So now that is looks as though Mitt Romney is the man for the Republicans (and, let’s face it, you couldn’t look more like “The Man” than Mitt; he looks like they pulled him from the set of a Cialis commercial), the self-appointed Christian authentication committee seems about to give him a failing rating. Depending on whose story you listen to (and/or beleive, because I think some of these people are – gasp – lying sacks of shit, and here I thought that was a no-no according to one of their precious commandments, though I guess that’s probably covered by one of those hidden footnotes, like the ones that cover the exceptions to the “Though Shalt Not Kill” one), it’s either because Mormons are Jesusy enough, or that Mitt isn’t enough of a Mormon.

This is why their religious bullshit should be forbidden from anything even remotely related to the government – and that includes political campaigns, speeches, you name it. Forget about the “separation” of Church and State; I want a divorce. Talking – or asking – about religious beliefs should be considered rude and distasteful in public – like asking somebody which sexual position they prefer or talking about the size, color, consistency, and height above the water level of the shit you took this morning. Just not done.

You’d think these Christian Cultists would understand that, but then I suppose home schooling has its limitations. I mean, first you have to pretend you believe in the invisible man in the sky, but after a while that’s not good enough. So then you have to fake allegiance to one sort of Christian cult or another, but then it turns out you’re not the “right” kind of Christian if you wear magic underwear and believe Jesus roamed amongst the dinosaurs in North Dakota.

Pretty soon you can’t be a certified Christian unless you’re speaking in tongues and handling snakes – or demonstrating at funerals because the United States isn’t sufficiently homophobic.

Pandering to the crazy little sub-cult du jour just isn’t sustainable – and is certainly no way to run a country.

All you have to do is look at how fucked-up everything is to see that.

Happy Birthday, John.