Ain't No Homos Going To Make It To Heaven...
According to this little darling, to the rapturous applause of the congregation of the Apostolic Truth Tabernacle Church in Greenburg, Indiana, who nevertheless somehow "do not condone, teach, or practice hate of any person for any reason":
Which is funny, cause I actually found the keys to the kingdom hidden under a plant pot beside the door. Seriously, it happened when I was not that much older than the kiddiwink in the video, just a handful of years on, a few feet higher and a world or two wiser. I was playing, as you do, and accidentally knocked the pot over, and what do you know, there were the keys. Pretty golden olde-style keys -- mortis rather than yale, dig? -- with a wee tag on them that said, NO SUCH THING.
I tried taking them to a responsible adult, naturally -- a Sunday School teacher, blathering on about God and Heaven.
Look, I said, holding up the keys, NO SUCH THING.
He didn't want them, shooed me away, so off I went with the keys in my pocket, let myself into the little walled garden, and had a whole lot of fun scrumping apples in the orchard that doesn't exist.
No homos going to make it to Heaven? Baby, a whole lot of us are there already, in a place you'll likely never be, because you've locked it up and hidden the keys, and would let no one enter, and do not enter yourselves. Fuck, it seems you've forgotten where you hid the keys, and even what they look like. But seriously, if you just take a look around you for the plant pot...
Go on. You see it. You must see it. It's fricking everywhere.
Now, give it a wee kick.
Which is funny, cause I actually found the keys to the kingdom hidden under a plant pot beside the door. Seriously, it happened when I was not that much older than the kiddiwink in the video, just a handful of years on, a few feet higher and a world or two wiser. I was playing, as you do, and accidentally knocked the pot over, and what do you know, there were the keys. Pretty golden olde-style keys -- mortis rather than yale, dig? -- with a wee tag on them that said, NO SUCH THING.
I tried taking them to a responsible adult, naturally -- a Sunday School teacher, blathering on about God and Heaven.
Look, I said, holding up the keys, NO SUCH THING.
He didn't want them, shooed me away, so off I went with the keys in my pocket, let myself into the little walled garden, and had a whole lot of fun scrumping apples in the orchard that doesn't exist.
No homos going to make it to Heaven? Baby, a whole lot of us are there already, in a place you'll likely never be, because you've locked it up and hidden the keys, and would let no one enter, and do not enter yourselves. Fuck, it seems you've forgotten where you hid the keys, and even what they look like. But seriously, if you just take a look around you for the plant pot...
Go on. You see it. You must see it. It's fricking everywhere.
Now, give it a wee kick.
Labels: Fuck This Shit
posted by Hal Duncan | 12:53 pm
2 Comments:
faggots is he true hategroup, they are liars.
The word you are looking for is "literate," honey. "Literate."
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