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|Compare in the Men's Bible these two identical stories: Genesis 19:1-8 and Judges 19:15-25. They are the exact same story about visitors being threatened by marauding bands of homosexual rapists and being saved by the host sacrificing women to the rapacious mob. Lot is the host in Genesis. That story was, of course, revised in this version. I shall improve upon the Judges version as well.
It's like the redundant stories of the heroes parting waters (Moses, then Joshua). It's a cultural custom that will spawn the entire New Testament, as you shall see later. But on with our rendition of Judges 19:15-25:
A revolting, weasely, little, pious piece of shit of a man drove Imama, his wife away, by calling her a slut, so she went home to her mother's house. But then he got horny and came crawling back to her, and like all abusive fatherfuckers begged her forgiveness and for her to take him back.
|Imana, her mother didn't want Imama to be sweet talked into going back to him, so she kept stalling the sleazy, little husband to buy time for her to persuade her daughter to see through the slimy, little scumball, and succeeded at this for days. But as often happens in youth, as I have mentioned before, the daughter's hormones got the best of her, and she finally decided to go home with the grimy, little dirtbag, much to her mother's utter chagrin.
Because he was such a xenophobe, he refused to stay overnight in Jebus, which was then the non-Israelite town which would become Jerusalem in the future. He pushed on to Gibeah, where he was offered standard Mideastern hospitality by an old man. As they were making their hearts merry, according to Judges 19:22-24, certain "wicked" men of the city beset the house and said to the host, "Bring out the man who came into your house, that we may know him". Now, you know that the word "know" is a euphemism for fuck in biblespeak, right?
So, the old man said, "No, don't do this shameful thing to my guest (for I'll be humiliated as a host). Behold, here is my daughter, a virgin, and his concubine; I will bring them out for you, and you may humble them, and do with them what seems good to you; but to this man, you shall not do any shameful thing."
Slimeball boy, shaking in his boots, did nothing to protest the sacrifice of his wife or his host's daughter. He concurred enthusiastically with the Father of the Year's plan. Lanai, the old man's daughter, heard her father's plea, and said, "Why, that fatherfucking son of a prick!"
"I have an idea," said Imama. "Take these herbs and brew them into a tea. They contain a powerful sedative which will put your father and my worthless husband to sleep, and then we'll turn the tables on them." Lanai quickly prepared the brew and the women dutifully served it to the scheming men. Within minutes, they were unconscious. Imama and Lanai dragged the rat bastards one by one to the small window, heaved them up to the sill, and shoved them outside.
Lanai called out to the mob, "The master of the house has decided to honor your request and allow both himself and his guest to be your night's entertainment to do with as seems good to you." The mob outside siezed the host and his guest and raped and abused them all night long, which rather woke them up. The father realized he liked it and went off with the men when they were done fucking the weasely, little scumbag husband to death.
|In the morning, a pious Israelite found the little crapball's dead body and he didn't need an advanced degree in forensics to figure out what had happened to him. He sliced the little puke bucket's corpse into 12 pieces and sent one to each tribe of Israel. Naturally, testosterone being what it is, a war ensued.|
|Lanai and Imama were sitting at Lanai's kitchen table about a year later, discussing these events. Lanai had inherited all her father's property since he had gone off with his new boyfriends and could easily be pronounced dead by the Israelites to avoid embarrassment. Imama had returned to her husband's house, taken the things she wanted, sold the rest, and had returned to live with her mother, who never uttered an I-told-you-so, because she was just glad her daughter was home.|
|Lanai asked Imama if she thought she'd ever remarry. "I doubt it," Imama replied. "All the men are off getting themselves killed in the war. How they love their bloodsport."
"Yes, it's a terrible war." They both shook their heads sagely. "But it does thin the herd of rapists, doesn't it?" giggled Lanai.
"What about you, Lanai? Will you take a husband?" Imama asked.
"I love to work my land and till my fields. I am fulfilled in my work. I have my dogs for companionship, my oxen for help, and my crops for provision. What need have I of a husband to hound me and bark at me all my days? I want to be alone."
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