As a recently married man, I support Proposition 8: I don’t want the sanctity of marriage sullied by queers, pedophiles, robosexuals and Californians. I simply will not stand by and watch the solemn, noble, sacred covenant of marriage be taken anything less than completely seriously. I take it so seriously, in fact, that I’ve recently undergone the painstaking (and again, totally sacred) process of becoming an ordained minister. No, seriously: That’s for real. I’ve completed my ordainment, and can now legally officiate a marriage that will be recognized in all fifty states. As you might expect, it was a long and arduous task involving years of study, strict spiritual discipline, studious reflection on the nature of man, and hopping across a series of crumbling pillars without spilling a glass of water to retrieve the precious Ajanti Dagger.
“I haven’t felt this beautiful since I tore off that girl’s skin and danced around in it.”
“No need be formal. You call me just Reverend Monster.”
“Well I just can’t bear to break that kid’s heart. To hell with the law: Marriage approved!”
The Right Reverend RAWR RAWR RAWR Pees-On-Your-Foot. Probably Native American.
They’ll never forget their special day.
The entire ceremony will consist of the words “AAAH SHIT YOU’RE MARRIED OH SHIT OH SHIT!”