Rupert Murdock, the decrepit baboon skeleton,
airs his saggy old *****, just scraping the ****** post-riot pavement,
tethered by holy eternal varicose veins.
On the pulpit,
while his latest  18-year-old Sinclair media wife
is about to get another sponsorship from both
Chick-fil-A and Pornhub simultaneously.
She hoists up her 4 pounds of silicone and chastises the teleprompter.  
The non-stop, family-values-approved bride to bed conveyor belt of
plastic, airbrushed Barbie fantasies delivers again,
family prepped since  16 , timed to be next in line on her eighteenth birthday,
prenup in hand, already half-replaced before the vows finish, brain-dead sacrificial ******.
She delivers the one line of her lifetime :

“Pray for stricter FCC compliance!”

Rupert Murdoch, that brittle old heartless greedy leather hate balloon, waddling up to the baptismal like some ****-mummified televangelist.
His ******* looks like a pair of deflated Macy’s parade balloons, gray and dragging,
incalculable waddles
swinging under fluorescent stage lights,
while Fox News’ camera crews powder  them up
and then pretends not to stay  zoomed in.

Next to him, his Sinclair-branded trophy wife—18 years old,
teeth white enough to blind an orphan
leans in, hissing like a possessed Stepford wife:

“FCC compliance, Daddy, for our sponsors!”

Meanwhile the teleprompter glitches, spitting out a slurry of half-written QAnon hashtags and ****** ads. Every time the chyron updates, his granny-bedazzled MAGA ***** twitch
like a Sunday school metronome,
keeping that uneducated southern apprentice rerun rhythm
with Tucker Carlson’s embalmed pre-****** consta-sneer somehow still echoing
through the sound system.

The sexually repressed civil rights denier menopause crowd
goes wild,
waving hymnals made of Bible stock options
and AR-15 gun show manuals.
The choir belts “Fair & Balanced” like it’s the Nicene Creed.
Karen boomers in rhinestone MAGA hats throw ******* on stage till it rivals Mt. Rushmore.
Then another hate-filled racist streamer Infowars priest breaks in, live-commenting the *****’ tempo.

The traumatized, ritually molested and ignored choir kids are
all corporate mascots:
Ronald the death-of-cows McDonald,
the forgotten pizza-*******-addicted Noid,
the ******* Geico Gecko shame-and-fear puppet,
all singing the Fox News hymnal
while ****-chugging Bud Light in NFL jerseys.
The cross-shaped teleprompters melt into a deepfake of
Jesus hocking MyPillow and ***** pills
simultaneously.

The A.I. audience loses their scripted corpo-tested ****.
Hot G.O.P. elected ****-doll **** Karens fleece boomers in rhinestone MAGA hats,
steadily flinging Spanx and granny ******* toward the stage
like it’s a Pentecostal wet t-shirt contest.

Black priests react, screaming
“POGCHAMP BALL SWAY”
into their Amazon headset mics.

The choir is a corporate mascot freakshow.
The Fox camera pans to Grimace rising from the fryer grease
like Cthulhu saving the Hamburglar’s soul from the elitist liberals. Except now no one can tell Matt Gaetz from his exact twin Ronald McDonald
as they are both conducting with ketchup-stained Trump-approved Happy Meal scepters.
The Geico Gecko, in liturgical robes, chants in Cockney while doing snow angels on a pile of corporate lobbyist insurance regulation cash
(oh, and all tax free).
Judge Judy, in ecstasy, hammers a tambourine like a tweaked-out animated hemorrhoid
They belt out the Fox News hymnal, a distorted “Fair & Balanced”  sports score interrupted  drone.

Deepfake Jesus appears.
Holy hologram Christ, beaming and lifelike,
pitching mandatory prayer in school
AFTER  collection plate time.

“Blessed are the erectile, for they shall inherit the white Earth.”

" Rupert’s will is all-powerful. He hath made Trump into an infallible MAGA God, and soon the tiny-handed orange one of mushroom ***** glory shall be ascending like the Star of Bethlehem, guiding the gas-guzzling SUVs to Wal-Mart to stock up on bullets, for the numerous bunkers shall overflow with powdered supplements and the ****** of your neighbors.    ... Amen."

The crowd bows in Islamic unison.
Rupert, the angry ******* desiccated ******* scarecrow,
***** doing subliminal semaphore, adjusts ***** microphones, lipstick-covered ******* swaying like a doomsday pendulum,
as the choir’s chorus crescendos into a mashup of Fox jingles
Bringing in the sheep  and “Onward, Christian Soldiers.”

Who takes the time to talk out of a donkey
but ignores every train car of the entire holocaust?
Sure does love his "chosen" people, right?

Yep, Yahweh.
That's YOUR guy.
The "world's" chosen daddy.
The ultimate GOD wars winner?
Defeater of Baal, Moloch, Marduk, Tiamat, Horus, Ra, etc.

So, Immortality, sounds amazing to you?
You do realize, you can’t hit the off switch?
Or even... run away.

Forever isn’t a gift.
To anyone or anything.

Imagine eternity spent with
all the same fake disturbing "lovely" people
you try to avoid at the grocery store,
or water cooler,
except now you can’t escape.
Not even into death.

Every smug, painted up, repressed, crotchety church lady,
every judgmental, animal murdering, red hat *****,
every “actually, let me tell you why that’s a mortal sin” guy,
"pray away the gay," "god hates ****"
at an AIDS funeral (?)
those kind of real winners.

All now immortal.
All your neighbors.
FOREVER!

In return for your collection plate scraps you get:
"Worship me, or eternal torture."
(Bro, if you have to threaten people into loving you,
maybe you’re not that lovable?)

Sunday morning eternal worship sessions on bad punch steroids.
Eternal consciousness?
That’s not paradise.
You're choosing a hostage situation, with extra steps.

MY only prayer
is that prayers are useless.

Gold? (In heaven, really??)
Gold streets that lead to a padded cell
for the already dead soul
you been trying so hard to keep pure.

Where does the Bible mention humor, art, creativity, or entertainment as a value again?
Oh, right. It doesn’t.

There probably aren't enough window views either,
and now we all have to compare
"stars in our crowns" forever,
cause nothin says "equality and justice"
like an eternity of being made to feel inferior.
So, so righteous.
Cause there's no do overs.

My only want
is for death to be the final freedom.

To those that want to exist forever,
it's clear you don't really think.
But try to realize the HELL you're actually praying for.

If my reward for being "good"
is to be trapped with you
AND your lazy, ineffectual, cruel, hate-filled sky daddy,
then I choose, PASS!

PASS.
Hard pass, that is.

That’s no ones heaven,
that’s a cloudy PTA meeting
getting molested by an overzealous catholic choir master
during a timeshare scam.

Just some reality for every idiot
that thinks "Hey wanna be with me?, Cool.
If you don't or act 'bad'
I'll chain you in my basement
and have a guy I "created" peel and burn your skin off
while he pokes you with a pitch fork forever."

That's normal relationship stuff, right?

Here on Earth you wouldn't run from that guy?
But it's okay to hang with em forever ?
cause gramma told you to
And hey, it’s HEAVEN. !
Yay.
lol.  There  WAS a good  reason  we  separated  church  from  state.
"was"

Desperate magicians
pulling symbols out of thin air,
pretending they have weight.
We glue stories to
death,
joy,
love,
hate,
and call it meaning,
but at the core it’s hollow,
a forced construct to keep our heads from snapping off
or caving  in
during  the  reality  of  unfathomable chaos.
Religion  is  condensed  hate masquerading as caring.
We  don't  care  about  anyone but  our  children or  our  parents.
Not  actually, not  systemically, not practically.

It’s brutal
and seems freeing at the same time:
   If ,  nothing HAS  to mean anything.
yet we obsessively insist   that  it does.
We carve sense out of
nonsense,
hope out of
despair,
and call it life
or  living.
If  we  the  people  took the  power  away
  from those  we  abdicated  it  to
what would  really happen ?
Freedom ?
No....
it's  our  recursive nature  
to  hurt
to enslave
to horde
to lust
to desire  to be  better.
Better  than  what?
Look at the  deer,  the  birds  , the  bears, the  fish
you see  them  punching the  clock ? Or  foreclosing on  Gramma ?
Handing over our
agency
to  a system
designed  so  that  thoughts  and  feelings  are  as meaningless  as circumstance .
Greed engineered  to fail  the  whole.   but  benefit  those  making the  rules. We chose  to blind  ourselves  and  worse  yet our  children.
Rules  are  an  an attempt  to control  the  future  based  on the mistakes  of  the  past.
  You and  your  voice  means  nothing
never has,
never  will .
  The  normalization of  brainwashing
  and  the  idea  that  asking a question  is  wrong,

thanks  Jesus.

Your word is a lamp for my feet and a light for my path.
The path to withstand my evil’s desired wrath.

Lead me by your truth and teach me,
Strike me deep in my heart, Jesus I can be.
For you are the God who saves me,
Who bloomed a fruit in my worthless tree.

All day long I put my hope in you.
You’re the God, who showed me what’s true.
For he made everything such a beauty,
Though as for me, I am poor and needy,
but the lord is thinking about me right now.”
And he will guide me, even if I don’t know how.

The lord is my shepherd; I have everything I need.
He is the only one, who can make me succeed!

For I sin in my earthly routine,
Purify me from my sins, and I will be clean;
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow,
Make me pure, as I live and show.

How could I be afraid to grow?
For he orders his angels to protect you wherever you go.

Tell me,
what do you choose to live by –
Life’s script, or by Scripture?

Respect, love. Genesis 2:24
Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh
But there’s something else…

Fear

There’s a middle-aged mother who’s said to be frisky
She knows that the quest for true wisdom is risky
But rather than scripture
She holds an elixir
A cocktail of hormones and breast milk and whiskey