Good morning brothers and sisters.

Welcome to the Church of the Begotten Forgotten.

You can call me Rev.

Thank you for coming to our house of worship this fine Sunday morning for our special “Raise the Roof for Justice” service. I am standing on the garage roof of my brother-in-law’s car repossession business because I don’t have my own cathedral just yet. The Lord will provide just as soon as you donate the cash we need.

We stand together as the begotten forgotten. Don’t ever forget our mission. Begotten, forgotten and unrotten to the core, we come together as God-fearing, anti-queering men and women of the Lord, soldiers of the resurrection, guardians of the womb and the tomb and the room where our Savior never sleeps. That room is in our hearts, people, no matter how bad the heartburn. We, too, are awake. Jesus is our antacid.

Do I hear an Amen?

Amen.

My sermon this morning is meant to assure you that no way will your right Reverend perform a sacred wedding ceremony for that gay blade sex fiend radio talk show host JayJay Bone. Or should I say JayJay Boner.

The crowd gasps.

That’s right.

I said Boner, as in Mr. Boner, a true blew ho-mo-sexxxxxual who desires a return to the Roman orgy atmosphere of erectile functions and disco madness designed to bring down civilization into the gutter of interior design and fluorescent cocktails.

The Rev pauses to think to himself…. Not that such a drastic societal change would be such a bad idea. I’m anxiously awaiting some serious rapture myself and pray each night to emerge from the end days with a teenage born-again exotic dancer mistress so I can boogaloo down Broadway myself… But that’s private.

Back to the sermon on the dismount.

Jesus orders you to get off that young man, JayJay Boner. We’ve seen your kind before, fiddling while your bone burns with passion. Heavenly Father, give us strength to face JayJay Boner who wants to make his privates public, marrying that young caballero, Buck, as in buck naked.

That’s why I implore you to ignore the video Mr. Boner has threatened to release that shows yours truly, your righteous Rev, skinny-dipping with a harlot in the church campground swimming hole.

I did not do the breast stroke with that woman.

I baptized her, dipping her body in the river of salvation to cleanse her spirit of all the foul deeds that led to her demise. Poor Betsy, having now succumbed to the COVID social disease, a plague with three more capital letters than VD, needs you to make a contribution in her name.

Do I hear an Amen?

Amen.

Do I have a witness? No? Thank God. No witnesses.

That’s what the riots are all about, too.

Mayhem and insurrection brought on by disrespect for law and order. If white officers order the black people to be guilty then the black people are guilty. We love the black people as long as they do what we tell them to do. That’s called democracy. Is the Statue of Liberty black?

I rest my case.

The crown mumbles loudly.

Halleluiah, amen and praise the Lord, they say.

The Rev continues.

Black people don’t understand when white law enforcement stops them because they look guilty because they’re black and black criminals fill America’s prisons because they are guilty that they should cooperate because the cops said so.

What’s so hard to understand about not looking like a black criminal suspect? Police detective wear their badges around their necks so why don’t the black people wear their ID papers around their necks? So they can commit voter fraud? Buy steaks and lobster with food stamps? Have more babies for free?

The crowd cheers and stretches their arms to the heavens.

Why fight and resist arrest when white police officers simply ask if you raped or murdered somebody because you look like you could rape and murder somebody? Go to death rows across America and ask the black people if they raped and murdered somebody. They’ll deny their crimes just like the black people police stop and frisk on the streets while trying their best to protect and serve by putting their lives on the line.

That’s why we’re having our rally bigger and better than ever. Not the open-up-America rally we planned but a Protect and Serve rally, to honor all our white police officers who work on the front lines of black terrorism.

Do I hear an Amen?

Amen.

So forget about little Mr. Boner.

Forget about the militant black people.

The Lord is the new sheriff in town, America’s ultimate police chief.

Do I hear an Amen?