We are peaceful warriors, generally, not given to sudden flashes
of wild rage or destructive fits.  The millinia of waiting in the shadows
as the "March of Civilization" weaves its scorched path across the planet,
has taught us a deep genetic patience, our souls close to nature, our hands 
dark with loam.  But now a new dawn blinds the weary eyes, awakening
us, sending shots of rarified plasma through our quiet veins, eyelids
widen as we wake up in the glare of the 20th century, staring transfixed
in the polychromatic blink of neon and the rush of noisy, metallic-bright
technoglitz.  And as we stand up, the giddy rush of warmth blasts into our
brains, the lightbulb sputters ON, and behold, we find that we are the
21st century, we are the future, we hold aloft the keys to the New
Kingdom, and the New Queendom as well. 
	But before the celebration crashes in on the utopian decline 
of Christian intolerance, bigotry, and death-worship, before the old king 
dies convulsing on the throne, bloated and sagging, We Shall Vent our 
Spleens upon the arrogant bastards who would set up the stake again, 
inviting us once more to the feast of fire!  To them we say:  I DONT 
THINK SO!!  Let the Addams Family credo be ours:  We gladly feast on 
those who would oppress us.  And now, for a diatribe of much deserved 
angst.....

	Yeah, I'm pissed.  Pissed like a bladder full of dark amber horse 
juice dropped from the 13th floor into a vat of amonia-angry surgical 
urine swimming with disease.  I'm taught with anger and quivering with 
rage and all shook up, because, my children, America from the ground 
floor of Pagan Central AirRaid Shelter & Flophouse reeks of suckiosity.  
It sucks because the Fundie Kristians (not including actual
followers of that Prince of Peace guy) have Uncle Sammy under a spell and 
the phabulous phreaks like me by the hairy balls or smooth white 
ovaries.  I mean we cant even say fuck, much less do it.  I mean the guns 
outnumber the hugs.  I mean the Rights and Flowers and warm summer puppy 
days with things that go fuzzy wuzzy are outnumbered by the jumping 
jackel-humping jackasses who, with one hand in out back pocket and the 
other holding onto the fly zipper, want to ram us all us up our sweet 
pink rectums with their brand of Goodliness & Righteousness.  
	We are the tiny locusts that decend upon the ripened fields of 
gluttony, arrogance, and morbidity to consume the fatted calf and lay 
bare the hypocracy and ignorance, the foolishness and hostility, the vast 
open sore of the Fundie plague that seeks to trap America in its web of 
deceit, false promises, and phantom threats.  They offer us a putrid 
banquet of fear, bigotry, paranoia, and subservience, and if we decline 
their poison and they cannot jolt us with terror, then they will abandon 
the field of honest discourse and flee like cowards to the realm of the 
politicos and police, trying to force us, through the rape of democracy 
and law, to bow down to them and suck their virtue, a gun pointed at our 
hearts.  
	But even in that they will fail, for their offerings are
unacceptable and shall be refused.  Their platitudes and appeals to an
imagainary golden past of moral hedgemony are ghosts without substance. 
Their rantings and ravings from pulpit and senatorial office and tee-vee
screen are the sounds of desperate losers who see the decline of their
ill-begotten power and flail all the more desperately.  Their carrot and
stick are both rotted, the stench of moral decay is around their doings,
and their words reek of the dead, dead past, dead future, dead corpses of
hate that fade with the dawn and the flush of color that we bring.
	We are the light and the dark, the sweet scent of day and the 
noble peace of night.  We stand with our brothers and sisters in camps 
spread across the meadow, and banners whip in the cool breeze:  the pink 
triangle, the lavender pyramid, the green, black, and red, the circle 
with cross pointing down from it, the symbols of a hundred hounded 
religions before us.  We stand and lift our flag, the beautiful pentacle, 
and though few eyes see it now, it will grow and flourish and spread its 
fragrance and love and loveliness over all the land ere its time also 
passes.