I went to something called a chapel today. There was no God there.
The voice inside my head began to scream:
You use words like a parasite uses its host. You twist them, thinking you can somehow twist reality! And good men are silent. Go on then, parade men around in dresses and shave women’s heads—if you shout loud enough men and women will disappear—we’ll all just be cells, sexless cells in one grand orgy. No worries, we can kill any children, any inconvenient life. We may not approve of murder, but murder is only a word.
Good men will stay silent as you penetrate all that is beautiful with your foul organ—that diseased tongue—and your perverted words.
And now I have a headache, my mind filled with this repeated shout:
This is no time for good men.
(Author’s note: This is not a fiction. I was overtaken by the thoughts I have endeavored to inscribe above. The voice inside my head sounded vaguely like Sylvester McCoy. I know not what spirit spoke, or if I spoke of my own accord;—but I think it was of God, and I think it was a continuation of a meditation I had after watching the video below. In it, Crowder is a jerk—he is not a good man in the world’s definition. I think it is time for the abrasive and rude, for those like Donald Trump, to save the world.)