tell his following minions about me, as I had forgotten who I really am—no wonder I’ve haven’t felt like myself this year—I’m sure I’ll be better now that I can get back to my life’s ambition of destroying marriage. He reminded me that I don’t want to get married. I might say I do, I might have thought I really wanted that with Him, but I didn’t. No, not at all. I just wanted to prove a point that marriage is a falsity and that it is my way of obliterating the so-called marriage of others. What a relief that was. I thought I was depressed, shattered, and heart-broken. Fortuitously, I was wrong. I was just upset that my agenda had been interrupt. Now that I remember, I can quickly return to destroying the liberties of our ‘free’ nation. I had also forgotten that the vast majority of America doesn’t want me to get married, so therefore, I shouldn’t. I also forgot (as did dear, dear Pat) that half of our country wanted slaves at one point—thank goodness the votes finally turned around in favor of all those poor little Blacks. What a relief! I’d hate to think we might have had to go to war in order to give humans equal rights instead of simply waiting for everyone to get on the same page.
So, my lovely Pat, even though I cringed at the increasingly sagging flesh quivering on your jowls, it was good to see you this morning. Thank you for taking the time to meet with all your close gay friends and seeing through their human disguises and recognizing the satanic terrorists that they really are. Hopefully, you did your Christian duty and didn’t just destroy them with words but sliced open their bellies with your sacrificial knife so that you could extricate their souls and redeem them from the fires of Hell. I need a friend like you. It would mean a lot if you could come show me the love of Christ sometime next week. I’d like to see you Monday, but I have my ‘Corrupt Children and Puppies’ meeting that night, followed by a séance to cause the straight divorce rate to continue to swell. Are you free Tuesday?
(And to think I also thought I’d have time to discuss the brilliance of Obama’s Peace Prize—you know, since he’s solved all the world’s problems in a few short months. I guess I’ll have to save that for another day.)