The Evangelical Spectator

The Natural Superiority of Baptists, Methodists and Presbyterians

It all starts at birth. The protestant emerges from the womb in a bright light. All excited about being alive. And of course, the Good Lord whispering his Gospel and blessing.

And at that moment when the protestant learns to walk, he or she enter the church. A star is born. A presbyterian, a baptist, a methodist are all a wonderful, mysterious, tall species.

Have you ever seen one? Take a look at any baptist. Any methodist. Any presbyterian. You ain't never seen nothing so beautiful. It takes the breath away. Big feet. Got large brains, big lungs capacity to sing them hymns. Big eyes, big butts and powerful muscles.

Got a big appetite. Don't invite them to dinner. They eat up all your food. Love fried chicken, biscuits, grits. Holy golly gosh. They eat your sofa and livingroom drapes.

Being protestants they is superior to others. They believe in the Bible. They pray all the time. They is full of faith. Got ears that hear a whisper a dozen miles away. They is just a bit more precocious than other denominations. Of course, their most obvious physical advantage is they got magnificent brains!

The natural superiority of protestants is pretty obvious. They read the bible, pray and go to church. They got a whole bunch of unique qualities, these remarkable denominations. All grace, strength, agility, and especially, them lovely long ears of these fantastic and fascinating creatures. Look into their eyes you can heaven sparkling back.

It don't take much time to join up with the consensus of Theological experts in recognizing that protestants have a great culture, that they invent or discover new things and ways and then communicate them effectively. They worship the Lord.

The rest of the denominations is lacking. Peculiar would be a good way to describe them other poor groups. They don't eat their cornbread. Don't pray nearly enough.

Protestants is superior. Far gooder than them beat down half-believing kind. Pray for them. They all done wrong. Lord love them.

Why I Am Afraid of Opinions?

Upon visiting a poetry forum, I was attacked by a ferocious, saber-toothed opinion. I suffered multiple bites on the legs and buttocks. I bled something awful. (I am missing two toes from my right foot.)

I've noticed I tremble in the presence of even the smallest and weakest opinion. I sweat profusely. My opinion does not serve to defend me from the opinions I encounter. I am helpless.

I mention this not because I seek sympathy. But I wish to warn those unsuspecting folks that there are wild opinions about. They prowl. They hide in innocent remarks. They attack perfectly innocent people. Sometimes at night. Also during the day.

An opinion has regard for who it attacks. It only wants to survive.

And what happens? My opinion has been lost. Eaten by a wild, four-legged opinion.

I am afraid to go on the internet now. I sit cowering in my livingroom. My dog growls when even turn on the computer. Or open the newspaper, for he knows the Op-Ed page may well thrash me, beat me within an inch of my life.

I seek help. The wild opinion has an appetite for flesh and blood. I hear it roar. I smell its meaty breath.

I now wear a steel helmet, army boots. I don't wish to be swallowed whole by a man-eating opinion. I want only to live out my life in peace.

I have pepper spray, too. I seek to defend myself. What am I to do in my condition? I am its prey. Merely a morself for its dinner.

Pray for me.