Some people have absolutely the wrong idea about what Jesus Christ is supposed to do for you.
To put it in a nutshell, if it walks on two legs and doesn’t lay eggs, it has sinned, and come short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23). Because of this, God can no more accept us into His heaven than we can accept cockroaches into our kitchens. So the plan is for His Son to come to earth, live among us without sinning, and then sacrifice his life to pay for our sins. We can then be looked upon by God as perfect, and worthy of His heaven.
But that’s not what some people think a relationship with Jesus is supposed to do to us. They think it’s supposed to make us act perfectly to the outside observer.
So let me tell you about a motley bunch of hypocrite hunters who invaded Club Eternal two days ago. Turns out I have a bit of history with the ringleader, who contributed to a blog named Rappy World, two years ago, back when it was a staunch bunch of manly men seeking to rid Our Internet of the most stomach-turning, filthy atrocities. They found me guilty of being a child molester (admitting such thoughts cross my mind, for their money, is as good as deed already done) with an evil talking fursuit. I was so hopeless to them that they urged me to commit cyber-suicide by removing all traces of my LiveJournal from Our Internet, lest all who read it puke up their guts and die.
Rappy World, incidentally, is back up and running, but is now focusing on ridiculing SL dwellers who have no fashion sense at all. One among this gang that came to Club Eternal to confront me was shirtless, and wore upon his head a large yellow sphere with a “have a nice day” happy face on it, topped with hair, and swim fins on his feet. If that’s not a fashion faux pas that should keep RW occupied for several posts, I don’t know what is.
So here I was, before six outrageously-dressed punks with the voices and demeanor of teenagers. The best thing I could do was say nothing. The very next thing I say or do could be tomorrow’s front page news for these freak hunters. They had now stumbled upon a whole nest of massively phony-as-a-$4-bill hypocrites just like me, and with enough in-your-face provoking would soon make us act imperfectly, and would have proof of our baldfacedly lying ways.
Savannahgrace Constantine banned them for 72 hours.
See what they did to us? Here’s your hands-down proof, people! Christianity hasn’t changed them at all! They will still bite your head off all the way down to your knees! They are still every bit as hateful as they were before! Their “religion” doesn’t work, people! Don’t be caught dead in the same area code as these full-of-themselves con artists!
Seriously. If what you’ve been led to believe about Christianity is that it’s supposed to turn people into docile milquetoasts who will never raise their voice at another, then you need not test today’s Christians for proof that this religion doesn’t work. You need look no further than Christ’s cleansing of the temple. Jesus took one look at how the moneychangers were cheating good people in more ways than I can enumerate, and got royally honked off! He dumped over their money tables, whipped them, and called them thieves! (Matt 21:13, Mark 11:17, Luke 19:46).
“Tolerance” be damned! I’m standing up for My Father and His house!
And when he drove out the moneychangers, something was proven wrong. Either my Lord was proven in the wrong, or the cockameme idea that God’s people never get angry. One of the two.

The actual performance
Something happened to me last night over which I am nothing short of thrilled.
First, a few notes. A beaver, in this piece, is a plumed hat, a mantle is a cape, and an envoi is the final, dedicatory stanza of a ballade poem. To make a long story short, Cyrano deBergerac is promising to make shishkabob out of the Viscount by the end of this very poem.
Before I went out to the Furnation Vista sandbox to install it, I wrote up a special notecard called the 80% Debrief. This is because I expect the 80% Rule to be in effect in such public sandboxes as Furnation Vista, which states that you will not get more than 80% finished with a building project before some passer-by will ask, “What doest thou?” I don’t want to stop and talk, so I wrote up the notecard to pass to them. Damned impersonal, like a form letter, but it does the job of informing them on what I’m doing.
There’s a lot to be seen in SL that just doesn’t make a lick of sense. My target will eventually be the