Onan The Barbarian
As I Understand It™, the Catholocists are fully a "weak" into the Lenten season and with Ash Wednesday® in the rear view and the foreheads of the faithful adequately ash-tagged, it can only mean one thing: Suffering. Churchgoers have a penchant for suffering, if you'll forgive us for saying, and suffer mightily they will for forty days, fully a month and more of abstaining from that which gives them pleasure, yet threatens to be their moral undoing: Malted liquor, corned beef, tobacco, Tombstone® pizzas, crossword puzzles, bowling, bumper pool, Off-Track Betting (OTB), karaoke and coveting — which is to say, sexting — the neighbor's spouse; whatever one's pleasure, Lent is the time the religulous say, enough is enough, we're offering it up to you, Oh Lorde™. Take, for instance, young John Thomas. It seems that Master Thomas — in a practice common among school lads and digital marketing professionals — has been pumping out the precious fluid of his immortal soul nightly. His weakness for shillelagh shellacking has shamed his mum and dad and cost him his bloody eyesight. His IQ has summarily plummeted in six months and the fulsome pubis growth engulfing his left hand requires daily stroking with a razor blade. Alas, any sort of stroking leads to no good — according to Pastor Ron at "The Lorde Is My Savior But Not Yours Christian Fellowship Church" — as John Thomas is a complusive, serial Onanist. His story came to our attention in a disturbing series of postings circulating the Twitternet™. Pictured here with Pastor (and real-life Uncle) Ron, John Thomas and the God-fearing flock at The LIMSBNYCF Church are asking for prayers this Lent and the station house is of a mind to oblige: "Dear Lorde of wafered communion hosts and horrible, sweet wine on high. Keep John Thomas’ hands — and Ron's hands — off John Thomas' John Thomas for these 40 Lenten days so that his vision returns 20/20 and he's in fine form for the colored egg and jelly bean hunt on Easter Sunday. Yours Truly, Citizen Spiritualist Dooley®."
As I Understand It™, the Catholocists are fully a "weak" into the Lenten season and with Ash Wednesday® in the rear view and the foreheads of the faithful adequately ash-tagged, it can only mean one thing: Suffering. Churchgoers have a penchant for suffering, if you'll forgive us for saying, and suffer mightily they will for forty days, fully a month and more of abstaining from that which gives them pleasure, yet threatens to be their moral undoing: Malted liquor, corned beef, tobacco, Tombstone® pizzas, crossword puzzles, bowling, bumper pool, Off-Track Betting (OTB), karaoke and coveting — which is to say, sexting — the neighbor's spouse; whatever one's pleasure, Lent is the time the religulous say, enough is enough, we're offering it up to you, Oh Lorde™. Take, for instance, young John Thomas. It seems that Master Thomas — in a practice common among school lads and digital marketing professionals — has been pumping out the precious fluid of his immortal soul nightly. His weakness for shillelagh shellacking has shamed his mum and dad and cost him his bloody eyesight. His IQ has summarily plummeted in six months and the fulsome pubis growth engulfing his left hand requires daily stroking with a razor blade. Alas, any sort of stroking leads to no good — according to Pastor Ron at "The Lorde Is My Savior But Not Yours Christian Fellowship Church" — as John Thomas is a complusive, serial Onanist. His story came to our attention in a disturbing series of postings circulating the Twitternet™. Pictured here with Pastor (and real-life Uncle) Ron, John Thomas and the God-fearing flock at The LIMSBNYCF Church are asking for prayers this Lent and the station house is of a mind to oblige: "Dear Lorde of wafered communion hosts and horrible, sweet wine on high. Keep John Thomas’ hands — and Ron's hands — off John Thomas' John Thomas for these 40 Lenten days so that his vision returns 20/20 and he's in fine form for the colored egg and jelly bean hunt on Easter Sunday. Yours Truly, Citizen Spiritualist Dooley®."