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I was addicted from the first puff of that sweet sweet reefer. I was doing it with my friend. He actually died instantly; his heart exploded after taking a bong hit. I survived, but I craved something stronger, a bigger rush. I moved on to opium, then heroin, cocaine, and finally I found myself in a gutter, shooting up airplane glue. Before I knew it, I was at the Multnomah County Courthouse in Portland, Oregon, getting gay married. Steve, my partner, was addicted to crack. He wanted to get an abortion. I told him, ?Steve, you can?t get an abortion. You?re a man.?
?It?s my hot body, I?ll do what I want!? he said. That?s when I knew I had to let Jesus Christ into my life. I did, and he helped me to overcome my addictions. Now I spend ten hours per day praying and flagellating myself, and I?ve never been happier. I routinely visit Planned Parenthood clinics to encourage the whores of Babylon to stop using birth control and if they?re wearing skirts that go above the knee, to cover their shame. I?ve never felt so close to the Lord Almighty as when I?m contacting my senator to demand that he help his fellow republicans (or ?God?s Sheep?, as I like to call them) break down the satanic wall between church and state.
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