Oh, Fruity and Moist-Lipped Damsels from the Lord’s Own Vineyard,
Last week, an acquaintance, who is very much living in the flesh, sent me a series of videos, I believe, as a cry for help. She and her cronies sat around carousing and cackling in a most unladylike manner. Although, I felt embarrassment and scorn for these sad, old trollops, I was able to find the love of Jesus in my heart for them after I ingested a goodly-sized dose of liquid cold medicine, ate half a pan of macaroni and cheese, and watched a few delicious moments of Liberace from my private collection of DVDs. The shimmering costumes of that dear, departed man remind me of the heavenly robes I saw on the Elect when I visited Heaven.
I do believe my distaste for them was very partially due to my slight congestion, but, mostly, it was because of the trashy language which spewed forth from their filthy lips like a geyser of sewage. As Luke says in the King James Version of the Bible, “…and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth forth that which is evil: for of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaketh.” (We know Luke meant women as well as men. Back then women didn’t need to be treated so specially as they are like to do so nowadays).
These depraved women ranted on about scatological topics, such as hanging a picture painted by that late, great Painter of Light above a commode and poetry on the bottle of a concoction, designed to disguise the odor of a bowel movement. Their intention was to ask my advice on these topics. Obviously, there was nothing to say. Furthermore, they analyzed a charming painting of a moonlit cottage by Thomas Kinkade and used the words, “box,” “protrusion,” and “erected,” in a most suggestive manner, indicating that the inhabitant was engaged in some type of illicit, lunar scandal. One of them even hinted at the sin of Onan (masturbation for the Biblically ignorant) by leering into the lens of the phone camera and saying something about the size of her fingers, “digits” to be exact, being a challenge and yet very effective. Somehow, she/they extrapolated this from my website in which I quote from The Mrs. Gladys Merriweather’s Young Ladies’ Guide to Venereal Etiquette and say, “Young ladies’ hands, are for prayer, light housework, and polite handshakes.” I have been so transformed in my mind that I cannot fathom any sense emanating from these cognitions so darkened by sin.
I’ll be plain: these women did not represent the fairer sex by their speech. In fact, I question their very humanity. In my mind’s eye, I saw them enact a scene from hell in which distended harridans ride broomsticks above a bonfire, fueled by a human sacrifice.
Hallelujah! They are not beyond redemption, though. The Lord spoke to me and said, “Whatever, Gladys. They’re fine.” That was all He said, but I assume that what He meant by that is that they can be saved. Let us lift up holy hands and pray that their husbands burn their lips with fiery coals in order to purify their words and thus save their souls from the peril of eternal damnation. After all, a plastic surgeon could give them new lips, sweeter lips, full and gracious lips to proclaim their salvation!
AMEN!
P.S. in the Lord,
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Loved , 'geyser if sewage' phrase.
Glades you rock.