Those Filthy Disgusting Magazines

I've been having all sorts of flashbacks since starting this blog . . . I think this must be what drug addicts who have almost overdosed must feel like. Or perhaps an analogy closer to home, a soldier who has had one-too-many mortars explode around him. Actually, I can almost feel the bits of shrapnel lodged in my mind as I write . . .

One such vivid piece of shrapnel-memory that dislodged itself from my illustrious past as I was reading my Bible from cover to cover this weekend, is my hugely successful campaign against pornography. When the current evil black regime succeeded in what is arguably the greatest political tragedy and took power from the God-ordained white leaders of this country, the floodgates of filth were thrown wide open. Our kids used to be able to go to the local cafe and buy comics and sweets, but suddenly after 1994 they were confronted by the likes of Playboy and Hustler. Filth from the pit of hell! Disgusting evil naked cavorting men and women.

The churches did nothing. But I sprang into action. I raised a lot of cash from my Right Wing friends in America -- I will simply refer to them as The Righteous Brothers -- I used some of the money to buy a nice new car. And I thought my wife would look pretty good in those sexy lingeries, so I bought her a few on mailorder (I spotted the ad in Playboy, I think). What I wanted to work out is if you could achieve the same levels of titillation that I experienced when I page through those dirty magazines displayed in full view of our innocent children. I used the rest of the money to buy up as many copies of porno I could find in shops. In the interests of research, I filed several copies in the secret bunker beneath my garage, and I burned the rest in a public bonfire while preaching hellfire. A very symbolic act. I have a few friends in the police force, so they never arrested me, even though I almost set fire to the park where I held the protest.

I am ashamed to admit that watching my wife parade around in those naughty bits of lace after the kids went to sleep did not come near to the excitement I felt when I read the porn in my now not-so-secret bunker. (I can survive a nuclear fallout for up to six months down there, by the way.) I have held onto those very worn copies of Playboy and Hustler, despite the fact that our protests against porn crippled those magazines so badly that they either closed shop or went underground -- not far enough, because they should never have stopped digging until they reached the fiery pits of hell where they came from in the first place!

Every now and again, when I'm bored having sex with my only wife in the missionary position, I make an excuse after family devotions of checking on supplies in our nuclear hideout. After touching myself inappropriately while re-examining those perverted magazines, I retire to my study to pray against the evil influences of porn all over the world.

I just want to tell all those pastors out there who are addicted to porn, I know how difficult it is to stand up for righteousness and be tempted at the same time. I mean, once I even tried to have sex with my always willing wife in a different position after doing a stock-take in my bunker. I stopped just in time before perverting myself and turning her into a cheap whore! It's tough, but remember, it would not be a real fight unless there were casualties and fatalities. Just don't let it be you!

Fight the good fight.