I Want My Own Light of Judgment
Okay, really geeky title, but I’ve got a relatively serious post to blog about.
I saw this.
Simply put, someone’s got issues. Heck, we all have issues, but beating up a man and his teenaged son over a golf argument is just retarded.
These are the kinds of people I’d like to bathe in the incinerating light of a heavenly beam of judgment. That’ll be quick and relatively painless—maybe apart from the feeling of getting your skin ripped off, your eyeballs stewing in their sockets, and your innards boiling—but it sure proves a point when the surrounding countryside gets reduced to molten glass.
Or maybe we could just take these people, string them up with nylon cord, hang them by their ankles with chains from palm trees and have them swaying in the breeze above Roxas Boulevard. Sounds peaceful and idyllic, yes. We’ll feed them. Just to have the dizziness from the swaying motion and being inverted force them to throw up. That’s before the insects start burrowing into their skin. And the birds start pecking at the skin to get at the insect larvae.
Don’t worry, we’ll have a medic check up on them every now and then. So that it lasts longer.
Look, be glad I’m not in charge of the Justice Department, foul fiends, and that the most I can throw at you are these stinging words. May God have mercy on your souls, because I’m sure He has a special spot reserved just for you in Gehenna. If I were in charge, I’d have smote thee with white-hot irons over and over again.