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Questions, Answers, Statements

Questions, Answers, Statements

In a world cluttered with questions, an answer can mean everything.

The little white church at the center of my childhood town advertised this through pamphlets that were handed out by its street-preaching recruiters.

It’s how my mother joined the congregation, right around the time that she was going through a separation with my father.

At the time, she didn’t know who she was anymore.

Just livin’ to live, ya’dig?

And this place and its people seemed to welcome her with an embrace that was filled with promise and opportunity, man; support that anyone who’s on the verge of cracking like an egg would need to maintain some sense of sanity.

So, she bought into it at first.

Then she realized that this hole-in-the-wall establishment was just a pop-up scheme that fed into a big goddamn machine, preying on the innocence that was born without a backbone.

And I remember the day she tried to u-turn us away from all of that shit, and how different these God-fearing, open-armed saints became.

They acted like she was their property and believed that with enough elbow grease, they could reel her right back into the boat like nothing ever happened.

Threats, aggression, fear tactics – whatever it took.

Unfortunately for them, there’s a sleeping bitch inside of her – half Ukrainian military, half saltwater crocodile. She takes no fucks, gives no fucks, and flipped that congregation on its head faster than you can say Vayikra.

She blew the whistle so hard on that congregation that the vibration of it took them completely off the map, and guess who came from that sleeping bitch’s womb? The Purple Pelican, that’s who.

And like her, I came into this world with a backbone as unbreakable as Ron Jeremy’s wang in 1978 – willing to accept a helping hand, but just as willing to call that helping hand out if it had a serpent wrapped around it.

Just like that congregation, Vayikra’s skin isn’t in the game to provide salvation to the ones that are weak enough to buy into their bullshit and maintain their membership for a lifetime.

Nah, they live to force people into thinking that they have the answer.

And if for some reason you feel obligated to question the answer they promote, you become a backstabbing deceiver and that free-thinker flame inside of you must be extinguished.

But some flames are eternal, ya’dig?

I respect my mother for going through what she did before coming back to the surface to bring that culty puddle of puke down, because my vision evolved from it.

I saw the bullshit that covers your formal robes well before you ever had a chance to lend me one of your dirty hands – well before you tried to make me believe in your answers.

And so did the rest of my Jet Set crew.

Contrary to your half-witted belief system, we ain’t like the Rainbow Party, ya’dig?

You try and take one of our own to satiate your sacrificial lust, and you will suck at least one of our schlongos.

And in a world that’s cluttered with questions, that’s called a statement – bitch.