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Turn the Other Cheek

Pastor Fester Krueger Bobcat Comments on Spanking


By Patricia Backora
Three thousand church members reluctantly returned as Fester
frowned and fiddled with notes. He readjusted his reading glasses,
then picked up his teaching material and drawled, Now for more
authority teachin from Brother Whipples book. Where was I? Here
we go. Heres more pearls of wisdom from this blessed saint of God:

The Catholic Pope is held to be infallible by his followers.


Whatever he decrees must be done. His decisions are held to be
beyond reproach. The father, by virtue of his holy office as priest of
his home, IS infallible, just like the Pope. Just as it is a grave sin for a
Roman Catholic to argue with the Pope, its an even worse sin for a
tiny child to ask why he is being paddled, and why his offense is worth
all that pain.

King Henry VIII of England was the absolute lord of his realm. He
held the power of life and death over all his subjects while he sat on
the throne. No one had the right to rebuke Henry because he was
Gods anointed sovereign. If Henry didnt like you he could whack your
head off with a hatchet. All Henry had to do was accuse you of
committing treason, and his definition of treason could change like the
wind. Treason was anything the King wanted it to be.
Henry wanted to get rid of his second wife, Anne Bulleter
excuse me Bo-leen! who couldnt produce a living male hair for his
line of succession. So Anne was accused of having affairs with a string
of men, some of whom werent even in the vicinity when the alleged
love trysts took place. Even if Anne did spend most of her three-year
marriage pregnant or recovering from childbirth and miscarriages, she
still allegedly had the health and stamina to cheat on Henry with five
different men, one of whom was her own brother.
Annes musician had a confession tortured out of him. As a
commoner, this man had no rights to human treatment. This forced
confession was treated as solid evidence in Henrys court.
It
incriminated Anne and sealed her fate. Anne was not allowed to
produce witnesses for her own defense. Because the integrity of the
Kings sacred office was at stake, his allegations could never be
contradicted. In treason trials, evidence for the defense was
inadmissible in the Kings court.
The trumped-up evidence against
Anne was so ludicrous it was flimsy as fairy dust. But all the lords who
judged her case knew they could also get the axe if they dared to
defend her. Because she was subordinate to the King, Anne Boleyn
bowed to the courts guilty verdict and meekly submitted to the
penalty imposed by the law of the land.
The office of King of England had to be held in such reverence that
he must never be proven to have borne false witness against the
accused. Nor must Gods anointed ruler be accused of hamstringing
the court to compel them to reach a guilty verdict. It was a veritable
sin against God to question Henry if he thought someone elses head
had to be sacrificed for the good of the realm. It was Annes duty to
die because Henry desired a younger woman with a healthier
reproductive system to manufacture a male heir to continue his kingly
line. Individual liberties had to bow to the will of the King.
In Gods sight, you, the priestly father of the family, enjoy just
much greater honor and majesty in your own home than Henry VIII
did during his reign. So in that light, does your child, or even your
wife, even have the right to wonder if youre being unfair? That
question should perish on the lips of a Christian child! Scandalous! If
you condemn your child to a hard spanking and he dares question
your judgment, he could very well forfeit his own salvation, because

hes questioning Gods wisdom, not just yours. Better a blistered


bottom in this lifetime than an eternity of regret in a far hotter hell.
Now back to the question of why its inappropriate for a child to beg
God for forgiveness until he has paid the very last farthing for his sin.
And speaking of farthing, even if your kid makes lots noise about you
being unfair, just lay on the pain till the debt is paid!
Even if your child climbs a tree to get away from you and then falls
and injures himself, a broken arms no substitute for a beating. On the
way to the doctors office, tell your child his injury is Gods punishment
upon him for trying to escape justice. Remind him that Jonah got
gobbled up by a whale when he ran away from Gods will. And warn
your kid that youve kept a faithful record of his sin against you, and
the moment hes all healed up, its off to the woodshed with him,
where he will finally pay his debt for his dirty deed..
Our God is a God of order. In His Kingdom things get done
according to His predetermined timing, and in their correct sequence.
Many have the misconception that forgiveness means to forego
punishment. But true forgiveness requires strict retribution for wrongdoing. Yes, Jesus did die on the Cross to pay for your sins. But that
only takes care of heavenly justice. Earthly justice demands that your
child suffer as well. Just as God ordained earthly policemen to punish
protesters with army surplus WMD, so has God authorized you, the
father of the family, to break your childs strong will with a holey
paddle. Just like you ought to teach your child that a policeman is not
someone to run away from but a friend, you should tell him that
Woody Woodshed is his friend which helps him stay on the rugged road
to heaven. Each and every night your child should include this in his
prayers: And God bless Woody Woodshed.
Wielding your paddle is a very holy aspect of your priestly office.
Like a Catholic pope carrying a giant crucifix in a candlelit procession,
the exalted emblem of your Parental Priesthood is the paddle, or in
some cases, the belt. Reverently you hold up Woody Woodshed as you
lead the solemn procession into your basement or den, or whatever
serves as your Woodshed Sanctuary for Penitent Souls. Just as a
Popes ceremonial procession is solemnized by mournful Gregorian
chants, your own Punitive Procession is hallowed by the wails of your
fearful child. Upon entry, your child should immediately kneel down.
Not to pray just yet, but to kiss that Old Wooden Paddle which delivers
his soul from hell.
Your Designated Woodshed Area is your (batCOUGH!...excuse
me), VATican, where you enforce law and order in your home. Its your
shrine of devotion to God, and the FOCAL POINT of your ministry to
your erring child. A hallowed sanctuary where the lengthy process of
being reconciled to an offended God is begun in order that it may be

finished by appropriating the finished work of Christ, Whose blood


atones for every sin. YOU, mister, are the one responsible for making
sure your child gets clean enough to come into the Presence of God to
receive forgiveness of sins.
Imagine a hog farmer whos been working in the pigpen all day
long. His overalls are filthy, saturated with muck and grime. His shoes
ooze sewage. The mans face is caked with crud because a 400-pound
hog knocked him down and he got rotten, smelly stuff all over him.
The dirt even seeped through his clothes and got down to his skin. This
man AND his clothes both need cleansing. But they need at least one
quick spitwash outside before they can go inside where the spankin
clean bathroom and laundry room are.
His wife comes out onto the back porch and hollers, Bubba, you
stink to high heaven! Take them filthy rags off at once! Were throwin
em out cause I aint a-washin em!
But Bubba refuses to throw his dirty duds away. Theyre too good
for the garbage can. He warns his wife shed better not soak them in
water because theyll shrink. Bubba just bought those perfectly good
bib overalls. He lies and says they can only be dry-cleaned. And
worse still, Bubba is too stubborn to take his clothes off and hang
them on the line like his wife orders him to do.
By the time they finish arguing, the mud on those clothes has
dried in the hot sun. Filth is flaking off Bubbas body. Dust is swirling
around him and hes attracting horse flies from the barn. The very
sight of him disgusts his wife. But she is still determined to clean
Bubbas clothes even if he wont let her wash them. So she decides to
dry-clean them. She grabs a broom and beats the dust off Bubba, just
like they used to beat a dirty rug before they invented vacuum
cleaners. Filth flies everywhere, and boy, does it smart! Bubba isnt
ready to have his remaining impurities cleansed off his body in the
spotless bathroom until hes covered in bruises.
This sounds crude but its true: Christ did his bit to save your kid,
but your belt bails him out of hell.
A quicker analogy is the way a dishwasher works better if you first
take the time to pre-rinse 98% of the food off under the tap. When
you spank your child, you create cleansing tears which make Jesus
cleaning job much easier when the child finally prays for for His
forgiveness.
I realize my popularity could hit rock BOTTOM by preaching the
hard-to-swallow doctrine of SUPPLEMENTAL SUFFERING SALVATION.
But Solomon himself, the wisest, smartest, holiest Christian who ever
lived, would back up this vital truth: GOD CANNOT SAVE YOUR CHILD
UNLESS YOU BEAT HIS BOTTOM! YOUR BELT IS YOUR KIDS HOTLINE
TO HEAVEN! Why do I believe this? In Proverbs 23:14 Solomon wrote:

IF you beat your son with the rod youll save his soul from hell! The
key is that tiny word if. The clear inference is that if you punish your
kid by grounding him or taking away his skateboard, hell split hell
wide open and hell never see the Pearly Gates.
Some infidels dispense with the doctrine of the intermediary
priesthood of the father by citing I Tim.2:5, which teaches that there is
only one mediator between God and man, Christ Jesus. Yes, its true
you grown-ups dont have to go to some Catholic priest and confess
your sins so that priest can help you make your peace with God. But
little kids dont know their right hand from their left foot, so what
would they know about the proper way to approach a holy God theyve
offended by breaking a light bulb? They need you to confess their sins
to, so you can bridge the gap between them and an angry God.
Without you, Christ Jesus cannot reconcile them with the Father in
heaven. And you better make darn sure you get to the childs sin first
before God gets the chance to wash it away. If God got rid of the guilt
before you beat that guilt out of him, that would be highly improper!
One erring brother I knew asked me why any sane Christian would
follow Solomons spanking advice after he financed the building of
child-eating idols like Molech and Chemosh, in order to please his
heathen wives. This man cited I Kings 11:7 and he had this to say:
Surely Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived, must have known
those idols wouldnt settle for a dog biscuit. Solomon knew what
Molech and Chemosh ate to get their five a day. He knew what got
thrown into their blast furnace bellies each and every day. So it follows
that King Solomon hated kids too much to be much of a child rearing
expert.
In all probability Solomon repented in later life. How do I know
this? Solomon laments that he didnt get lasting satisfaction out of all
the thrilling things he did with his life. Ever hear that song: I Cant
Get No Satisfaction? But I try, and I try and I try, the song goes.
Solomon tried his darnedest to find fulfillment in wine, women and
song. And Solomon tells you how to beat your kids so they wont
commit the same sins he did. Also, keep in mind that Solomon only
commanded Christians to spank their kids, not sacrifice them to idols.
Give the poor guy a break. Were all sinners, and whos to say you
wouldnt have caved in too if youd had a thousand heathen wives
nagging you night and day for their own designer Molech monster?
The proof of any doctrine is in the pudding. Solomons son
Rehoboam grew up to be a strong, tough king who was man enough to
beat his forced laborers with scorpions to increase their productivity.
Talk about the Protestant Work Ethic!
Thats like some sheriff
whipping
chain gang convicts with a rattlesnake to teach them
obedience. Rehoboam wasnt a wimpy pantywaist granola junkie who

freely forgave everybody without punishment! Even if Rehoboam did


cause a civil war in Israel with his draconian domestic policies, his iron
will was forged in the furnace of his daddys woodshed where Solomon
flogged him all the days of his childhood to prove how much he loved
him.
But what if you accidentally whip a child for something they didnt
do? No sweat.
That little booboo gets credited to your childs
SPANKING SPREAD SHEET in heaven. Whenever he does something
bad in the future that you dont hit him for, those accidental swats are
deducted from the SPANKING CREDITS your kids built up over the
years of your imperfect parenting. Heck, just take your son in the
kitchen and fix him a great big peanut butter sandwich. Like a loyal
pup, hell instantly forgive and forget, and that sandwich will soothe
his battered bottom.
Which reminds me of another book Im working on, which wont
come out till next year: Beat the Devil out of Your Dog. Grumpy, my
200-pound pit bull, refused to get his lazy caboose off the couch so I
could watch a ball game on TV. He thought hed won, but after I
roasted Grumpys rump with my very own Darth Vader light saber, he
ran away with his stubby tail between his legs. This book is a saga
about my lengthy, perilous quest to reform Grumpys wayward soul,
and oh, yes, dogs go to hell too if theyre bad. Down there they turn
into hot dogs! Yum! More on that later. Back to children.
In Chapter 53 Ill cover the subject of baby sins and how to deal
with them. Before babies even emerge from the delivery room theyre
already plotting ways to rob you of rest and peace. If you have to get
up more than three times a night to feed a newborn, that infant is
treating you like a slave and deliberately depriving you of sleep just for
kicks. Then there are times when you might be kneeling in prayer, only
to hear your precious bundle of joy scream to have her diaper
changed. You smell something suspicious. Satan made that babys
bowels move at the wrong time so youd get distracted from the things
of God. Youd just changed a soggy diaper a few minutes ago, but now
shes got an even bigger surprise for you.
That child knows youve got more spiritual things to do with your
life than clean up her dirty work. Satan is definitely behind such a socalled coincidence, for it is his business to distract the saints of God
from their religious duties.
Later Ill tell you how to deal with these spiritual attacks, and how
I broke my daughter Pansy from a bad habit. Pansy was just 8 months
old when satan started attacking us with her pacifier. Shed drop that
thing on the dirty floor and laugh like it was a joke. Shed interrupt our
Bible study so wed have to go wash it and give it back to her, just so
we wouldnt have time for the Lord. Folks, I could see satan at work,

and I prayed that God would give me the victory over our childs
sinister plot to distract us from the things of God. Well, one day I said,
This is the last straw, kid. Youve sabotaged my quiet time for the
very last time. Ill tell you more about how we won this Battle of the
Demon-possessed Pacifier in Chapter 54, once youve learned the
basics of how to correct infantile sins committed by baby brats. But
believe me, once I trained Pansy Gods way, that girl never dropped
anything on the floor ever again. Pansy learned the lesson so well that
when she started crocheting, she was too scared to drop a stitch.
Here are some song lyrics I wrote, which I sing to the tune of an
old hymn:
O Paddle Divine
O Paddle Divine
Youre faithful to keep my family in line.
I bow at thy shrine
You make children mind
You wonderful Paddle Divine.
Oh those precious rapturous joys you and your child will forever
share together in eternity as you remember those holy hours in the
woodshed, where you, as the exalted Paddle Priest of your home, led
your weeping, penitent child into the Presence of Almighty God. The
spiritual high both of you will take away from this experience will
soothe away the bitter pain of chastisement like honey soothes
sunburn. As your child spiritually transcends his posterior pain, he
will awaken to paradise in the pleasure zone of the soul. As he bows to
your belt in deepest humility, your childs soul will fly on angel wings to
touch the face of God. Thus, even a childs naughty pranks can be the
catalyst through which he enters into deeper dimensions in his
Christian experience. His sweetly submissive response to the pain itself
incites an inner ecstasy which transports his soul to heavenly realms
where he can hear the angels sing. This is much like the spiritual
ecstasies experienced by Catholic hermits who habitually whip their
filthy fallen flesh and wear scratchy scapulars to immerse their
innermost being into the glory of God.
Talk about the Agony and the Ecstasy! The sweetness of the joy
which springs from submission to your priestly ministry of
chastisement will overwhelm the child so much he can barely contain
it. Instead of tears of pain, youll see tears of indescribable heavenly
delight seeping from his eyes. He will feel an afterglow so powerful, so
profound, the agonies of earth will grow strangely dim in his sight. All
because you, the priestly father of the family, whipped Woody

Woodshed out of the closet and merged the power of the paddle with
the power of prayer to cure the cancer of sin in your childs heart.
Brother Bobcat closed the book and held it reverently. What a
wonderful example of godliness Brother Whipple was, and still is.
Thats the way I dizplined my own kids. But they dont hate me for
rearing em that way cause all that misery is BEHIND them, no pun
intended.
One smart guy came up to me when the ushers werent around
and asked, Brother Bobcat, why do you urge parents to hit their kids
for itty-bitty sins but you ditched your first wife to marry a younger
woman? Dont you need a spanking too? Especially since Solomon also
said fools who git led astray by wily women should git locked up in a
stockade, and Jesus Himself said in Matthew 5:32 that if you divorce a
woman who hasnt committed adultery against you yet, youre guilty of
a terrible sin if you marry somebody else? Blah, blah, blah.
The two-bit worm! Fester fulminated. What rights he got to
rebuke a famous preacher every decent Christian in America and
around the world looks up to? Solomon also said a parable dont mean
nothin if it comes out of a fools mouth.
Fester made a face. Stupid moron. Everybody knows spankings
the only Proverb thats still binding under the New Covenant, cause
Jesus did away with the rest of the Law, except for tithin, of course.
The good Lord knows we cant run our homes without punishin our
kids the only way that works. Adults have got rights, cause theyre
bigger and smarter than kids, so spankings just for kids.
Besides, sin is harder to define once you grow up. Proverbs 31
says its wise for preachers to go lookin for a virtual woman to
compliment their ministry. A virtual woman is worth more than rubies,
it teaches. But what do you do when wife number one aint even
worth a sack of marbles? You need to move onto greener pastures to
look for virtual women after the old one dries up. And I found that kind
of lady when Sugar showed up at this church. So if that dumb donkey
who criticized me for my first divorce had any idea what hell I went
through watchin Minerva pack on the pounds after she had four kids in
three years, he wouldnta dared say that to me. If my ushers hadnt
been dozin on the job, theyda taken their belts to that bum!
Its all Minervas fault! Fester roared. Wouldnt dye her gray hair
to look younger for me. She wouldnt wear war paint, not even on her
saggy legs to hide her bellicose veins. Jesus understands why I
couldnt stay faithful to that old gray mare. Stayin with Minerva
woulda been worse than any spanking I coulda got for adulterating on
her. I never did git no satisfaction outa her, except for the joys of
teachin her kids the fear of God.

Some other dipstick dope disagreed with my spanking position. He


said Jesus threatens to tie a grindstone around somebodys neck if
they offend any little child. But Jesus wasnt tryin to protect little
cabooses in that verse, just their souls. That persnickety jerk failed to
mention that offend in that context dont even mean what it does
today. Jesus meant if you cause that child to sin youre in big trouble,
and thats perzactly what you do if you dont wear him out every now
and then. You make him grow up to be a bank robber. Solomon said
so! He was the wisest man that ever lived, and all 1,000 of his
nagging wives would say amen!
Man, when I was a kid I got more whuppins than Planters got
peanuts. Whenever Id hear my daddy holler all three of my names
Fester Krueger Bobcat! I knew my sin had found me out and I was in
for a good ol fashioned Dr. SHOCK treatment that would heat my seat
for a week.
Ill never forget one incident that happened when I was about
nine years old. Sister Minnie, this old maid missionary lady, well, shed
been invited to eat supper with us, though we were dirt poor and even
the chickens out in the barnyard flew the coop to go live with richer
families to stay alive. Me and my brother Jonas, well, we knew Sister
Minnie would choose the best piece of chicken before the plate got
passed around to us.
As usual, Mama cut up the chicken like this: the best part of the
bird, the white meat, well, that was cut up into two portions. That left
two shriveled drumsticks, two skinny thighs, the withered wishbone,
two bony wings, a petrified back, a gristly neck, a pile of innards and
the Popes nose, which we usually threw out to the dog. That is, unless
we had visitors and that was all that was left on the plate when it
finally reached us kids. If that happened, our mutt would just wander
the neighborhood and dig his dinner out of other peoples trash cans.
Mama, shed always triple coat the chicken pieces with so much
buttermilk batter youd never know a big family had only one scrawny
bird to eat. Once Mama fried it all up, she laid the pieces out on a big
platter, where she also heaped high with these little golden brown corn
muffins she loved to bake, which helped keep me from starvin to
death when I was a kid. Then she heard my sister yellin that the baby
threw up all over himself. Mama turned off the stove and ran to go
clean the mess up. My daddy, well, he was out on the front porch ayakkin with Sister Minnie so he didnt have a clue what was up.
Me and Jonas snuck in from the back porch and stuffed those two
pieces of tender, juicy white meat in our britches, we were so tired of
bein hungry all the time. Just so Mama wouldnt notice the missing
pieces, we took extra muffins out of the oven and put em on the plate
with the rest of the chicken. We was gonna run out to Daddys tool

shed where nobody but God could see us, and eat there. Wed already
dug the food out of our pockets when Daddy came in the kitchen for a
drink of water and called for us to come in, before we got halfway to
the shed. All we could do was stick the chicken back in our pockets.
Our pants were baggy, wed both lost so much weight, so you didnt
notice any lumps in our pockets. Good thing they were black pants, or
Daddy woulda seen the grease stains on em right away.
Once we were all assembled around the table, Daddy told all of us
to join hands while he thanked the good Lord for the food, and prayed
for Sister Minnies work in Africa. Well, my daddy could be longwinded, and in the meantime old Smokey, our bird dog, snuck in
through the screen door, which somebodyd left open. And, you
guessed it! While everybodys eyes were shut during that long prayer,
old Smokey crawled underneath the table and sniffed around my pants
lookin for something to eat. I couldnt yank my hands away from the
folks next to me or open my eyes. I couldnt even say one word while
Daddy thanked Jesus for every African soul whod ever been blessed
by Sister Minnie. But Smokey jabbed his paw at my pocket, then
pinched the chicken out. Then he did the same to my brother.
Funny thing, once Daddy stopped prayin, he didnt notice the dog
under the table, just passed the chicken plate to Sister Minnie, our
honored guest.
Now Sister Minnie, she was a little lady but she could eat like a
truck driver, and she was an expert on fried chicken, like most church
workers are. She poked and dug through that plate of chicken and
made a funny face, shook her head, then she got up to leave.
Im sorry, Eileen, she said to my mother. I just remembered,
Sally Parsons is sick and I need to go pray for her. She goes to bed
early so I better be on my way.
Well, Id just been over to the Parsons, and I knew everybody
there was feelin fine, and Sister Minnie was just tellin Mama a story.
And I just happened to know the Parsons were havin pot roast for
supper. But I kept quiet till old Smokey sprung out from underneath
the table, carryin two chicken rib cages.
No, no, boy! I yelled. Git outa here!
That dog ate my breast! Sister Minnie hollered, without thinkin.
But when she realized what shed just said, and saw how scandalized
Daddy looked, she flew out that door like the devil himself was achasin her with a pitchfork.
My daddy, he got mad as a hornet. He whipped off his big belt
and threatened the dog with it. Then old Smokey ran up to me and
sniffed around my pants pocket before goin over and smellin Jonass.
Daddy came up and took a closer look. Lo and behold, there were big
grease stains on our pockets. Daddy apologized to Smokey. Then he

took us outside and wore us out real good for feedin Sister Minnies
breast to the dog. As he pounded satan out of our backside, Daddy
chewed us out for leadin that dumb dog into temptation, and puttin
him in danger of goin to torment.
Instead of mashed spuds and cornbread, me and my brother got
a mashed butt and early bed.
And that wasnt the end of the mischief we got into. One time
when the church bowed their heads for prayer, it was a-stormin
outside but the thunder came from our pew. And since nobody would
fess up to the abomination, Daddy dragged all us kids outside and
skinned us alive with his cowhide belt, while the rain was a-pourin
down. While the lightning flashed the sparks flew. Before we went back
in, the preacher dismissed the service early. Children should be seen
and not heard.
Nowadays kids dont mind, cause their so-called parents give em
candy instead of correction, like the Bible commands. Turn with me to
Proverbs 20:30. It says that the blueness of a wound cleanses away
evil, and stripes clean out your belly. Just like yore bodys septic tank
gits all clogged up and it needs an enemyuh, enema, to wash it out.
That tells me that if your kids blessed assurance aint black and blue
and stripey when youre done beatin the fear of god into em, it wont
do no good. By the time my daddy finished learnin me how to mind, I
looked like Id been Kung-Fu-chopped by a sumo rassler.
I liked Brother Whipples teachin on Henry VIII, But that guy
wasnt nothin compared to what Fester the First is gonna do yall if
yore tithing dont improve! In fact, Im the first and the last in the
chain of author-ity here!
Whipples a stupiduhSTUPENDOUS!
author, but his book aint nothin compared to my book, Tithe or Youll
Fry in Hell! And since that ones a brand new book hot off the press, it
sells for $12.37, to help defray costs of publication.
Festers face darkened into an avenging storm. He slammed his
King James Bible so hard on the pulpit two loose pages flew out of it.
An usher scrambled to scoop them up.
Craigs head bobbed. He rubbed the crick in his neck. He was so
tired his ears were ringing. It was already past his bedtime. He jerked
upright. Pastor never preached this long before, he moaned to
Wanda. Pul-eeze, Fester, stop the whipping so we can go home.
Some of us have to get up in the morning.
All right! Brother Bobcat barked. Ive done my bit. Ive spent
nigh unto two hours breakin the bread of life to yall. Ive worked
overtime tonight and read to yall like little kids git read to at bedtime
by their mama. So were runnin mighty late and yall need to git home
to yore lazy hot tub lifestyles while I struggle on and on and on tryin
to hold this ministry together with Elmers Glue and baling wire, cause

you dont pay me enough money to keep my massive ministry alive!


But well close with a sober ammunition: As yore spiritual dad, Ive
got the power to call down Gods curses on yall for robbin the Lord!
Whatsoever I bind on earth is bound in heaven, so Im invested with
arthority to shut the gates of heaven against anybody that sins against
me! This whole congregation can roast in hell and shovel coal for all I
care, if yall dont tithe! Cry out unto the Lord to forgive you for
withholdin yore tithes, or the day you drop dead and meet St. Peter at
the Pearly Gates, hell tell you to go south to spend eternity with evil
sinners like the Devilcrats, Judas Ass Chariot, and all the liberal lefties
that are ruinin this country! Down there youll scream and mash yore
teeth in pitch black darkness!
* ** * *
Watch my video satires on the subject:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JhGeuZLyzE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRcCriVp8Gg

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