Happy Easter, dear reader, and thank you for those who have stuck with me through the previous two entries that described the hell of my life before and in the early days of the Reign of the Righteous. Well, my presence here is proof that, despite my stubbornness, the patient ministrations of the staff of the reformatory camp finally open my heart to the love of Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior. I urge you, if you know someone who is doubting our leadership or their own King of Kings, to turn them into the local reformatory administration, for if even such a hardened heart as mine can be opened, anyone's can.

Those who had read to me rejoiced greatly at my conversion and gently helped restore me to the physical health that my foolish resistance had stolen from me. I was so week that they had to spoonfeed me chicken broth. It was emblematic, I think, of the spiritual weakness that caused the need for them to slowly teach me the correct interpretation of the Holy Text. (I had, you see, bought into wicked so-called gnostic heresies and even had a touch of Catholic polytheism left in me-- the latter weakness being typical of those of my ethnic background. Those of Irish and Polish blood are rightfully excluded from the Government, though we benefit from the Reign.)

My willful self-starvation has left me with a heart problem, which I take as a reminder of my greater error of heart. I am even grateful for it. My patience and acceptance of it is a sign of my change, as I would surely before have demanded the use of murdered infants' cells in an attempt to find a cure. Now, I accept it as God's will.

My progress in camp was considered quite rapid after my conversion and, within a few months, I left the building for the first time for my baptism in a nearby lake. A few weeks later, I was given my new life. I work as a receptionist for my ward's church and live in the single-women's dorm just a few blocks away, as I've no father to be returned to. We are supervised at all hours there by local matrons, and I thank God for their kind donation of time to protect women like me from lingering weaknesses.

My life is not as flashy, ambitious, or expansive as it was when I lived in sin. I do not travel. My writing is limited to the cautionary and, I hope, occasionally inspirational tales I post here. But it is a life with the promise of Heaven to come and a life lived according the Holy rules of the Government of the Righteous.



Confused? This is the last of three entries for the Blog Against Theocracy blogswarm.

The worst of my sinful time was that between the rise of the Government of the Righteous and my admission to the reformatory camp. In fact, I should say that it extends to my confession there, as until that moment, I continued to sin, though the staff prevented me from more active transgressions. The Reign of the Righteous brought to light the Truth of salvation that had been hidden from me by the evils of a so-called secular society, and it it pains me deeply that I, like a hardened sinner, resisted.

Now, you will still find some heresy in me. You see, I believe that the Reign of the Righteous began with the presidency of George W. Bush. Of course, he did not eliminate abortion or make the detention camps he established into true reformation centers. It is important to recognize, however, that he laid the groundwork for so much of what we now take for granted. Among other things, his administration fought for the government's right to detain certain citizens, began the holy struggle against the false theocracies of the Middle East (though he couldn't call it that), and began the slow process of turning charity initiatives over to churches. To the best of his ability, he put godly people into the executive and judicial branches. In all this, he was opposed by the remnants of the old judicial system and the legislative branch. It is ironic that a system of checks and balances created to protect a Christian nation from takeover by an ungodly dictator ended up keeping the wicked in power. Of course, since then, many of the Senators and Representatives who opposed him have confessed that they did so out of cowardice: that they knew Bush to be right but they felt the need to show some deference to their loud-mouthed constituents. I suppose this accounts for the half-heartedness of their opposition, which used to frustrate me so but which I am now deeply grateful for, as it allowed the full blooming of the Government of the Righteous.

Yes, dear reader, I must confess that I was one of those loud mouths holding the nation back. It wasn't even enough for me to express my opinions through a blog or talk about it over soy-milk lattes. No, I felt that it was acceptable for me to force others to hear me. I joined marches that disrupted traffic and business. I even broke the laws, joining in barricades around government offices. I see now that this was a sin. Unlike the brave protesters who fought against the mass murder of infants, I violated a good, just order.

But the worst of my sins came after the Reign of the Righteous came into full power. My riotous activities became worse: I broke windows and otherwise damaged property. I am horrified now to think of the harm I did to the businesses that give us our great standard of living. I was, however, a coward. As I saw people around me being arrested and held in unknown places indefinitely, I fled the city and joined a small, secret encampment in a Roadless Area near Seattle. The ten of us moved nightly, trying to disguise our traces. We also continued in all manner of sexual immorality.

When we were finally caught, we were taken south to a reformation camp and separated. My hair-- then long and a source of vanity-- was shaved and my clothes exchanged for a long, sober dress by force. I would not cooperate. I refused to speak to my intake officer, so they learned my identity through facial recognition software. I was kept in isolation, in a cell with steady fluorescent light. I even refused to eat, as I had adopted a vegan diet and clung to it despite attempts to educate me about how God had given us dominion over animals. Still, the staff was gentle with me, reading to me from the Bible or various inspirational literature in shifts so that not a moment was left me to think on sinful things.

I do not how long it took, but they finally got through to me. The story of my salvation shall be the subject of my very special Easter entry.



This entry is part of the Blog Against Theocracy blogswarm.

My soul supervisor and district minister, Reverend Billy, has suggested that I take this Good Friday to reflect upon the sins I committed when citizens such as myself were allowed to live in an unredeemed state, before the election of the Government of the Righteous. There are many things of which I was guilty, enough I could well have been put to death to prevent me from infecting others, rather than sent to the camps with more minor offenders. The intake officer, however, was able to discern my neurological disorder and determine that I was a deceived child and not a truly wicked one-- a lost lamb, not a goat.

I hope that you will forgive me for the time spent on this preamble. It is shameful to speak of the things into which I allowed myself to be led. The worst, as I've been taught, are the sexual ones. These, too, have more impact on my now-redeemed life, as no righteous man will accept one so impure as I am. Indeed, this is fair, as the moral lives of small children should not be entrusted to one such as me. Nonetheless, I regret that I shall never earn the Quiverfull Order of Heroic Motherhood. I regret exploring the pleasures of other female bodies and the strange entanglements of non-monogamous relationships. My belief that I could love and be intimate with more than one person at a time was not only sinful but also reflected an immature understanding of love, as is to be expected of one who was not taught the Truth about God's plan for human relationships. Note for the younger people reading this: there were no prayers, let alone morality classes, when I was in school, years before the Reign of the Righteous.

It was that deficit in my education that allowed me to become misguided even in matters of belief. I knew that something was missing, but without proper guidance from the government, I could only explore on my own. As I am unqualified to do so, this led to the worship of false "gods". I performed and even wrote rituals and spells in the name of goddesses, referring to myself as a 'witch', which is a name we know means evil. (Don't take my word for it: look in the official USA Dictionary.) I even participated in rituals of Shintoism and Buddhism in Japan, writing "prayers" on wooden plaques with pictures of animals (demons) on the other side or in front of "gods" with extra arms or animal heads (deformities that indicate they are demonic, as I have now been educated to know).

Speaking of these sins still brings me feelings of deep shame. Even worse is the subject I shall cover in the next post: the time I lost between the election of the Government of the Righteous and my Conversion.

But do not despair, for my Easter post will allow us to celebrate redemption and life under the Reign of the Righteous together.


Note for the confused: this post is the first in a series for the Blog Against Theocracy blogswarm.

While I was grocery shopping today, I got a call telling me that a short story of mine has been accepted for publication in the Scribbulations anthology, Gratitude with Attitude. It was difficult to stop myself from dancing in the aisle.

Of course, this news didn't prevent me from having to lug my food for the week home on the subway.

I've had a short story accepted for the Grants Pass Anthology.