The War on Christianity

Taking the Fight to the Christian Right

Menu Bar

Recruiting Womankind
for the
War on Christianity

Under the rule of the Church that we have been subjugated to, for the last 1800 years, women have been the most persecuted. They have been mistreated, molested, raped, treated as chattel property, held in bondage by their husbands and burned alive, hanged and drowned for being perceived as witches.

I actually think that womankind, during the Christian Reign of Terror, which is to say the last 1800 years, have a had a worse time of it, than the black slaves here in America, or even the Native Americans. Look, black men got the vote before women in America, nothing could make the status of women in America more clear than that actuality. I assert that the subordination of women in our society is a direct result of Church Doctrine and it continues to this day.

Are you ready to fight back, woman? Are you tired of being treated, as a second-class citizen? Do you understand that it's the Church that did this to you? Will you help me to destroy the political influence of the Church here in America? You have great power in you, and it's time for you to exercise your power.

Here are my thoughts. Bear with me, I have a few personal experience stories in this piece, but I'll bring it together in the end. And it will all make sense.

Carol

Carol was a sweetheart, my high school girlfriend. We were both Seniors in the class of 1974 at Everett High, Everett Washington. She was, shall we say, pleasantly plump? Maybe 20 lbs. overweight, and I was the computer nerd. We were both outsiders, but for different reasons.

Anyway, somehow, we found each other. I was nineteen, she was seventeen, and she was a sweet woman. I liked her a lot; we had great conversations and enjoyed each other's company. I was emancipated at the time and finishing out my last High School year, living in my own apartment. Robert, my stepfather sent me $50/week support. And I had a car. Carol and I fogged up the windows of that car more than once, making out in the back seat. She was a really good kisser.

One day we were having a picnic, on her uncle's farm, under a hundred-year-old oak tree. She confessed to me that day, that she was no longer a virgin and that she had lost her maidenhood to her uncle. And I thought, Well, that's a good thing, you're not a virgin. Then she suggested that maybe we should get married.

"Wait a minute," I said. "You're going to Washington State; your parents can afford to send you to college and that's what you should do. My parents can't, so I'm going into the Marines in June a thousand miles away. Look girl, you go to college, sew your wild oats, have sex with fifty different men and maybe I would consider marrying you."

Well, that didn't go over very well. She was shocked, started to cry, got up and ran away and that was the end of that date. Look I was trying to get laid, okay. But then again, I was nineteen years old and had no clue how to approach a woman for sex. But you know, fifty previous lovers, is a good standard. I've married three women in this lifetime, and they all had had sex with at least fifty men before me.

The Stupidest Question

Nance was a sweet woman. We had had sex once before this evening, so this was a second date. She showed up in my apartment, seeking my help. She was seeking a new job and since I had a computer and a printer, I was helping her to write her resume that night. We spent a couple of hours writing that resume. I had to dig out of her all the great things she had done in the past and put it on paper. In the end she was impressed about what this said about herself, and with me for having mentored her.

So, while she was proof reading the final copy, I stepped out. I went across the street to the Liquor Store and brought back two bottles of Pink Andres Champagne. When I showed up with this gift, she laughed. We drank the Champagne, though I found out later she would have preferred non-pink.

Together we had produced a wonderful Resume, and she was quite happy about that. So, she rewarded me by crawling into my bed that night. Let's just put it this way; we had some serious "Hot Sex" that night. OMG! That young woman was a Hottie.

But, you know, this was only the second time I had had sex with this woman, and I was timid. At the end of that coital experience, she was like shaking and quaking. I thought I had put her into an epileptic fit, I thought I had hurt her. I was worried. It took a while for her to calm down. But then I got up on my elbow, looked down upon her laying there in the bed, and asked, 'The Stupidest Question'. "Was it good for you?"

She looked up at me and rolled her eyes. Then she got up on her elbow, facing me, looked me square in the eyes, grabbed me by the ears, harshly, not quite drawing blood, but close. She shook my head, pulled me close, so that we were touching nose to nose, and said unto me, emphatically and in a no-nonsense teacher tone, "Richard! I've never had an orgasm I didn't like."

Oh, My God! I couldn't believe it, it couldn't possibly be true. But there it was, she just said it. It was undeniable, and irrefutable. Holy fucking shit, GIRLS LIKE SEX TOO!

I know that this sounds silly today, but this was a revelation for me back there and then. You see, I grew up in the fifty's and sixties, and in that world, it was just understood, women didn't like sex. They only did it to make babies. And if you, as a man wanted to get laid, you had to conquer the woman, or ply her with drugs or alcohol, to get her to spread her legs for you. That was the reality I grew up in. It's not that way today, but it was then. Back then, the Church had an absolute stranglehold on the culture here in America. Sex before marriage was absolutely forbidden. It was a different world, way back then.

Anyway, Nance enlightened me. She had a list of all the men she had had sex with. And she said I was number fifty-three on her list. And I thought to myself when I heard that, 'Fifty-Three, that's cool, more than fifty. Hey, you qualify Girl, as marriage material.' She was the very best lover I have had in this lifetime, enthusiastic, playful and & fun loving, and unabashedly unashamed…when she wanted to be. Practice may not make perfect, but it certainly does make for better. She was a great, well-practiced lover.

She also turned out to be the Shaming Shrew, but that's a different story. She taught me everything there is to know about shame and shame induction, for which I am eternally grateful. It was a difficult and painful experience to learn those lessons, but I am so grateful for the knowledge that I walked away with after 20-years of marriage. In the end I dumped her ass, for being the Shame Inducting Shrew. But you know, strangely enough, I still love that woman, my second wife. Many found memories.

Oh, and by the way, that epileptic fit I thought I had put her into? Yeah, well, hum, girls call that quivering, and it's a good thing.

How I Became a Feminist

Naked bodies, tangled limbs, oh my god, who's going to win?

It was 1980 something. It was a Seminar called About Sex from est. This was like the third time I had taken this specific class. It was at the Bonaventure Hotel in Los Angeles, which has since been torn down. I guess there were about 200 people there that night. It was a three-hour evening class with a break in the middle.

 During the break, I was standing in the reception area, which was an area outside the Conference Rooms, quite large, maybe 60x200 feet, filled with people during that break. I happened to catch the eyes of a woman way across the area 100 feet away. She caught my eye and began to march toward me. This was not a swagger, this was not a saunter, she marched up to me like a WM, a Woman Marine, keeping eye contact the whole way.

When she reached me, she didn't say a word, she just put her arms around my neck and planted a big sloppy wet French kiss on my face. And me, being the young 24-year-old virile ex-Marine, well, I placed my hands upon her hips, pulled her close, and kissed her right back. I DID NOT grab her ass. While I admit I had that thought in the moment, I decided against it, the kiss was good enough. That kiss lasted about 30-seconds, she languished. Then she broke the kiss, kept her arms around my neck and leaned back to look into my eyes. I looked at her, and said, "Okay woman, you have my attention." Then she threw her head back and laughed.

Look, I had just gotten out of the Marine Corp. I was a buffed-out boy at the time, though I didn't realize that. I could still fit into my 30x30 jeans and had those six-pack abs. Looking back now, I can see how she would have looked upon me and found me attractive from 100 feet away. I went home with her that night and we had great sex.

Her name was Martha, but she chose to be called Marty, because Marty could be male or female, and she was a lawyer. She had put her divorced husband through Medical School, after which he dumped her for a younger woman. So, she picked herself up, and put herself through Law School, and moved on. So, that's how I met Marty, she was my red-headed Irish Cougar. For those of you not familiar with the word "cougar", it means an older woman bedding a younger man. She was 36, I was 24, and that relationship was great fun for me. Woman in charge.

Anyway, after a few weeks of dating, I moved in with her. And we had a good time together. She was a really sweet woman, and almost motherly to me.

Then there came the day, we had just had our evening coital experience, and we were laying comfortably naked, next to one another in the bed. Pillow talk. She was going on about this or that experience she had had that day. I don't remember the details, but I think it had to do with some kind of feminist march she had participated in. Then she asked me this question, "Well, you're a feminist, aren't you?"

"Well, I don't know Marty. What's a feminist?" I replied, innocently. She got up on her elbow, looked down upon me, looked me square in the eyes like the Prosecuting Attorney, and "WRONG ANSWER" was written all over her face. Then she seemed to falter, in the next three seconds, her expressions changed. "Maybe he's not like that misogynistic bastard who dumped me. Maybe, he's just a dumb ignorant child who just doesn't know." Which, of course was closer to the truth.

Her rage receded, then she looked at me calmly and said, "Well, you agree that a woman doing equal work as a man, should get equal pay, right?"

And I responded, "Well, if a woman is doing the same job as a man, of course, she should get equal pay." She smiled, like a chasseur cat, she had won. Then she said, "Then you're a feminist."

Holy fucking shit! What did I just say? Richard, you are on the Hot Seat! My vibration rate shot up from 5,000 comfortable cycles per second to 50,000 cycles per second, it was a TERROR moment. In the next four seconds, I had thousands of thoughts going through my head. Things like; How would other men see me if I declare myself a feminist? Am I willing to give up my male privilege? And all the other ramifications of agreeing to create myself as a feminist. What's my answer going to mean to this relationship? Hey, I was getting laid! Every morning and every night! And I did not want to screw up this good thing I had with her.

So, I picked my words carefully, and after about four seconds under the watchful eyes of the Prosecuting Attorney, I replied, "Well, Marty, if that's your definition of what it means to be a Feminist, I guess I'm a Feminist." She smiled broadly, took my cheeks in her hands, and kissed me deeply, sealing the deal. So, that's how I became a Feminist.

While this is a sweet story, there is a lesson to be learned here. Your agreements matter. They define your reality. And they have consequences. As a Feminist, I can never vote for a Republican, because the Christian Right, which is the base of the Republican party, wants to overturn Roe Vs. Wade. And I cannot vote for that, or anyone who would vote to deny a woman her right to choose.

Now, I made this choice. It was my choice to make, and even though it was done on the spot under stressful circumstances, I still stand by that choice, forty years later. In choosing to create myself as a Feminist, I've chosen to stand as a Champion for Womankind. So be it. I'm good with that. On this one, I have no regrets. God knows the women on this planet need men like us to stand up, as Champions on their behalf. But then again, in today's world, I think they're doing a pretty damn good job standing up for themselves; "Me Too" movement, as an example.

"In the beginning, there was the word," Mathew (1:1). And this is the point I want to get across to you. Mathew was not talking about linguistics. He was talking about your word. Your agreement, your promise to pay, or that for which you have chosen to stand for, "that this shall be your truth". Your word matters, and your word matters because you are God, and Gods word matters. This is how your reality gets created, boys & girls. It's all about your agreements, made at free will choice. And that's the important lesson that I want you to take away from this story.

So, to finish the story. In the beginning, Marty was on the rebound, she had been dumped by her husband, for a younger woman. She picked me to be her lover for a time. And she was a sweet woman, a Loving Lady and a Lusty Lass, my Sweet Red-headed Irish Cougar, with a fine, soft and silky ass. A fond memory I will cherish forever. But in the end, she dumped me too, for an older man.

The Bitch Brigade and the Pussy Patrol

I was sitting at the bar at the Stopwatch, a Pub in Makawao, Maui, when this pretty woman came up, sat next to me and started a conversation. She was new to the island, and she said to me, "a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet." Now, that's a sweet thought.

We had a good time together, she reached into her purse and pulled out a hundred pictures related to her life, and told story after story related to the pictures, and I was impressed. She was an accomplished woman, an Airline Transport Pilot who had been a Bush Pilot in Alaska, flown for the BLM in a Twin Otter, and flew as a commercial pilot for Rocky Mountain Airways and Fiji Airlines. She was impressive.

Anyway, at one point in the conversation she looked up at me and asked, "You're not a Republican, are you?"

To which I replied, "No, I tend to be Libertarian in my political views. You know, socially liberal and fiscally conservative."

Then she smiled, looked at me and said, "Good, because I could never date a Republican." In that moment I felt like I had just dodged a bullet. You know women have the way they speak, and we men have to translate their words into our-speak. What she said was "I could never date a Republican", but what I heard, as a man in that situation was "I could never fuck a Republican."

But, you know, I took that hopefully. At least she was thinking about maybe crawling into bed with me in that moment, or she wouldn't have asked the question. We didn't hook up that night, but that woman and I did get it together a couple weeks later. But it's that question, that matters, "You're not a Republican, are you?"

Okay, young twenty-something single woman, this is me trying to recruit you, as an Amazon Warrior for this "War on Christianity". Do you remember in the last story, how Marty got that agreement out of me, to agree to be a feminist? Well, that's what I'm asking you to do.

You know, if you're a young single woman in your twenties. You will have sex with twenty, fifty, or maybe even a hundred men before you settle down with one, make babies and create a family. What I'm asking of you, is that you never bed a boy who wants to overturn Roe V. Wade. I don't care how handsome he is, just say no. Look, if he wants to overturn Roe V. Wade, he's a misogynistic bastard who doesn't care about women, and will hurt you in the end. So, dump him. Not that boy!

So, when you come across some good-looking guy that you think you might be interested in bedding, before you do that, ask him, "Will you promise me that you will never vote for anyone, for any office, who would seek to overturn Roe V. Wade?" Or something to that affect. And it could be as simple as "You're not a Republican, are you?" Use your own words, get creative. Got this point?

Twenty something men, they don't care about politics, policy or party, if they vote Republican they do so, because their parents voted that way. What they really care about is gaining access to those two holes between your legs. To be blunt.

But, you know young woman, I wonder if you understand just how much power you have over that man who wants to bed you? Twenty-something boys are not very bright, they will fight, kill and die for pussy. Look, I'm not asking you to bed any man you weren't interested in bedding anyway. All I'm asking is that you get that agreement from him first, before you sit on his penis. And if he does agree, take him home, bed him and you bed him well, reward that boy. Because you just turned a Republican into a Democrat, Girl.

There are some boys on this planet who have absolutely no integrity and will do anything to get what they want; I mean just consider Donald Trump. But most men are honest, once they give their word, they will keep their word. So, if they promise to not vote for anyone who might seek to overturn Roe V. Wade, then they can never vote for a Republican, because at the base of the Republican Party are Evangelical Christians, who seek to overturn Roe V. Wade. This is what Marty did to me, and you can do it to your lovers too. And you should.

Sex is a woman's power, exercise your power woman. Get that agreement before you bed that boy. Unless, of course, you want to go back to the days where women where sticking metal clothes hangers up their vaginas, puncturing their wombs, and bleeding out in the kitchen. Is that what you want for your daughters? Do you want to go back to Medieval times?

I want to create a reality, where every Christian Male understands:

If you want to overturn Roe Vs. Wade,
Then you little boy, aren't ever getting laid,
No nookie for you boy,

Young ladies, this is how we turn Texas Blue; Louisiana, Alabama and Mississippi too. If 100,000 women turn fifty men each in Texas from Republican to Democrat, then we can turn Texas as Blue as California. It will be like Sherman's march through the South, with the Pussy Patrol on Point.

You know young woman. twenty-something boys are stupid, they will do anything for sex. Getting this agreement out of them is an easy thing for you to do. And that agreement matters, because that boy is God, and God's word matters. And that agreement will last a lifetime for him, even if it's just a one-night stand for you. Reality is created as a function of agreements made at free-will choice and it does not matter how one enters into those agreements.

And this can be fun for you too. You know, sex is fun, everybody loves their orgasm. You'll have a good time doing this and feel your power over the men in your bed. It's not like I'm asking you to do anything you weren't going to do anyway. Have fun along the way and enjoy yourself, young woman.

Conquest

I sat and talked a while ago,
With a woman who was in the know,
And began to see what's really so,
When men and women relate,

I asked her of fellatio,
A subjugation, yes or no,
She talked of how she loved it so,
And surely, I must jest,

I know it's strange, but I had bought,
That man's the conqueror, woman's not,
And I have conquered quite a lot,
The memories are great,

To turn a man to a quivering mass,
Of jelly, she said was a blast,
Ultimate power found at last,
Conquest, yes, it's true,

We talked of sex quite candidly,
And slowly I began to see,
How she was able to conquer me,
I laughed, it was the best,

It's great to see it's not a sin,
The truth is that we both can win,
This conquering game for women and men,
But who's conquering who?

This is a war, the "War on Christianity." The war to preserve a woman's right to have free access to abortion services, when and if you and/or your daughters require those services. It's in your best interest to do this. Your life and the lives of you daughters are on the line here.

You know, it never ceases to amaze me, what a boy will do for a blow job. And if he sees he has a chance with you, he will agree, 100% certain.

You know, if you ever find yourself in a War, it's always better to be the aggressor, rather than to be the defender. Aggress my Amazon Warrior, exercise your power, woman. Get that agreement, it matters. Conquer that boy.

So, Say I,

Richard the Christ, God Physically Incarnate

 

Menu Bar