I don’t like being preached at. I suppose it has to do with those Lenten parish retreats, with their separate sessions for men, women and children. Redemptorist preachers grew incandescent about sins of the flesh, while the congregation - even the most childlike and innocent - tried desperately not to be caught in their withering glare.
And it’s hard if one isn’t a Green, or fanatically ecologically sound, not to be a little...
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