“We’re in the end-times, man.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“The world is evil.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I can’t stand the gays.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Why don’t you care?”

“Because the News is all-about making you care. I don’t want to think about it.”

“But the gays!”

“Why would I care about the gays? Don’t you have real problems? I know that I do. I’m not confused. I like women. I’m trying to get a girlfriend, but I keep talking to you. Don’t you want to get paid and get laid?”

“You’re evil—the love of money is the root of all evil.”

I went to church.

The pastor described Armageddon.

“Jesus will split the heavens in two and walk out of the clouds! The dead will rise and the evil will be punished!

After his sermon, he walked up to me and shook my hand. “You write some hell-of-a-good poetry,” he said.

I looked at my friend, with an expression that said, “Dear God, he’s been reading my blog.”

“Now, why have you been absent from church?”

“I’ve been trying to connect with my source.”

“What?”

“That’s what all good sorcerers do.”

“Blasphemy!”

It seems that I’m a pariah, everywhere I go. It’s a type of bird (kind of like a parrot) that hides in a palm tree, and whistles at girls in bikinis.