I'm Sorry,' He Says Simply. 'people Make

God Doesn't Like Lesbians," Grandma Huberman Hised, Throwing The Magazine In The Trash. Jennifer Knew What Lesbian Meant, And She Knew She Probably Was One. But She Couldn't Understand Why God Would Hold That Against Her Or Against Monica Mathers, Who'd Never Started A War Or Killed Anybody, And Whose Deadeye Three-pointers Were Straight-up Amazing. After All, Hadn't God Made Both Of Them? But People Were Like That, She'd Noticed. They'd Invoke Godly Privilege At The Weirdest Of Times And For The Most Stupid Reasons.

And Just As I Begin To Believe That All Is Well, There Is Some Subtle Change In The Light. The Room Takes Its True Shape. I Fight To Go Back To That Blissful Ignorance, But It Is Too Late. The Dull Pain Of Truth Weights My Soul, Pulling It Under. I Am Left Hopelessly Awake.

Just Because You're Funny Doesn't Mean You Get To Be Cruel.

I’m From The Health Department. You’ve Heard Of Typhoid Mary? This Fella’s Got Enough Typhoid To Start His Own Colony.

If God Has Nothing Better To Do Than Punish Schoolgirls For A Bit Of Tomfoolery, Then I've No Use For God.