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I come not to reassure all who call the Christ, Lord, that their places in Heaven are certain. That you who profess with your lips that Jesus is the Son of God are surely written down in the Book of Life. The prophets spoke wisely to some out there, that they praise God with their lips but inwardly are their hearts inclined toward resentment. Do you not have eyes to see? You must not think like those in religious power, who toe the line of a strange messiah; that fellow cannot be the Jesus Christ I have met. Your righteousness cannot be like those who accept that things cannot change, that it has always been like that: the rich get richer, the poor get poorer. I think I must try to love as Jesus Christ loved us, and sing my song to the sinners, the Godless, the heathens, the pagans, the addicts, the perverts, the prostitutes, those who dwell in the darkness by choice or profession. And how will you love? How will you do God’s work?

For my part, you may call me Saint Jude the Tuned In — the twin of Philip K. Dick, who is Saint Jude the Tuned Out — and I am patron saint of all gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgender, transsexuals, transvestites, and all you other FREAKS out there. And no, I’m not gay, etc.: these do deserve a patron saint, and therefore, since I so have advocated their cause, the higher ups deigned to put that patronage squarely on my shoulders. And I am surely glad of it. Those who would malign these who are different, who give no effort to understand, your own excuses shall be ignored. What hope is there for you, who burn the bridges you yourselves must cross in the pathway of salvation? As you have judged, so shall you be judged. Love returns to its source, and so does hate.


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The Great Blasphemy