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Newsletter No. 19: WHILE MY REVOLVER GENTLY WEEPS
"FOR WHO, IN VIEW OF THE DIABOLICAL CRAFTINESS OF THESE SEDUCERS, COULD DAMN THE LUCKLESS VICTIMS?" Jesus Horace Christ. I mean, really. "There are no sorrows on Earth that can't be cured in Heaven." "Oh really? What about the sorrow of the expanding miseries? The accreted deceits? Or the sorrows of young Werther? What about the groaning sadnesses of nights that eat themselves up, liver first? What about the dying time of no cash, no credit, and no checks? Your system is flawed. You know why? Because you can't get a good blow job in Heaven, that's why. I mean that'd just about make all the difference in the world, don't you think?" "I'll pray for you, my child." "Pray for yourself, Jeremiah, you fuck. As for me? I'll be the drunk and disorderly one. The one that's there when the little guy is getting kicked around�either looking the other way or doing the kicking. I'll be the one whose voice is raised against the forces that oppose tyranny. I'm the face of the last and greatest wish of failed humanity: to be left alone. Now please, go while you still can." (Oh yeah? http://www.churchofsatan.com/Pages/BOT.html) |