Get your icky-hats on, because God’s back – and he’s wearing assless leather chaps! That’s right, dear reader (citation needed), it’s time for a very special episode of God Is the One True Freak!
As much as God wants you to pop yourself full of Viagra and butt-fuck your wife into a pillar of salt, he really-really-like-seriously-really wants you to throw down some BDSM shit on her ass.
But only if you’re top-level domain hetero.
And married.
And Christian.
Still there?
Women, as we all know, need constant guidance. Generally we as men hand the rigors of guidance over to the lords of fashion and pharmaceuticals, who overall have done a smartly spiffy job of reducing the ladyfolk to anorexic pill-poppers who are prone to suggestion. But, according to God, that’s still not enough. You see, spiritual growth only comes through whippings in the name of Christ.
And why not? Any excuse that a good Christian husband can find to beat his good Christian wife in the name of Jebus is A-OK with the lord, so what’s yer fuckin’ problem? Because submission, like any Lifetime original movie-worthy cycle of abuse, has to have both a beginning and an end point. See, you, the man, are required to submit to God. Just for, you know, shits and giggles. But, as you are made in God’s own image (fat, balding, and kind of a dick), you in turn must have someone or something submit to you. And while garage-door openers and propane barbecues are nice, they’re not terribly submissive – especially when they break down or blow up.
And that, my friends, is why God invented the two very bestest things EVAR: marriage, and BDSM. Like peanut butter and mayonnaise, they’re two great tastes that taste best together after a few bottles of discount-brand grigio.
Yes, of course God wants your Christian BDSM Marriage to be consensual (wink, wink).
But, as usual, God has a few caveats. Chief among these is his squickiness toward male submission. He’s kinda-sorta okay with it, but he’d really rather you didn’t do it. No God wants to see his Adam naked on all fours, with his man-junk trapped in a CB-2000 like blood sausage over-stuffed into a transparent shower cap with hard pleats. Those are the sorts of things that make Jesus cry.
And when Jesus cries, God sends Tim LaHaye to set us straight. And then Kirk Cameron stars in the movie. And some fuckface wants you to go see it with them. And then nobody wins.
And the cycle of abuse continues.
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