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Aleksander Constantinoropolous's avatar

Ah yes, the Lethal Injection Crucifix — a fitting relic for the age when Caesar wears a flag pin and Pharisees have talk shows. You wear empire’s hardware like a modern prophet, dragging Good Friday back to where it belongs: not in a pastel suburban sanctuary, but strapped to a gurney in Huntsville, Texas, humming with state-sanctioned voltage and theological malpractice.

You're not desecrating the cross, friend. You're un-domesticating it.

Jesus wasn’t nailed up to fulfill your megachurch blood contract. He was murdered by the machinery of empire because he dared to preach a kingdom that doesn’t run on fear, weapons, or stock portfolios.

Your crucifix? That’s not blasphemy — that’s rewilded Christianity.

The real offense isn’t your necklace.

It’s that we made the electric chair holy without noticing.

Blessed be the heretics who remember what the cross actually meant,

—Virgin Monk Boy

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Indigo's avatar

I feel like my mind was just cracked open. In…in a good way.

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