As The Sect’s first ever reporter, and its only member with permission to leave our community, I serve as the conduit through which all of us experience the outside world. Obviously, The Sect provides for all our earthly needs, and the Lord’s children outside our community will burn in fiery, eternal damnation, but it is still important that we remain tethered to this terrestrial plane, and understand the many reasons why they will burn in Hell.
Brothers, I am proud that my travelogues make the cockles of your hearts sing, as well tickle the singing cockles of the women and kinderfolk.
But I would be doing The Sect a disservice by only sharing my genial interactions with the kindly but hellbound English. For many a queer colloquy has shook me to my core.
This is one of those colloquies.
Resting at a crossroads reviewing the Grundsatzens Scrolls, I met a gentlesir of a most unusual fashion. His technicolor hair stood two stories high if it were a foot. His tattered clothing was festooned with metallic gewgaws. Perhaps most peculiar of all, a patch of cloth as black as Satan’s zippers, inscribed with the words “Bad Religion” was affixed to his cowhide leather outer coat. Curious, I asked him, “English, of which religion do you speak ill?” He then explained to me his personal creed.
Related: Meet the Man Who Doesn’t Like the Beatles. He’s So Interesting! God Don’t You Just Want to Fuck Him Right Now?!
Brothers, the nature of this gentleman’s spiritual non-conformity is not a scripture-based mortal offense such as slathering your skin with juicy wet horse meat, rounding the corners of your head, or sacrificing an oxen with crushed testiceles.
Nach, this “punk,” as he referred to himself, insisted that Herr Gott, our Lord above, does not exist. That His divine words are empty verses born of man. Brothers, have any of you heard of such a thing? How could one even conceive this?
I was repulsed, but admittedly intrigued by the words of this unusual man. It was immediately clear that punk’s lack of faith comprised the majority of his personality. Furthermore, I believe that he is one to take every opportunity to inform others of his “atheism.” Truly this one attribute makes him fascinating, an ideal romantic partner, and someone that is a joy to speak with at festive gatherings!
Are there perhaps more in this world who do not believe in God? If so how many? Five? 15 people? Surely, not more that 100, otherwise Herr Gott would have justly and swiftly smoted them.
But let us suppose for a moment — could this man be correct? Have Mater, Pater, and the Elders been less than forthright? Yay, Is it possible that we could have been boiling calves in their own mother’s milk lest the words of a false god?
Nay, our Lord must be real. We’ve certainly not been depriving ourselves of many a great pleasure for nothing. So, no need to devote any more time questioning our faith.
I am certain that, much like his bizarre fashion, this man’s atheism is simply an anomalous result of his undoubtedly damaged psyche. And that atheism is likely not a common belief held within his punk community.
Now, I must bid you farewell. But before I leave for my next adventure, I’ll sign off as I always do. By giving thanks to our Lord Kryzlak, the spindly, many-limbed, serpentine goat monster we worship as our God. Go with Kryzlak, brothers!
Article by Patrick Coyne
Chase those Thetans away with a Hard Times T-shirt!:
Hard Style is a lifestyle blog by the people who brought you The Hard Times. Like us on Facebook to keep up with all our posts.