FROM THE PRESIDENT'S KITCHEN TABLE
I am in a delirium of ravenous anticipation over the success of your temptations in the recent political events in America. What a triumph over the enemy to bring so many souls so much closer to Our Father’s house. I congratulate all of your efforts to surround your patients with mind befuddling smoke leading them to choose politicians whose souls are firmly committed to doing Our Father’s work. May they be reliable forever! What a delight to think of all the tasty meals that deadly duo in the “White” House (How amusing if they only saw how black it is!) will help us prepare for Our Father’s table. Ahh - deviled eggs with arugula and devils’ food cake with fruits and nuts!
Toadspit and Pukespit, the carnal cousins, deserve special commendation and I always give credit where due. They implemented my strategy brilliantly! Their patients lied continuously on the campaign trail accusing their opponents of what they themselves were doing. I still see those faces of haughty disdain and ridicule – so effective with the mob who never looked past the slogans so artfully insinuated into their feeble minds. It reminds me of one of my own triumphs, “More from the fit, less from the unfit.” That imbecile thought she was so clever, never realized I fed her the line. And now she feeds us in gourmet style, not like so many insipid souls who fall haplessly into hell and make such a bland hash. She reveled in evil and what an exquisite filet of bloody innocents she makes. But enough reminiscing.
All you Slimes and Scabs working the media and the unions did an outstanding job convincing your patients that any means to gain the “good” end of getting their man re-elected was justified. The reports of their lies, the cheating and stealing sent a thrill up the leg of Our Father Below. I can hardly count the number of souls you led closer to the fires in the infernal kitchen.
But there are greater successes even than these. Please join me in screaming and howling for Fleascratch. Oh my dainty devil, my other self - what a triumph he achieved in our Babylon on the Hudson! Not only did his patient provide a photo op for our favorite son, he did it in the enemy’s name. His blog post that he was “following the example of [the enemy’s son] since he “welcomed sinners” made me snicker. And to say, “We are open to dialogue” as though the event was anything other than a photo op to confuse the idiots in the enemy’s church was priceless. “Dialogue!” How much confusion we’ve sown with that word! We have even convinced the enemy’s closest friends to delay responding to heresies. The fools think “dialogue” will win souls for the enemy. But if we postpone firm action long enough we create utter confusion. Look at Humanae Vitae! We delayed that document for years; the enemy’s church has still not recovered the ground lost. “Dialogue” brings many souls to Our Father’s dinner table to be the feast. Ah, the souls we’ve gained through interminable “dialogue!”
But let us move on. Special recognition also goes to Dunghill, who inspired his patient at Babylon’s newspaper of record to choose a brilliant photo for the front page. There he was, the enemy’s man in his red hat and wearing the enemy’s symbol, guffawing and leaning toward the president in classic body language of approval. We have perfected the skill of manipulating their bodies despite detesting the filthy things. But what fun to make the creatures say one thing with their mouths while saying the opposite with their nauseating protoplasm.
There was, unfortunately, one failure relating to the event. Spitefork could not convince that puking Brown woman to keep her mouth shut about the Cardinal refusing to attend an anti-abortion dinner where she was the keynote speaker. Advising her to cover up the truth for the sake of the Church was a mistake for which he will pay dearly. I told him that strategy was doomedl. Hypocrisy is much more effective when the fools don’t recognize it. Letting them see the Cardinal was more concerned about the bishops’ reputations than about dismembered babies was inexcusable! Needless to say, Spitefork is in solitary confinement. Our Father sentenced him to a millennium in the House of Correction for Incompetent Tempters.
Finally, congratulations to the Thorns assigned to the enemy’s uniformed troops ordained to perform his liturgical shams (as if He really would share his body and blood with the vermin!) and to the Shadies who tempt the consecrated religious vowed to his service. So many victories in those areas! Two claws up to the devils with the Nuns on the Bus. Every time they opened their mouths they spouted obfuscation and won followers. Well done! I particularly enjoyed their pharisaical claim to care about life from conception while they worked for our man. He will expand the blood lust exponentially. Compared to Herod’s paltry numbers, we anticipate a massive sea of dead baby bodies while the idiot nuns shed tears over wetland ferns. Many of them aren’t far from our table.
And don’t let me overlook Antcrap who inspired the sermon of his patient, the bearded buffoon in Baltimore, who told his stinking sheep they could support Q.6 to allow same sex “matrimony.” His performance received a standing ovation from the fools. Antcrap assures me the priest deliberately followed the letter of the law (reading his bishop’s statement asking Catholics to vote against the measure) while being disobedient by publicly disputing both his bishop and church doctrine. I can’t help snorting every time I think how easy it is to convince the creatures that anal sodomy between two men is identical to the enemy’s disgusting invention of marital intercourse. How I relish the thought of innocent children entrusted to those who substitute our unnatural vice for the enemy’s “natural law” which he says is in line with their “true” nature. Truth! The word sickens me. What is truth?
In closing, I wish to inform you that Our Father Below, in appreciation for your fine work, is hosting a Diabolical Awards banquet on the Feast of Tyrants. He assures me that vintage wines from the hierarchy cellars will be served. Several particularly good years are on the menu: a 16th century Bishops’ Cabernet from the Henry VIII shelf and Luther’s German Riesling from the heretics’ shelf. But the piece de resistance is an excellent 21st century American champagne, Cover Up, from the bishops’ conference shelf. Please bring the gift of a condemned soul appetizer for Our Father Below to thank him for his consideration in hosting this affair.
I remain infernally yours,
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