A mostly-true story which I will explain later.

Having lived in agrestic caliginosity--which, incidentally, served to embrangle me--I am convinced of the apodeictic nature of the parable of the wheat and the tares. Some might consider that caducity on my part, but I consider it compossible to hold to the truth of Scripture in the midst of post-modernism. Though the muliebrity of certain of those who consider themselves faithful pastors sounded as a skirr in my ears, their oppugnant, niddering verbosity only served to enable me to practice mansuetude, rather than vilipend toward them.

I also experienced for the first time the abstergent nature of private Confession during my time in North Dakota, which served to exuviate the guilt of my sin. The pastor to whom I confessed, a fubsy, olid, somewhat griseous man wearing a nitid, cruciform periapt, pronounced sin a malison, a collection of recrement. He then spoke the words of absolution to me, which served as a roborant. He also attempted to vaticinate regarding the end times, but his words lacked fatidical conviction.



For an explanation, read this: http://editorialass.blogspot.com/2008/09/dying-words-contest.html?ext-ref=comm-sub-email