Tweet
Well friends, we had quite a day in San Francisco today, what with The Society for Living on Our Knees staging their "March for Life," which, curiously, had nothing to do with banning abortion, and everything to do with banning guns.
Since the liberals had their little Cuck Parade, trying to demonize guns and gun owners, I feel I must break my silence, and tell you the very personal, embarrassing story of how a gun saved my life.
You all know I'm a former crystal meth addict, but what you don't know is that I was also once employed as one of Pastor Ezekiel Flint's houseboys.
I was 25 years old at the time, and very deeply into my crystal meth addiction, when I happened to find a job advertisement Pastor Zeke had placed on Craigslist.
Now, I was a no-good drug addict at the time, and had no interest in working for a living. But Pastor Zeke, being somewhat unfamiliar with technology, had accidentally placed his job ad in the "personals" section.
I had gotten in the habit of scanning those personals ads, looking for older gay men who might provide me with drugs in exchange for things I am too ashamed to describe.
Anyway, I responded to Zeke's ad, and this led to a series of auditions, during which his existing staff "put me through my paces," so to speak.
The median age of Zeke's manservants was 15, but I looked very young for my age, as I never got any sunlight, so I kind of fit right in. Zeke also appreciated having a houseboy who was fluent in English, which was more than you could say for the Laotians and Filipinos already on his payroll.
Anyway, this could have been a wonderful thing, but after less than a week on the job, while I was dusting Zeke's study, I happened to come across an old coffee mug he'd gotten in the habit of throwing his spare change into.
Greed and addiction took hold of me, I emptied the money (approximately $15.00 USD) into my pocket, and headed for the nearest "tweak shack," a place where one could purchase and use meth.
About an hour into my high, the door to the dope house was violently kicked in, and the intruder fired several thunderous warning shots into the wall above my head! This caused my dealer, and the other addicts, to scatter like cockroaches.
And wouldn't you know it, in walked Pastor Ezekiel Flint, with a 9mm semi-automatic pistol in his hand!
I began to stutter, trying to apologize for stealing the money, as Zeke placed the still-hot mouth of the gun against my temple.
"Do you think I'm going to shoot you, boy?" Zeke asked.
"Why would I shoot you," the pastor continued, "When I know all I have to do is leave you here, just the way I found you, and you'll be dead within a year?"
I broke down sobbing, and said I didn't want to die.
That was when Zeke took me out of that dark dirty place, loaded me into his white Cadillac Escalade, and drove me out to a secluded spot in the woods.
As Zeke marched me toward a cold, dark lake in a little clearing, he said, "I've got big plans for you, boy. And so does God."
There, he made me get down on my knees, and forced me at gunpoint to accept Jesus Christ as my personal savior.
This was followed by immediate baptism in the lake, and well, what can I say?
My life in Christ has been smooth sailing ever since.
So please don't ever let anybody convince you guns don't save lives.
Sometimes the only thing that can stop a bad guy with a meth pipe is a good guy with a gun, and Jesus in his heart.
Since the liberals had their little Cuck Parade, trying to demonize guns and gun owners, I feel I must break my silence, and tell you the very personal, embarrassing story of how a gun saved my life.
You all know I'm a former crystal meth addict, but what you don't know is that I was also once employed as one of Pastor Ezekiel Flint's houseboys.
I was 25 years old at the time, and very deeply into my crystal meth addiction, when I happened to find a job advertisement Pastor Zeke had placed on Craigslist.
Now, I was a no-good drug addict at the time, and had no interest in working for a living. But Pastor Zeke, being somewhat unfamiliar with technology, had accidentally placed his job ad in the "personals" section.
I had gotten in the habit of scanning those personals ads, looking for older gay men who might provide me with drugs in exchange for things I am too ashamed to describe.
Anyway, I responded to Zeke's ad, and this led to a series of auditions, during which his existing staff "put me through my paces," so to speak.
The median age of Zeke's manservants was 15, but I looked very young for my age, as I never got any sunlight, so I kind of fit right in. Zeke also appreciated having a houseboy who was fluent in English, which was more than you could say for the Laotians and Filipinos already on his payroll.
Anyway, this could have been a wonderful thing, but after less than a week on the job, while I was dusting Zeke's study, I happened to come across an old coffee mug he'd gotten in the habit of throwing his spare change into.
Greed and addiction took hold of me, I emptied the money (approximately $15.00 USD) into my pocket, and headed for the nearest "tweak shack," a place where one could purchase and use meth.
About an hour into my high, the door to the dope house was violently kicked in, and the intruder fired several thunderous warning shots into the wall above my head! This caused my dealer, and the other addicts, to scatter like cockroaches.
And wouldn't you know it, in walked Pastor Ezekiel Flint, with a 9mm semi-automatic pistol in his hand!
I began to stutter, trying to apologize for stealing the money, as Zeke placed the still-hot mouth of the gun against my temple.
"Do you think I'm going to shoot you, boy?" Zeke asked.
"Why would I shoot you," the pastor continued, "When I know all I have to do is leave you here, just the way I found you, and you'll be dead within a year?"
I broke down sobbing, and said I didn't want to die.
That was when Zeke took me out of that dark dirty place, loaded me into his white Cadillac Escalade, and drove me out to a secluded spot in the woods.
As Zeke marched me toward a cold, dark lake in a little clearing, he said, "I've got big plans for you, boy. And so does God."
There, he made me get down on my knees, and forced me at gunpoint to accept Jesus Christ as my personal savior.
This was followed by immediate baptism in the lake, and well, what can I say?
My life in Christ has been smooth sailing ever since.
So please don't ever let anybody convince you guns don't save lives.
Sometimes the only thing that can stop a bad guy with a meth pipe is a good guy with a gun, and Jesus in his heart.
Attached Files
Comment