TESTIFY!

You want to know why I believe in God? Or rather, why you'd better be glad I believe in God, the Afterlife, all that great hoobajooba in the sky bullshit? Because otherwise I would straight up slit your motherfuckin' throat for the three dollars ninety seven cents, 2 stale mints, and half crushed box of Marlboro Lights in your pocket.

I have to have faith that there is something better. That faith allows me to live a good life and turn my nasty thoughts around.

I have some harsh instincts. I do not want to behave, but I struggle to. I am not that worried about man's punishments. Plenty of fuckers get away with murder daily without the law ever catching up with them. Plenty of corporate CEOs get paid very well to condone murder daily and are glorified for it.

Somewhere in my genetic programming there is a man attempting to fulfill his destiny to go out viking, I have to keep him locked down.

All that nonsense about our country being founded by Christians? Bullshit. What is Christian about taking a man's land, either by force or swindle? What is Christian about buying a man and forcing him to work for little more than a sustenance diet until he's dead? There are times when I think our founding fathers had it right. Why can't we treat Afghanistan and Iraq the way our forefathers treated America?

Mr. Reed from Allied Recovery Specialists, I merely hung up on your falsely friendly ass today. I can't afford to send you money, if I could, I would, it's that simple. If I wasn't a God-fearing man I would be hunting you down and using your skull as a mug for my Schlitz Very Strong Lager. Thats right, the VSL.

Scooter, OPP Poopy Daddy Fuckbritches, J-Sun, and all the other pieces of shit that watched an episode of Miami Ink and ordered an ebay tat-zapper. Yeah, you're not in it for the money, you're in it for the art. Eat a fat load of your own excrement. The only people that ever say that are the ones that couldn't tattoo their way out of a wet paper sack. You are taking food out of my son's mouth. If I didn't believe that there was something beyond this sad orb your bones would be decorating my front yard. A nice little gazebo of some sort maybe.

Giggly cunt driving the Mercedes that daddy bought her that she parked at an angle to the curb in a parallel parking space that can't figure out why she should have to pay $50 when all she wants is a dot on her arm to represent her eternal feelings of isolation in a world that will never get her deep need to be herself, whatever the fuck that means. Throat slit, credit cards maxed out, car dumped in the river. Be glad that I'm not an unbeliever.

Everyone else that has wronged me, annoyed me, or merely been of little to no use to me.... Honestly I consider the bulk of people to be a complete waste of my oxygen. I'm still debating the need for your existence.

I think I'm done for now. Is this is a good witness of faith or whatever you're supposed to call it?