ABSTRACT
Two wrongs don’t make one right. I’ve got no sperm. She’s got ovaries. I’ve got ovaries. Two wrongs. Can’t make one right.
So, what’s the big news? Is it like a big revelation or something? No, not at all. It’s not like I’m about to climb that long ladder up to heaven and complain to the old long-bearded biblical daddy-god. First, because I might not find him before my time is up and I fall like a burned moth, my brain cells exploding from the lack of oxygen, and second, he’d kick me right back down. He’s got a whole battalion of saints to handle out-of-hand situations. Especially with former Catholics fallen into heathenism.
