Dear Mrs. Bowers

I must disagree with the philosophy that you espouse. The idea that people have to be attractive and clad in designer clothing to reach the Kingdom of God is ludicrous. A freshly-scrubbed countenance, combined with a moderate amount of make-up and a properly coordinated Liz Claiborne outfit should be more than sufficient. Why, Jesus himself apparently walked the earth clad in a ratty kaftan (according to Hollywood, anyway).

I'm not too enthused with your holier-than-thou attitude, either. I've only slept with a dozen or so different men (I'm in my late-twenties), had serious feelings for most of them, and have never taken it up the ass. I suppose that next, you'll be telling me that my occasional lesbian experimentations will somehow negatively affect my destination in the after-life.

In closing, let me say that I intend to be in Heaven, and if by some unusual circumstance, I find myself in the company of an intolerant, narcissistic bitch like yourself, I intend to let loose the nastiest, greasiest silent flatulent emission that you have ever encountered.

Sporting the finest tits money can buy,
Chlamydia Jackson-Bilderbeck

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