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  1. For a while when we were Baptist, I used to be afraid to go to Sunday school. The SS teacher used to tell us a story about a little girl named Rosa. In the story, some bad men with automatic machine guns burst into the church, ripped Jesus’ picture off the wall, lined everyone up and made them spit on the picture. So that they wouldn’t be shot, everyone did as told. When they got to little Rosa, she professed her love for Jesus, refused to spit on the picture, and was promptly pumped full of lead. As her blood spilled on the pic, her spirit floated off to heaven to be with Jesus. Any question as to why religion scares the living crap outta me?

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