Podcasts about Religious intolerance

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 1 When Glen Zane Braxton is accidentally accepted into a fundamentalist women s college. In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels. Leading up to the first day of college. Every old trick was invented by someone once upon a time. A Little Background: Hi. My name is Glenn Zane Braxton but everyone calls me Zane. I'm a good-looking (or so I'm told) athletic kid just over six feet tall and just under two hundred pounds. I get my Nordic looks from my Mom who hails from Norway. I apparently get my optimistic attitude and loose moral structure from my Dad, though I was to learn that Mom was a bit freaky too. My parents were killed in a rock climbing accident when I was fifteen so I was sent to live with my Uncle Tim (Dad's younger brother) and Aunt Jill. Unfortunately for me, while my parents had been rich hedonists, Tim and Jill were fundamentalist Christians doing missionary work in northern Thailand. I spent the next two-and-a-half years in a place where a paved road was a luxury. I have nothing against Christianity; I consider myself a decent Christian but I believe my faith stops at the next person's 'I'm not interested'. My aunt and uncle were a very different breed. They believed that it was every Christian's duty to convert our little brown brothers and sisters (no shit, this is what Tim told me) whether they wanted it or not. Needless to say, I witnessed them busting their self-righteous heads against the faith and traditions of these ancient people they'd come to 'help enlighten,' while I learned all about Thai culture, cuisine, and kick-boxing. I learned that spending time with Thai women was a hell of a way to get another kind of education too. On the down side, Tim beat me whenever he found out about the women. To get back at him, I spent time with Buddhist monks - score one for the Zen! Three months ago there was an incredibly brutal monsoon and something possessed Tim to go down to the river to save people. Since every sane individual was running away from the river, I pleaded that we go with the people that actually knew what was going on. Instead, I ended up with my Aunt and Uncle hip deep in the muddy water when an uprooted tree hit Tim and Jill. Like a fool I jumped into the flood waters after them. I got to Jill - Tim was a goner. Afterwards, when I realized that no Tim meant a return to the States, I was not crying tears of joy - that would have been cruel. After they gave up the search for Tim, Jill and I returned to Western Civilization. Jill surprised me by actually having a college degree that was useful and she got a job in Virginia working as an insurance adjuster for a nice sized company. I had completed my high school credits online back in Thailand and passed my college entrance exam so I was looking forward to partying it up somewhere far away from Jill. Fate has a funny way of laughing at me, though. For some byzantine reason, Dad set up my trust fund so that I would get a fraction of my inheritance when I turned eighteen, as long as I was in an institution of higher learning approved of by Tim and Jill - now just Jill. Otherwise, I had to wait until I was twenty-one. I wanted to go to the University of Hawaii Jill found a nice little place close to what she called home, real close. Speaking of home; our living arrangements were courtesy of Tim's generous insurance policy and his own little share of Dad's family's money. She bought us an expansive two-story spread with nice large yards, front and back, right where the countryside hits the suburbs. I wished we had a pool and even offered to dip into my own funds to have one put in but since pools were 'cesspits of depravity' Jill nixed the notion. Getting a car was also an interesting discussion. Jill said 'no way' and wouldn't budge until we noticed that our neighbors were two nice looking ladies in their twenties (I guessed). On the day we moved in I went over to talk (I'm drawn to women like a comet to the Sun) and spent over an hour getting to know them. There were two big pluses about their place; one was the large pool in back, which the girls (there turned out to be more than two) promised I could use whenever I wanted, real nice of them. The other one was, When I got home I told Jill not to worry about the car; the cute lesbian couple offered to pick me up from school whenever I needed a ride. "Are they atheists?" Jill gasped. Apparently them being homosexuals wasn't enough? "Nah, they are Wiccans," I lied again with a smile. We went car shopping the next day. I figured I would tell Jill we lived next to a sorority house (to the other university in town) at some later date. What Not to Wear Moving in turned out to be half the battle for my life at the new house. Next came the clothing war. Personally, I think I look great naked and do wonderful with people of the female persuasion but in Virginia they arrest you for this. Since I only have a twenty percent chance of being taken in by a female police officer (or the five percent of the male officers who are out and-out homosexuals), I'm going to go to jail if I go around nude. My solution was to look around the local teenage hangouts, websites, and social networks to get me a style that would be both individualistic yet fit in. Aunt Jill was of the opinion that my school uniform (see below) would be my normal look. When I told her I'd use my own money to get what I wanted she threatened to throw them out because I was still living under her roof. I got pissed off and since my outlet options were pretty limited, I stupidly went to my room and did what every teenage boy should never do when their female guardian is at home - maybe I have malaria and the fever was clouding my thought processes. In Thailand I would simply go out into the jungle Jill never went out into the wilderness if she could help it. There was no jungle and Jill knew right where my room was, and since it was her house, she barged right in. Half way through giving me a piece of her mind Jill noticed me, the Vaseline, the box of Kleenex, and what my hand was pumping. I yanked the comforter on my bed, trying to cover myself, which resulted in my flipping off the bed (I was sitting on the comforter) and rolling to Jill's feet. Jill stood there with her mouth wide open, eyes glued to my cock. I stopped pumping but my rod wouldn't go down despite my shame, not of my erection but because I didn't like sexually taunting a recent widow. "That's, that's disgusting," she gasped while still fixated on my erection. I wiggled around so that I could pull up my underwear and slacks. Once my cock was under cover Jill started harping on me. "You vile pervert," she seethed. "What is the meaning of you showing your, thing to me? You are filthy. Wash your sheets then wash your hands then never do this again." "Um, Jill, Aunt Jill, I'm an eighteen-year-old male. I need to masturbate," I informed her. "Not in this house," she said shrilly. I grabbed the tissues and Vaseline, then headed for the door. "Where are you going?" she worried. "Into the woods out back," I answered as I tried to move past her. "I kind of need to finish this." "You will do no such thing," Jill gasped as she grabbed my arm, "you might be seen, and it's wrong." First priority for Jill was social appearances while my spiritual well-being was somewhat less important at that moment. "Jill," I cautioned her, "I really need to knock one out. I'm stressed." Jill grabbed the Vaseline and tissues from my hands, not because she was stronger but because in my own twisted way, I still acknowledged Jill as my authority figure; not much of one, but one nonetheless. Ripping them away from her wasn't an option so, "Jill, you are my only parent now. I need to come to you about, things sexual," I suggested. "No," Jill responded with some shock. "There will be no sex in this house. You will have sex when you are married and not before, ever. Even then, sex is only for procreation." "Jill, I'm not a virgin," I informed her. Her jaw dropped but I'm not sure if it was shock, horror, or something else. "You've had sex with a girl?" she whispered. "Aunt Jill, I had twenty girlfriends back at the mission," I related. "Did, Did Tim know? How did it happen? When did you do it?" she stammered. "Tim knew; that is why he kept beating my ass. "It happened simply enough; we would be bathing down at the river and if we liked what we'd seen and if things clicked, we'd go fool around. Sometimes we'd kiss and touch and sometimes we'd have sex; you know, blowjobs, cunnilingus, vaginal and anal sex," I continued. "Gack, ah, oh, God preserve me," Jill sputtered. "As for when, the best time was right after Bible study when you and Tim were preoccupied with the parents and us kids could sneak off to a house and fool around in the common room, and then couples would pair up and have sex in the bedrooms," I finished. "Oh, poor Tim," Jill moaned as she slumped against the door sill. "Can I have my stuff and go now?" I asked softly. "No," she snapped. We kind of stood there for a minute before she asked, "Were you sneaking peeks of me at the river?" "Umm," I half turned away, "yeah, I did." Jill looked offended. "You are very sexy, Jill," I attempted to mollify her. It didn't work. "You pervert, you freak, that's incest. It is against God's Laws!" she screamed at me. "Jill, we are not blood related, and I never said I actually wanted to sleep with you, only that you have a very nice body," I countered calmly. "Shut up! Stop talking," she shouted, before storming off, leaving me even more frustrated. An hour later Jill sent me out to get some pizza but when I got back she wasn't in the house, though her car was still in the garage. I smelled smoke and followed the scent out into the backyard. I saw what Jill was doing; she didn't need to tell me what she was up to but she did it anyway. "I think we need to put your misspent time in Thailand behind you," she announced, "so I've decided it is best to get rid of all the clothes, books, and statues you brought back." "You should have asked me," I stated. Of course, this meant War. "You are awash in sin, Zane," she answered in this twisted, loving tone. I turned and went in the house. What had that monk said to me when I'd discussed my relationship with Tim and Jill? One does not build a house of stone out of grass Which he suggested meant petty payback satisfies little and is soon gone, but real revenge comes from working permanent change on your opponent. Over the next four days I ordered a secure chest online, withdrew my bank limit each day, and started taking a pitcher of grape juice to my room at bedtime (it will make sense in a moment). I decided to start my plan Sunday night. Stage One: after Jill has gone to bed, fill her car up with gas and report all her credit cards and bank card stolen. We have plenty of food in the kitchen and Jill takes her lunch to work so with the car full of gas she won't immediately notice her cards are useless tomorrow. Also withdraw yet another five hundred dollars with my bank card, which is the daily limit. Stage Two: Once Jill has gone to work, I put three of her Sunday's Best into the steel chest, to which I have the only combination. Burn every piece of ultra-conservative matronly-wear, from underwear to bathrobes to jackets. Now that mid-morning has come, I head over to the Sorority House and enlist the aid of my two new friends, Leigh and Corrie. We go clothes shopping with the money I've saved up. Each 'sister' gets one thing (for services rendered) and the rest of the money we dump on getting Jill everything a sexually confident and active twenty-something would wear (Jill's only thirty) as well as getting me some normal clothes. I'm not going to attempt to make Jill dress like a hooker; that would never work. Jill's been warped by her narrow-minded environment for all of her three decades so making her more tolerant is going to take time. Stage Three: As we are heading to the bedrooms that evening I 'accidently' bump into Jill and soak her with a pitcher of grape juice she now knows I'm taking to my room on a regular basis. Grape juice doesn't come out and a pitcher will soak her down to her underwear and bra. "Sorry, Aunt Jill," I blathered. "Oh, Zane, this dress is totally ruined. I should make you pay to replace it," she sounded cross. "Consider it done," I offered. Technically, I'd already bought her a new one. Jill went into the bathroom muttering Leviticus before tossing me a roll of paper towels to clean up the spilled juice. "Zane?" Jill called from the bathroom with a hint of concern. "Yes?" I responded from the hallway. "Where is my bathrobe?" she inquired. "In the laundry," I lied. I hear her putter around for a few seconds, then, "Go to your room and shut the door," she ordered me. I got up and made a point of noisily shutting my door. Half a minute later the bathroom door squeaked open and I heard Jill pad quietly to her room and shut the door. I opened my door and sprinted to the bathroom. I retrieved her clothes from the hamper and tossed them in the sink, got the carefully secreted lighter fluid from underneath, doused them, and tossed in a lit match. At the same time as I'm doing this, I heard Jill slamming dresser drawers open and shut. "ZANE!" Boy, what have you done?" Jill shouted from her room. I raced out of the bathroom (on purpose) at the same time Jill burst out of her room so we were basically five feet apart when Jill remembered that she was naked; I was barefoot in pajama bottoms. Jill's look was priceless as she realized that the number of men who'd seen her totally naked since she hit puberty had just doubled. She spun around and bolted into her room, door slamming shut once more. It took her a few moments to form a plan. "Zane, go to your room and shut the door," she growled with a tad more control. "Sure thing." I grinned as I walked to my room, shut the door, and leaned against it waiting for what I knew would unfold next. Sure enough, Jill raced to the bathroom. "Zane, where is my dress?" "In the sink," I told her. Three, two, one. "ZANE! What have you done!" she screamed once more. "My bra, my underwear, my hose, she sobbed. "Jane, you have a robe in your closet. If you want, put it on and come to my room so we can talk this over," I suggested. I didn't hear anything for fifteen minutes as I waited on my bed. Finally, the door swung open slowly and Jill took a half step into my room. Her eyes were downcast in shame but her voice was full of hurt and anger. In her mind there was no possible reason for me to have done this. She was pulling off the Hurt Little Girl bit really well with her mid-thigh crimson satin robe and her wavy, deep-red hair flowing loosely over her shoulders and down her back. "I can't believe you picked this out for me to wear, Zane. Now where are my clothes?" she ground out. "Jill, you look good in that, really good, but I didn't pick it out for you. I had our next-door neighbors do that because you are all beautiful young women," I explained. "If you tell me what color you are wearing, I'll tell you where your clothes are." Jill stood stock still as she worked out that I was talking about her panties. "Blue, the deep blue ones, with the black, lace," she whispered. "Not the white?" I had to ask since I would have guessed this was the first pair of non-white panties she'd ever worn. Her constricted mind had expanded a tiny bit. "The white ones were nearly see-through," she answered after a second. I had to agree with that. "I put your clothes exactly where you put all the stuff I brought back from Thailand," I answered. It took a moment for that to sink in. Her burning green eyes popped up in shock. "What am I going to wear to work tomorrow?" she wailed. "I'll tell you if you agree to one request I have for you," I replied with compassion. "Fine," she hiccupped. She was so body conscious that she wasn't really thinking about the implications of what she was saying but I believed she would still honor her word. "I want you to wear your hair down all day tomorrow, or in a ponytail, but that's it," I ordered. Jill looked at me truly confused; she always wore it in a bun. "But why?" she questioned. "I don't understand." "Your hair is beautiful when it is down, Aunt Jill. I figure it wouldn't kill you to try a new look," I answered. Again, she didn't understand but I was okay with that, and getting her clothes out of the closet was part of the deal. I pulled out bag after bag and set them on the bed. Jill stepped up during the process and pulled various articles of clothing out, utterly flummoxed with what she was discovering. This wasn't slut-wear but it would definitely show more of her curves and skin than she would have ever normally considered. When I finished bringing bags out she looked past me, expecting more. "I can't wear any of this," she declared. "Please tell me you didn't really destroy my clothes." "Jill, I did burn up most of your clothes and you can wear what I bought you. You are thirty, not sixty-five. When I jumped into that river, God decided that I rescued you and not Tim, and I can't believe I saved you so you could go right back to the same life you had before," I interpreted what might have been true, God doesn't talk to me. "What did I do to deserve this, Zane?" she pleaded. "You burned up all my stuff from Thailand, Jill. And while you might think of this as revenge, it's not. You may not see it this way now but one day, I hope you will understand that I love you," I told her. "Zane, I don't understand. What you did was evil, despicable, and wicked and I won't tolerate it. We should pray to God, me for guidance and you for forgiveness," she pouted. She made to kneel down at my bedside so I followed out of long practice. We clasped our hands in prayer and while Jill closed her eyes, mine remained open. Now, my bed is not even at knee level so when Jill knelt down to pray, leaning forward until her elbows were on the mattress, she inadvertently thrust her ass backwards, yes, Jill was doggy style on my bed. I had abstractly known Jill was attractive but the thought of having sex with her had never come up. What was now 'coming up' was suddenly a problem, as were my attempts to keep up with exactly what Jill was asking God for, but the gist of it seemed to involve the Almighty taking steel wool to my corrupt soul, the harder and more painful the scrubbing, the better. "Amen," we said in unison as the thirty-seven minute ordeal came to an end and Jill stood up. "Jesus has told me that I only have to put up with your dementia until morning. I'd rather get new clothes instead of showing up to work, as some strumpet," she proclaimed. "Um, where did you come up with the word 'strumpet' and who ever said it was a sin to be good looking?" I asked. "Nothing I got for you suggests sexuality, no push-up bras, crop tops, or slit skirts. They're clothes, nothing more." "It doesn't matter what you think," Jill countered. "Whatever madness you thought you were accomplishing won't work. I really should call the pastor." "And tell him what, that I burned your clothes and bought you, normal clothes? Why don't we call everyone on the church roster?" I warned her. Jill balked at the prospect of having our family feud exposed. Jill sniffed, spun, and started to leave the room when she recalled the clothes I'd bought for her. She huffed and came back for them, looking at me very indignantly. When I went to help, she warned me off with a hateful glare. An hour later, as I began to despair over my actions, I heard Jill's bedroom door open and a crinkly crunch in the hall. Upon examination, I found one of the bags I'd purchased clothes in outside her door. Inside, folded up, were the other bags. Jill had put my clothes away in her drawers and closet. I counted that to be a small victory. At breakfast the next morning I endeavored to be very correct and polite as I complimented Jill on how nice she looked. She returned my platitudes with an angry glare and she left for work without saying a word. In her favor, when she learned her credit cards were toast she didn't break down and scream at me over the phone or miss work. That evening she did still slam the door to the garage loud enough to rattle windows on the other side of the house when she got home from work. "ZANE!" she screamed, "What did you do to my credit cards?" "Your replacements should be here by Saturday or Monday at the latest," I replied soothingly as she stormed up to me. "So," I went on, "did anyone compliment you on your looks today?" "What, I, that's not important," she muttered, then she changed tact. She came over to the sofa where I was reclining, knelt down, and took my hand. "Zane, you are falling into lust, degeneration, and degradation, sins of the flesh. You have to stop this." 'Stop what?' I wasn't precisely sure. "What you want me to do? Should we pray further on the matter? Last night I felt, something, but I still feel empty," I suggested. Jill's face lit up so I slipped past her and knelt beside her. Jill was unwittingly sexy as she sashayed forward on her knees to rest against the sofa. I reached out to her and she took my hand, then the praying began. What followed was a repetitive litany of me falling into lust and dark desires (clothes buying?). Dear departed Uncle Tim didn't even get an honorable mention which would have been surprising if he hadn't been such a total bastard to me. Jill's neglect I didn't quite understand. She'd always been loyal, dutiful, and supportive. It then occurred to me that I'd never seen him exert an ounce of human compassion toward Jill. I got up and ran to my bedroom, ending up on the bed. Jill padded along behind me after a minute. "Zane?" she wondered. "When is the last time you had sex with Uncle Tim?" I whispered so quietly that Jill struggled to understand me. "But, no, don't do this, Zane, don't fall into apostasy," Jill simpered. "I have a gift for you. It is something you want but I need you to answer the question," I offered. "What is the gift?" she asked, guardedly intrigued. "I can promise you no regrets," I countered. Jill weighed her options, turned, and left. "Dinner," Jill called to me an hour later. I dutifully went downstairs to the dining room to enjoy a mediocre meal in silence. We barely exchanged a single glance. As I got up to clean the table, cleaning was my chore, Jill spoke. "Seven years." I was pretty proud that I didn't fall over in shock. First off, in my teenage, hormone-addled mind, how could anyone go without sex for seven years? Next, how could someone with Jill as a wife not want to have sex at least once every seven hours? Finally, what was Tim doing in the lady-boy section of Bangkok when he found me that one time? I really feel like an idiot on occasion. "I saved your three favorite Sunday dresses," I rewarded her. Jill's eyes showed a glimmer of hope. "Which ones? I mean, how did you know which ones were my favorites?" she pondered. "You told me, Aunt Jill. I do listen to you, ya know," I responded. She gave me the oddest look, as if I had just explained to her how Ruth slew Goliath, not David. "Thank you," she whispered. The first battle of the Witch, the Brat, and the Wardrobe was over. The war would go on. The next time we went grocery shopping (Jill decided that the less time I was left alone, the slower I would plummet to my eventual fiery demise) I caught her noticing guys giving her the once over and she liked it, of that I'm sure. How do I know this? She let me talk to the cute stock girl for fifteen seconds before reeling me in, which was long enough for her to write her number on the palm of my hand. I called her and asked if she wanted to go to a sorority party when the semester began. She informed me she was a rising senior in high school so I gave her my number and told her to call me on her eighteenth birthday if she was still interested. You can't win them all, immediately. FFU             Birds are made beautiful by their plumage but divine by their flight        Now to the college I was attending; Freedom Fellowship University (yes, that is F-FU if you stutter) is the Christian college in my new hometown. Jill read about them in online chat rooms and by communicating with some of her Christian social network gal pals. She heard they had a dress code and without checking on the specifics, she bought me a dozen sets of black slacks and white shirts guaranteed to mark me as a social leper. She signed me up for my classes. I opted for Pre-Med; she insisted I should go Pre-Law until I revealed my secret sinful desire to work for the ACLU, at which point she relented. She wanted me to play some sports, I suspect because she wanted me to have a safe hormonal outlet that didn't involve me touching women. I could have told her that dressed as I was, getting women (short of kidnapping) would be nearly impossible. The problem was, they didn't offer any of the traditional sports except for soccer and track and field. I felt that was odd but I decided to sign up for soccer tryouts anyway. I also signed up for Karate, though I had no idea what a Christian school would be teaching that for, plus Archery (I've never used a bow before), Marksmanship (I've never fired a gun either), and Orienteering (because everyone gets lost in suburban Virginia and has to subsist on squirrel and road kill, right?). I downright refused to have anything to do with the Competitive Bible Study Team. By the end of the admissions process I was beginning to think this was a school for some kind of uber-religious survivalists. Still, they accepted me on short notice and except for a tiny quirk in the online admissions form, I was sadly ready to go to college. It would be that tiny quirk that would change my life forever. There Must Be a Church! Before I could attend college there was one quibble to deal with and that was which church Jill and I would attend. I claimed to be partial to the Unitarians, mainly to watch Jill's face go from normal to pale to an angry beet red. Sometimes razzing her is too easy. Jill chose the First Anointed Free-willed Fellowship of Christ after carefully weighing, considering, and then utterly disregarding my input. I guess I had to be happy they weren't snake handlers. On that first Sunday it was raining. I ended up having to run back into the house as Jill backed the car out of the garage and I took a header into a mud puddle in the lawn. Seeing how soaked I was, Jill allowed me to miss out on Sunday school. When I tried to get to the normal service my car wouldn't start (she'd insisted on buying me a used car, which I was now allowed to return for a new one). The second Sunday was a comedy of errors. The garage door opened halfway, then got stuck, and Jill gave the wrong address to the church family she desperately called to come pick us up. On the third Sunday I was sick, so sick that I missed the Sci-Fi movie classic of the week-(end) Saturday night, Vampire Zombie Overlords II. Jill normally lets me watch it because I told her it shows science in a bad light. I would like to point out that Jill isn't stupid but she does tend to believe that which is most convenient to her world view, in this case, Science = Bad. The fourth and final college-free Sunday, Buddy Jesus informed me that I had to go because no Act of God showed up to save me. It turned out that the First Anointed Free-willed Fellowship of Christ was huge, one of those mega-churches and by the number of luxury cars in the parking lot, not one populated by the unwashed masses. Everyone was very, very friendly to the point where I refused to drink or eat anything they tried to force on me, fearing that I would become a drugged-out zombie filled with unconditional love and happiness toward the world. The one other weird thing was that there didn't seem to be any kids my age in the congregation. I had no Sunday school that day. I later learned this was the weekend of their Pre-College/High School Youth Retreat. Apparently everyone in this place acted as a herd. Before we left I met with Pastor William Penny, chief shepherd of this flock, and he wanted to be my pal. Jill was enraptured with the guy but somehow he came across as creepy to me. Will, Jill, and a few well-meaning parishioners ended up steering me to the Pastor's office (which was as big as Jill's huge kitchen). There my new buddy wanted me to sign some paperwork. Jill urged me to hurry up and get it over with and promised to take me to a nice steak house we'd seen but never been in, as if I was a small child easily pleased. Maybe I should have gone for pre-law because I ignored Jill and did read what they wanted me to sign. They wanted me to tithe, and not on my income, of which I had none, but on my net worth. Everyone around me looked hopeful and I couldn't help but smile as I picked up the pen and started laughing. When they began looking confused I laughed harder, and that made them displeased. I didn't pick up the pen to write; I picked it up so I could stab the first one to rush me. "Listen up, Pastor Bill, can I call you Pastor Bill?" I didn't wait on his reply. "I don't know you or anyone but Aunt Jill in this room," I chuckled, "and I imagine you are all terribly nice folks, but it will be a cold day in Hell before I give millions of dollars to people I know nothing about." "We are doing God's work," Pastor Bill assured me, "and please call me Pastor William." "Please," Jill pleaded, "this is what your Uncle Tim would want." For Jill's sake I didn't laugh out loud once again. Tim gave me billions of mosquito bites, outdoor plumbing, and ass-whooping s on a regular basis so all I felt I owed good ol' Tim was putting a heavy stone on his grave so that he didn't rise up from the dead when the End Times came. In retrospect, Tim did me one favor; he taught me the ability to be verbally evasive when needed. "Aunt Jill, as Uncle Tim told me, being a Christian is a matter of Faith working through the mind and hands. It is my Christian duty to make sure that his legacy (really my Mom and Dad's) is placed where God wants it. Uncle Tim would make me pray deeply to the Almighty before taking such a momentous step, so pray I shall." Pastor Bill looked disappointed in me, which was a poor mask for his unsatisfied greed. Jill and the rest of the flock seem to have bought my act and that was the victory I needed to win right then. On the way back home Jill was pleased as punch. I'd expressed to her new friends what a wise saint good ol' Uncle Tim had been. This was the day I had to move into my dorm room on FFU's campus so I didn't have much time to dwell on everything that had happened. Barbie Lynn Masters, Dorm Mother To say that I was pretty depressed when I began moving into college would have been an understatement. I met some nice girls who were also moving into my dorm but I wasn't much in the mood for talking. I found my room but they had my name wrong. Not only was I not Zane they even got Glenn wrong; they misspelled it as Glenda. I hadn't been unpacking fifteen minutes before this hottie breezed in asking if I was Glenda's brother. "Sure," I joked, "I'm Zane." "Can I see some ID? I'm the Dorm Mother," she asked pleasantly. I showed her my driver's license which read 'G. Zane Braxton'. "And you are?" I inquired. "Barbie Lynn Masters. Do you live close by?" she prodded. I looked around my room (which I shared with an as-of-yet unseen roomie), shrugged, and replied, "Yes. I live about a mile and a half away, just inside city limits," I played along. Couldn't she see that it was my name on the luggage in my room and I'd already unpacked? "Can we count on seeing a lot more of you?" she purred, stepping up into my personal space. With her four-inch pumps, she was an inch taller than me, so I had to tilt my head up slightly to meet her gaze. "Unless you have a girlfriend, of course," she demurred. "I don't have a girlfriend but I'm looking for one," I grinned back. I wasn't really lying; I was looking for lots of girlfriends. "So, do you have a boyfriend?" "Oh, no," she assured me. "I took a Purity Pledge and I have a fianc so I can't be in a causal relationship with a boy, though being a 'friend' of a student I'm responsible for is fine." She licked her lips. My understanding of her convoluted reasoning was short-circuited by her D plus cleavage, perfect teeth, long light-golden hair, soft bedroom blue eyes, and blemish free, tanned skin. I've never considered myself terribly bashful. I hadn't been with a welcoming and available female in two months; she was right there in my face, so I grabbed Barbie's ass subtly, pulled her close, and began kissing her. At first Barbie seemed to be all talk and no action, but that lasted all of five seconds before she was all over me with our tongues intertwining and our hands going over each other's backs and asses. In a flash I had my hands up her pleated skirt, inside her plain white panties, and was massaging each muscular ass cheek separately and vigorously while my lips left hers and migrated to her neck and ear with kisses and bites, all of which seemed to really excite Barbie Lynn. She was moaning and grinding against me like a teenager coming down from a forty-eight hour unresolved porno binge. Her left hand slid around to the front of my jeans and touched my crotch where I was rapidly coming to the fullness of life. "Oh, God!" she whispered as she began stroking me up and down. "Tell me that's not a rolled up sock." "Huh? What? No, that is all me. Why do you ask?" I mumbled between licks and kisses. "Oh, some boys can be very dishonest," she sighed from past experience. "Does it hurt?" "No, it feels fine," I assured her. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt just a little bit?" she persisted as she groped my bulge. Something clued me in. "Actually, it does hurt a little bit," I guessed. Barbie Lynn broke our embrace, padded silently over to the door, took a quick look out, then shut it. She was back in my arms in record time. "In that case, let me see it," she grinned. "How does a blowjob jive with your Purity Pledge?" I stupidly wondered out loud. "Oh," she beamed an angelic radiance up at me as she slid down my body and unzipped my pants, our eyes locked together, "a blow job is sinful and done out of lust but relieving your pain is blessed and done out of love." "I feel myself getting closer to spiritual fulfillment every second I'm with you," I breathed huskily as she pulled down my pants and boxers, unleashing my manhood. Barbie tentatively, with a bit of fear showing, licked the tip of my cock. I let her get used to me before resting a hand on her head. She responded by slowly engulfing my cockhead, which felt freaking awesome after my long dry spell (please remember I had virtually non-stop sex for two and a half years). She bobbed slightly while pumping my shaft rapidly with one hand and tickling my balls with the other. I tried to push a little bit but Barbie gagged. I guessed she wasn't too skilled at this but hey, everyone starts somewhere. After five minutes she was taking more than half of my length in and doing so hungrily. "I hope you are not close to coming," she mumbled between mouthfuls. "Actually, I'm feeling greedy," I responded. She looked up at me, head still bobbing. "I can sense your pain and feel I should do something about it," I explained. Now she looked confused so I backed up, pulled Barbie up by her waist and kissed her once more. I gracefully walked my hand down her waist and hip to her crotch. With a sharp intake of breath by Barbie, she melted into me and bit my shoulder. Next I spun us around and pushed her back on the bed at the corner, splaying her out for me as her bosom bounced sensually and enticingly. "What's on your mind?" Barbie asked with wide eyes. "I want a taste," I grinned evilly, which only turned her on more. I fell between her outstretched knees. I made eye contact with her as she propped up on her elbows and my hands went to her panty waistband. I grinned, she blushed, and the panties came flying off. Barbie squeaked then slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle the noise. "Use my pillows to prop up your back," I directed Barbie Lynn since she clearly wanted to watch. I maneuvered Barbie into a suitable position so that I was kneeling on the floor with Barbie's silky smooth legs spread to either side. Barbie Lynn was propped up so that she could watch me work. I got the feeling she was used to some level of stimulation, just not from a guy. I could deal with that. "Maybe we shouldn't do this now, or go back to my place where it is safer?" she asked. "I'm too hungry for you right now; your scent is intoxicating," I finished up saying, and then I went in. I didn't rush things because every first time should be special. My right hand traced the line along the sides and rear of Barbie Lynn's thighs. My left hand traced the line over her pubic area to her stomach that finally ended with her left breast. "Hurry," she panted. I knew she had somewhere to be but I was aware she could use some stress relief too. Barbie reached down with a hand to control my left hand and head but I was obeying my instincts. By the time she made up her mind to stop me, I overwhelmed Barbie with a pleasurable, mind warping first orgasm. The noise brought a few students sneaking in to take a peak. Once I had a semblance of control over her, I began a series of actions to excite her whole body. On the second orgasm she wrapped her legs around my head and nearly crushed it. While I lapped up her juices, I decided to follow that up by kissing Barbie and giving her some of her own fluids to taste, a trick new to her. I kept my cock sheathed, though all three of Barbie's holes looked delightful. I figured she wasn't ready yet but I did manage to take off her shirt in the process and fondling and suckling at her magnificent breasts. After the third and fourth orgasms, Barbie passed out, and when she woke up, she whispered to me that she wanted my cock in her mouth and cunt. Purity Pledge? What Purity Pledge? Barbie Lynn confided in me that she'd sucked cock before and thought she was quite good at it, and that a few men had temped her cunt and ass with real penetration but all she had done so far was pleasure herself with toys and with the aid of other (female) students here at school. She was still technically a virgin (no boy parts had penetrated her cunt) but she'd done 'everything else.' Was she or was she not an anal virgin? My money was on virginity. Barbie was pleased that I was going to her church (it was highly popular at the college, she told me), almost as pleased as I was to find her so receptive and hungry for more sex. I told her she needed sexier underwear and that I would gladly go shopping with her for some in case she wanted to model any (yes, I know they don't let you model underwear). While we talked I helped her get dressed, though we couldn't find her panties. We slipped out after that, Barbie to tend to her girls and me to go to my Aunt's. I told her I'd see her tomorrow. Barbie laughed as if she didn't believe me. As I left, I began to appreciate the guy: girl ratio of this place because it was looking very good in my favor. My evening with Jill passed uneventfully; we stayed up late as Jill suddenly realized she was going to be alone for the first time in years so I didn't end up sneaking quietly into my dorm room until well past midnight. The Journey Begins. Day One, It's a What? My first day of college began with a six a.m. wake-up alarm in our room. Both my roommate and I sat up at the same time. We looked at each other and the sheets failed to conceal we apparently both slept shirtless. "Hi. You are a girl," I got off first. "And you are a guy," she replied indignantly. "What are you doing in my room? I mean, why did they give me a female roommate?" I countered. "Ah, are you joking?" she asked incredulously. Clearly I wasn't, and that realization made her grin mischievously. "Where is Glenda?" she inquired next. "Ugh," I sighed. "When I was registered their system misspelled my name. My first name is Glenn, thus the Glenda, but I go by Zane, my middle name. What about you?" "Whoops. I'm Rio Talon and this is going to be wicked," she giggled. "I have to admit I never thought I'd meet someone like you at FFU." "You don't see quite the hardcore fundamentalist/survivalist type either," I responded. "Ha!" she grunted. "You got me. It was either this or three years at a minimum security prison in Arizona," she confessed. She didn't volunteer what she would have done time for and it was really none of my business. "I need to shower," I changed the subject. "I'll go with you," Rio volunteered as she slipped out of bed, and yes, she was naked, and cleverly and artfully shaved with several delicate chevrons pointing down. She also had a black tattoo of the name Lilith going from the right hip along the bikini line, definitely not Church issue. I went to the closet, got a robe, towel, and bathroom kit. Rio brazenly watched me move around. "Body-conscious much?" she chuckled. "Rio, I spent the last two years bathing down at the river with two hundred of my closest neighbors. Trying to cover up gets old really fast," I grinned back at her. "Does my body disgust you?" "'Disgust' isn't the word I was going to use," Rio said as she licked her lips and also got ready for the bathroom. "Now, let's get you shaved before, the bathroom gets flooded with people. By the way," she tossed me Barbie's missing undies, "are these yours?" "Booty from my panty raid; please don't turn me in," I chuckled, as I caught them, then stashed them in my backpack, hopefully to return to Barbie Lynn later. Rio laughed again. As I suspected, not only did I get assigned a female roommate but I was on a female floor, which earned me more than a few shocked looks. Since Rio stuck close to me, she earned her own share of looks, but these were more scornful; Rio ate it up. I still couldn't decide whether I'd miss Rio or not when I got my new room assignment. The two girls in the showers ignored Rio and I when we came in so I was able to shave in peace and get under a steamy shower without the expected shrieks. Only when they dressed in their robes and put on their glasses did things change. Their looks were best expressed as 'a boy saw me naked!' followed by 'A boy saw me naked, ' and ended up with, 'A boy saw me naked and he liked what he saw.' I get hard when the wind blows, anywhere around the globe. They fled in a fit of giggles and I safely exited the bathroom before another girl entered. It was hardly unforeseen that my attire made Rio laugh but when she suggested black horn-rimmed glasses would really complete the nerd-look, I had to laugh too. I noted her regulation skirt appeared to be a bit higher above the knee than was prudent with a pronounced lack of underwear. Rio confessed that her parents tossed all her 'stripper' wear when they shipped her off and she wasn't going to wear the 'granny' panties they had put in place of her G-strings. The trek cross-campus to the Dining Hall would have been more enlightening if Rio had not lured me into an engrossing conversation. Remember now, I had been isolated from mainstream Western pop culture for over two years and had a lot of catching up to do. We grabbed some trays of breakfast; then, at Rio's insistence, we headed outside to eat pretty much by ourselves, or so we hoped. "Professor, inquired this cute brunette with pig tails, dimples, and into pushing her tits in my face; I barely noticed she was backed up by three other girls. "Huh?" I questioned. "Braxton," Rio spoke over me. "Could you tell me, where the, um, Clegger Science Building is, Professor Braxton?" She lied pathetically. My first thoughts were, 'why is she wearing such a thin white blouse two-sizes too small?' and wondering 'when is this thread holding that central button in place going to give up on its hopeless struggle and let her boobs pop out?' Then I became curious why she called me 'professor'. "It is right over there," I said, as I stood up, put my hand on the small of her back, and pointed the way with my other hand. The location of the building was blindingly obvious since this is not a huge campus. If things weren't awkward enough, Ms. Brunette twisted, rubbed her hardening nipples against my chest, and asked, "There?" "No," I corrected by whispering into her ear, causing her to wiggle against me. I took her forearm, lingering my touch on the pulse of her wrist before directing it to the proper angle. "I would walk you there," I added, "but we have to go to the auditorium soon." "Thank you, Professor Braxton." She wiggled a third time. "It is really a pity I don't have any of your classes. What do you teach?" "He's a Biblical Archeologist," Rio interrupted, "specializing in Early Christian Erotic Art and Rituals." I felt Ms. Brunette have a micro-orgasm over that piece of fantastical news. "Are you still taking on students?" Brunette panted to me. Rio jumped up. "Whoops! Look at the time!" exclaimed Rio, "Professor, you have to go, Right Now!" With that, she dragged me away from Ms. Brunette and her girl posse and across campus. "What the hell was that about and why did she call me Professor?" I hissed to Rio as we came to the auditorium for our first assembly. "Oh, it must be some Southern thing, sort of like the English calling men 'Governor'," she lied convincingly. How do I now know she lied? It will become obvious.   I took a seat with Rio amongst the sea of students and it was just my luck that we were surrounded by girls once more. I really wasn't in the mood to have them gawk at me so I slumped down and kept a low profile. The auditorium sounded full-up and there was a magnitude of teachers and such on the stage. When a stately, attractive, yet demanding and stern tall woman with long grey hair worked up in a bun stepped up to the podium, the hall grew silent. First she led us in prayer, which I found odd because normally at this level of fundamentalism, women couldn't lead men in prayer, but I could have cared less. She welcomed the rising seniors first, then worked down the list until she recognized the new class of freshmen, reminding them of their 'Handmaiden Duties,' whatever that was. I looked to Rio who was stifling to suppress some dark glee, undoubtedly at my expense. The Chancellor of FFU worked us through some of what I assumed was normal school crap plus a reminder to review with diligence their code of moral and ethical behaviors and the names of their spiritual guidance counselors in case they felt wickedness overcoming them. Considering the thin white blouses and the short, pleated plaid skirts, yours truly and the other men on campus were going to be scoring like mad, morals and ethics be damned. A closing prayer ended the meeting and we dispersed like good little sheep heading for our first class of the semester. Rio and I both had English Literature but in different rooms so she was kind/sadistic enough to drop me by my room before heading her own way. I walked in and took a middle seat. Once again all the girls looked at me funny when they came in and I couldn't miss the fact that in a classroom size of twenty, we had nineteen girls and only one guy, me. I was mulling this over (I'm actually a smart guy but I admit, I hadn't been showing it too much recently) when our teacher came in. Her name was Ms. Goodswell (no lie) and she was a gorgeous brunette with breasts of greater proportions than Barbie Lynn's, and the rest just got lusher. Ms.  Goodswell leaned against the front of her large wooden writing desk and used her tablet to scroll down the roll call. I was number three. "Braxton," her sugary sweet voice drawled out. "Glenda Braxton." I shifted in my seat. "Here," I said in a clear masculine voice, "but I go by Zane." Ms.  Goodswell looked up over her reading glasses, expecting something other than me. As she looked at me her eyes grew larger, and she looked, and she looked. "What are you wearing?" she asked crisply. "What my Aunt told me was proper school attire, Ms. Goodswell," I replied tentatively. "Proper attire is clearly outlined, white blouse and a pleated blue and gold tartan skirt with white knee sox and black shoes. Men wear pants; women wear skirts," she clarified. I imagine my jaw dropped open at that one. Finally, I stood up so she could get a good look at me. "I'm dressed correctly, then I'm a guy," I insisted. Ms. Goodswell had looked annoyed but now she looked pissed. She strode boldly toward me, heels clicking against the marble floor. "So you insist that you are a man, do you?" she snapped. Before I could do anything but nod she slapped a cupped hand against my crotch. I coughed in pain. I became aroused despite the mild discomfort because I was now gazing down into Ms. Goodswell's ample bosom. Her eyes went from angry to utter shock. "You are a man," she whispered in horror. "What are you doing in my class?" I reached into my book bag and got my schedule, letting her gaze on it. I noticed her hand stayed on my crotch. "Nine a.m., English Lit. 101 in room 204, Denning Hall V. Goodswell," I read out loud. Ms. Goodswell read it over while she massaged my growing shaft; subconsciously or not, I wasn't sure. "Very well," she said decisively. She turned back and returned to the roll. As I sat down I had that creepy feeling that everyone else was staring at me, or more precisely, my Goodswell-inspired hard on. After that little bit of drama the actual class was okay. Ms. Goodswell was pretty bright and made our upcoming journey into the works of a bunch of old dead British guys sound fun. When the bell rang we got up and started to file out but Ms. Goodswell motioned me to wait for the others to leave us alone. It didn't work out that way; the other girls hovered right outside the door. "Okay, Mr. Braxton, what are you trying to prove?" she accused me with some real heat. "Please, Ms. Goodswell, believe me; I haven't a clue what is going on here. I woke up with a girl in my room this morning, I began. "You had a girl in your room this morning? That didn't take you long," she said bitterly. "No, wait; it was my assigned roommate, Rio Talon, and she was on her side of the room. It is okay because they accidently stuck me on a girl's floor in the dorm because there were girls in the showers too," I continued. "Didn't you thing that was a bit odd?" she asked suspiciously. "Not really, ma'am. I've spent the last two years with missionaries in rural Thailand; I'm used to bathing with naked women all the time. Initially, I figured this was some sort of bureaucratic snafu but after doing my own quick census of your class, I think I've missed something crucial," I explained. "Mr. Braxton, Zane, this is an all-girls school; men are not allowed. We can't even employ a man under the age of forty-five," she informed me while studying my expression. While my cock would have done summersaults of joy, my brain was looking at my access to my trust fund going down the toilet. "I apologize. I'm pretty sure my Aunt Jill didn't know and I assure you, I was ignorant of this fact. What do we do now?" I sighed. "I believe you, Mr., .Zane. No one would use this as an excuse after going through all the trouble to sneak in here. For now, you continue to your classes and I'll inform your other instructors of this, extraordinary event. Expect to spend lunch with the Chancellor so that we can extricate you from this situation. Can I rely on you to be good in the interim?" "I'll do my best," I promised. She dismissed me and began using her phone. When I slipped out of the room, my classmates made room enough for me to make my way down the hall. "Zane!" a young female voice called out. I turned around to see Ms. Brunette. "Is it true you are a freshman here?" I was sure she would be pissed for the whole 'Professor' gag Rio had played and I'd unwittingly gone along with. "Yes," I confessed. She'd assumed I was a teacher because I was male and I hadn't corrected her. "Kiss me!" she beamed hungrily. That was not what I expected but I reacted quickly and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. Ms. Brunette looked upset. "You can do better than that," she commanded. Again, not what I expected; I put my book bag down, took hers off her shoulder and placed it next to mine. I started off with a repeat of the last kiss but instead of that being the ending point, I used it as a foundation to build upon. I slowly drew her in; she pulled her arms up between us and cupped my face as I dipped her with enough tongue action to make our steamy embrace a thermographic exploration of lust. We kissed for over a minute before I brought her up and let her go. "Better?" I murmured to her. Ms. Brunette nodded dreamily. As I retrieved my book bag from the floor I realized I was adrift in a sea of lonely young women. I could now empathize with that lost baby seal who found itself surrounded by a pod of killer whales. "Kiss me!" insisted a blonde. "No, me; I was here first." "I'm a senior; I go first," demanded a breathtaking black woman. I didn't know what was going on and I had no idea how to deal with this bizarre situation but all that was taken out of my hands by the next noise I heard. "Get off me, bitch," I heard Rio shout out, followed by a slap and her scream. Rio was hardly my friend, in fact, she had used me for her own personal amusement for the entire time I'd known her, but she was my roommate, an outsider, and I was sure no one else would come to her aid. I shouldered my way in the directions of her screams and sobs, parting the last few girls separating us. Rio was on her stomach on the floor with three girls gathered over her. Closest to me was one with thick, wavy black hair and dark skin who had her foot pushing down on Rio's ass. The second one, who appeared to be the leader, was a black girl with shiny black hair in an intricate weave and was bouncing on Rio's back, yanking her hair back painfully, and was taunting Rio, saying she was supposed to be a good little beast of burden as well as mocking her as a 'felon'. The last tormentor was the only one facing me, though she was preoccupied with holding Rio's arms forward so she couldn't reach back to scratch the ringleader. It wasn't hard for me to figure out what to do. When Weave started bouncing up, I swept the legs out from under the other wavy-haired girl, sending her toppling backwards. I then put a boot to the black girl's ass, propelling her into the spectators on the far side of us. I didn't even bother with girl number three. I grabbed Rio by the arm and yanked her up and swung her behind me. It turned out to be a good choice because when the black girl back-flipped up in one fluid move, she landed in a martial arts fighting stance. I had a fight on my hands, or would have if the bell hadn't rung. As it was, the black girl looked both outraged and shocked when she took in my gender and my counter-stance. A flood of girls suddenly separated us. Rio took the opportunity to grab her book bag, then my hand, and together we bolted to our next class which was, oddly enough, Biblical Archeology but without the procreation parts. Our professor, Mrs. Carradine, treated me a bit coldly but the attention directed my way by the student body was anything but. I had barely pulled out my book when the girl behind me tapped my shoulder and slipped me a note. You will take my book bag to lunch and eat lunch with me. Dove Foster I furrowed my brow and showed the note to Rio who was sitting next to me. She smiled and whispered, "Handmaiden's Duty," in a condescending tone. "Didn't you read your handbook?" Any further conversation was cut short by Mrs. Carradine's blistering glare. For some reason, Buddy Jesus kept me safe from anymore female attention until the class ended and I began to make my way out. I took some comfort that Rio stayed close to my side. My Social Secretary "Zane. Zane Braxton, do you mind if I call you Zane?" babbled a shorter, slender girl with shoulder length black hair and glasses as she grabbed my elbow in a death grip from behind. "You can't ask him to do anything until he steps out of class," Rio cautioned the newcomer. Now I had to decide whether or not I'd be a slave to Dove for an hour because technically she appeared to be in violation of the rules, which I knew no

Bill speaks with Simon Smart Simon is Executive Director of the Centre for Public Christianity about Religious intolerance seems to be on the rise in Australia. This episode explores the concerning trends of anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, and discrimination against Christians. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Jean Calas was found guilty of murder and sentenced to death by breaking on the wheel, but the case had been marred by inconsistencies and a lack of conclusive evidence that prompted Voltaire to argue Calas had been a victim of religious prejudice and a flawed judicial ...

"Savarkar was a great rationalist. The surprising thing is how such a rationalist went completely off the rails in regard to other matters. His writing is full of villains and among the villains are the Buddha, all Buddhists, whom he considered hereditary traitors, Ashoka, Akbar, Tipu Sultan, and then Gandhiji. On the question of Godse and Apte there was no doubt that they were his acolytes, they were his worshippers. Sardar Patel said the problem was that once you create an atmosphere then you don't have to tell anybody to go and assassinate; he reads your lips. You just have to see the publications Savarkar was patronizing... They were only penning hatred and it was all centered on one man -- Gandhiji. Savarkar felt that the Marathas were the real legatees of the Mughal empire and then the damn outsiders, the British, slyly took over. The same thing happens in his own life . He thinks he is the heir to Lokmanya Tilak and then this outsider Gujrati comes and takes the whole prize away. This great disappointment in his life gets centered on one man and becomes hatred. Today, Gandhiji is a great inconvenience because he embodies Hinduism, the collective memory of our people. If Savarkar's line is pursued, then India will become a dismembered nation like Pakistan; society will be riven by hate. This eternal search for purity always ends in that. The difference between Indic religions like Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism from Semitic religions is that ours is an inner-directed search. Everything - pilgrimages, idol worship, mantras etc. is to aid this inner search. When you marry it to the State, religion becomes an instrument of the State. You only have to look at the Jewish religion when Gaza is to be bombed - it just becomes an instrument. Secularism is a way of keeping the purity of religion. It's not anti-religion. Keep religion and the State separate. That is why my book ends with this appeal - Save Hinduism from Hindutva" - Arun Shourie, author, 'The New Icon; Savarkar and the Facts' talks to Manjula Narayan on the Books & Authors podcast.

Popular pastors Cliffe & Stuart Knechtle debate God with Logan Paul, discuss gay marriage & abortion rights, if Logan & Mike are going to Heaven or Hell, how God speaks to us daily, Logan’s 2017 Japan incident, if aliens are real, simulation theory & determinism, talking with murderers, science vs faith, if animals go to heaven & more…   SUBSCRIBE TO THE PODCAST ► https://www.youtube.com/impaulsive   Visit http://manscaped.com/Logan and use the discount code LOGAN at checkout   Watch Previous (Oliver Tree Makes Logan Paul WALK: “You’re on Steroids”) ► https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7p4mqdpjwWE&t=43s   ADD US ON: INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/impaulsiveshow/   Timestamps: 0:00 Welcome Cliffe & Stuart!

Arielle Del Turco is Director of the Center for Religious Liberty at the Family Research Council; and is author of the new report: Free to Believe? The Intensifying Intolerance Toward Christians in the West - 2024 Edition   In this exclusive Schilling Show Unleashed Podcast interview, Del Turco discusses the epidemic of hostility toward Christians in the West, intensifying bans on silent prayer, and general Western intolerance of Biblical points-of-view.

Join Fred Bodimer as he reports on a disturbing trend in the United States, with over 5,000 reported incidents of anti-Semitism and a relentless wave of anti-Muslim and anti-Palestinian hate. Delve into the details of the rise, the various types of incidents, and the challenges faced by law enforcement. Explore the need for a comprehensive community response to combat hate and foster understanding.

Enjoying Faith, Hope, & Charity.A Spring Break 14-part NovelBy FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.“Mr. Braxton, you are a boy who lied his way into an all-girls Christian college so trusting you doesn't seem to be the wise course of action,” she smugly informed me.“Is it because I have a penis or that this place is a super-nova of female sexual repression?” I asked next. The accompanying freshman pack mule gulped.“I'll see you in forty-five minutes,” Christina informed me as she sauntered off. I gave her vagabond a wink and she winked back.Before I got in the room I got a message from Iona; all my free time was booked through nine tonight. Since I was almost late to class there were only four chairs open for me: three in the back and one in the midst of them. I chose to be polite.My Biology professor was Dr. Burns who looked old enough to have been around during the Scopes Monkey Trial and his thinking was about as conservative. It wasn't cutting edge science. Hell, I could barely see the Scientific Method from our Ivory Tower of Religious Intolerance. The girl to my left kept raising the hemline of her skirt until I verified she was wearing pink French cut panties and that kept me awake through this scholastic nightmare.Christina was waiting for me when I came out, minus her servant (classes had just been let out so she hadn't snared one yet), but she'd gained three sidekicks who looked upon me with varying degrees of amusement and contempt. The shortest of them, a sexy brunette with a foxy-like face glared at me with ill-disguised hate, over what I had no idea.“Come on, Zane,” Christina said as she handed me her book bag, “time to face judgment.”“Face judgment?” I mused. “Are we really going there? I made an honest mistake and besides, isn't forgiveness of sins the prime Christian virtue?”Angry Girl grabbed my arm and yanked but the sad facts of physics and my contrariness kept her from moving me. The girl ground her teeth, on the cusp of rage.“Zane – come,” dictated Christina calmly. “Heaven, release him before he starts crying to the liberal media about physical abuse.” Heaven? Seriously, who names their daughter Heaven, I thought, then I remembered where I'm standing. I meekly went to Christina's side when Heaven released me, then we started making our way to the Administration Building.My phone went off and I checked the message and had to snicker. It was Iona and apparently the girls are starting to use my time as some sort of currency.“What was that all about?” another sidekick asked. This one was actually friendly. “I'm Chastity,” she identified herself.“Hey, Chastity,” I grinned back to her. “That was an enterprising freshman who is keeping track of which lady has requested my Handmaiden services, and now I'm apparently being swapped around.”“You are a whore,” snarled Angry Chick Heaven.“Listen,” I shot back, “this is your crazy tradition, not mine. I'm only doing what my upperclassmen are demanding of me. I'm acting like any other incoming freshman. But I have to admit…I haven't actually read the handbook yet.”“Let it be, Heaven,” advised Christina. “This will all be over in thirty minutes and he'll be gone.”On that note, I turned to the last unnamed senior. “So what's your name, if you would be so kind as to tell me?”“Faith,” she replied cautiously. I kept grinning.“I swear, if you ladies have a girl named Hope in your close circle of friend we should form an all-girls 80s-style punk rock band. I'll be the manager, constantly clashing with Christina over artistic differences,” I rambled on.“You are kind of a nut,” Chastity pointed out.“I'm on the verge of the shortest college career in history so I admit to being a bit nervous,” I confessed, and surprise of surprises, Chastity placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Somehow that made Heaven angrier with me, which I didn't think was possible.Before I could delve into the psychoses of Heaven, we arrived at the Chancellor's office. I gave Christina her bag as the girls abandoned me once the secretary ushered me in with a disdainful sniff of her nose.Inside were six women but I only recognized two: Chancellor Dr. Melrose Bass and Ms. Goodswell, who also happened to be my assigned Spiritual Advisor.“Come in and sit down, Mr. Braxton,” commanded Dr. Bass. Since the only open chair was directly in front of her desk and flanked by the other chairs (so I'd be doubly flanked), I took my seat.“As you must now understand, there has been a horrible error,” the Chancellor continued. “To rectify this situation you will withdraw from Freedom Fellowship University effective immediately. Your tuition will, of course, be refunded.” She slid some papers in front of me.“I take it everyone knows who I am, ma'am, but who am I in the room with?” I inquired.“Sign the papers,” insisted Dr. Bass.“Can I think about this?” I inquired.“No,” she answered.“Are you sure?” I persisted.“Yes,” she snapped angrily.“Okay, then, I'm not signing,” I decided.Everyone stirred restlessly.“You don't have a choice,” one of the unnamed women in the room declared. “Security will hand you over to the Sheriff's Department as we remove you if you don't leave sensibly.”“That sounds like a lawsuit,” I noted.“You are mistaken, Mr. Braxton,” the Chancellor glared. I noticed the unnamed woman farthest from me looked less than convinced; that made her the college's lawyer.“Chancellor, I have a deep respect for you and for the school you so expertly shepherd. I'm not out to embarrass this institution.” I tried to relate to all of them.“The problem for you is that at no time in the registration process was I ever asked if I was male,” I began my argument. “I entered my first name in as Glenn; your computer system transcribed that over to Glenda. At no time did I attempt to deceive the administration. I also can call forth witnesses from my dorm floor that will testify that I clearly didn't understand this was a woman's institution of higher learning.”“You are being highly disruptive to the school and you've already been in one fight in your first four hours of school,” another unnamed member announced.“Pardon me, but I don't know who you are,” I asked the woman.“Dana Gorman, Head of Security and Dean of Athletics,” she snipped.“Coach Dana, I was not aware that anyone was hurt and since I wasn't supplied my Handbook until yesterday afternoon when I went to my dorm room, I had no idea about the Handmaiden's Duty. I did find my roommate pinned to the ground with three girls sitting on her while she screamed and cried. I pushed/kicked them away and picked her up. I acted with charity and compassion,” I put my best spin on the case as possible.“Dr. Josephine Sergeant, Dean of Sciences,” the other unnamed woman introduced herself. “I'm not sure how I can fit you into my program, Mr. Braxton. The corpses Advanced Biology students work on are all female.”“Doctor, I would imagine if I do become a doctor, I will have to work on women from time to time,” I countered.“Mr. Braxton, nothing good can come of your intransience. Sign the papers, take the fall off, and find another school more fitting to your nature and gender,” the Chancellor spoke.“I'll fight,” I replied.We had a still moment, then Ms. Goodswell cleared her throat.“Zane, why do you want to stay?”“Short answer: this school has nine hundred women and one me; what's not to love? Long version: my inheritance is based on me being eighteen and in a college of my Aunt's choosing. It is too late for me to get into another program this year so if I don't fight, I go broke. I have nothing to lose.”“Ms. Lane,” the Chancellor addressed her lawyer, “is there any reason we can't escort Mr. Braxton to the gates right now?” The attractive young lawyer brushed a stray strand of her lovely light brown hair before responding.“There does seem to be a flaw in the administration software. There is no sexual differentiation key. Medical files were submitted as required and they clearly identify him as being male so there was no indication of evasion on his part – we missed it. FFU can expel him if he doesn't leave of his own accord but he definitely has a lawsuit against us.”That gave people food for thought. It took Ms. Goodswell to save the day and I didn't really expect that.“Mr. Braxton, do you promise us to be an exemplary student if we allow you to stay out the semester?”“Of course,” I promised.“Well, we can't keep him where he is,” insisted Dana, shocked and angry.“We can keep him in his residence hall but place him in the Solarium. We can fix up something for him by tonight, and we have him cleared to use the fifth floor showers as schedules allow,” Ms. Goodswell suggested.“The place is a mess,” Dana grumbled.“I'll work to make it better as time allows,” I volunteered.“Mr. Braxton, wait outside while we discuss this,” commanded the Chancellor.I took my cue and left quickly. Christina and clique were sitting patiently waiting for me. She stood and made to leave.“I was told to wait here,” I informed her, which brought the whole troop up short.“What are we waiting for?” Christina inquired.“Oh, I have them over a barrel so I insisted they assign one of you to be my bed warmer for the rest of the week. They are debating on which one of you gets the honor,” I teased.“You bastard,” spat Heaven, getting in my face. “You are a vomitus piece of filth!”“Just for that, you are next,” I grinned devilishly at her.“Huh?” she looked far angrier than uncertain, “Next for what?”“Oh, during the upcoming sex orgy I host, you are ‘Next'. See,” I sighed dramatically, “I'm not likely to remember your name so when I call out ‘Next,' I mean you.”I had a split second to decide whether I'd duck or not. Training was screaming at me to half-step back while bringing up an arm to block but…POW! I staggered back to the wall and slumped halfway down to the floor. Heaven kept coming and kicked me twice in the shin before Chastity and Christina pulled her off me.She was still sputtering and growling when the Chancellor's door opened up and Ms. Gorman stepped out and closed it behind her.“What is going on here?” she hissed.“There was a misunderstanding,” Christina answered.“Actually, Heaven punched me after I deflected one of her insults,” I countered. “Now I have to ponder civil litigation.”“What?” Christina asked cautiously. Heaven was less diplomatic or restrained.“You provoked me,” she accused me.“Do you know word one about my sexual habits? Could you prove a believable threat to you or someone around you? Baring that, you just committed assault,” I informed Heaven.“You are willing to gamble we would betray Heaven to someone like you?” Faith threatened.“No,” Dana answered for me. “I have little doubt that Mr. Braxton has noted that all classes and administration rooms have cameras.” She seemed bitter about her own security procedures. The rest of the girl posse seemed equally unhappy except for…“Come on,” Chastity told me as she offered me a hand up. I took it and quickly was upright once more so that we were chest to chest.“Please don't do this, Zane,” she said evenly. Heaven scoffed.“Very well, Chastity, because it was you who requested it, but I do ask for one thing in return,” I told her.“Of course he wants something,” Heaven snarled sarcastically.“Actually, all I want is five minutes with Heaven,” I explained, and when Heaven rolled her eyes and Chastity looked uncomfortable, I added, “no physical contact at all, only sitting down and talking.”“She'll do it,” Christina agreed.“No!” balked Heaven.“You'll do it or be expelled and face possible jail time,” Ms. Gorman stated.“No,” it was my turn to say. “I was joking; I won't press charges against Heaven.”“She can still be expelled,” Dana insisted.“For what?” I asked. Dana looked at me cautiously. “Hell, we were just fooling around; right ladies?” No one said anything because to speak was to court the sin of falsehoods.“Yes,” said Christina, taking the plunge; the others nodded.Dana bored me into place with her gaze, weighing her options.“Keep it down out here,” she snapped to the room, “especially you young ladies. I expected better from you four.” The implication was that my penis exempted me from mature behavior.“Thank you,” Chastity told me.“It took the grand total of one word – please,” I explained. “I know it must be hard to believe but I'm not a total scumbag.”“Are you still going to make me pay for insulting Rio?” Christina mocked.“The week isn't over yet,” I pointed out. The resulting silence was interesting.Five minutes later the door opened and the women filed past. The second to last one out was the lawyer, Ms. Lane.“Mr. Braxton, we will have to get together to discuss some of your unique legal issues and liabilities next week,” she informed me.“I await you at your leisure, Ms. Lane. Whatever you need, I'll do my best to comply,” I smiled.“It will certainly be easier if you are compliant,” she smiled back before turning and heading into the hallway, my eyes watching the line on her stockings going from where her skirt's hemline revealed her shapely thighs down her muscular calves to her four-inch heels.“Temptation comes in many forms,” Ms. Goodswell said, interrupting me from the distraction of Ms. Lane's luscious posterior, a look that Ms. Lane caught as she smiled and turned out of sight.“In my admittedly limited experience, temptation is a result of dissatisfaction with one's circumstances, not a weakness of character,” I offered as an explanation.“As your spiritual counselor, I feel it is my duty to keep you on the straight and narrow,” Ms. Goodswell sighed with faux sufferance.“I don't mean to make things hard for you, Ms. Goodswell,” I jibbed.“Enough sexual innuendo for the moment, Zane; you've been given an opportunity so don't blow it…don't disappoint me,” Ms. Goodswell warned me while stabbing me in the chest with a well-manicured cherry gloss fingernail. I gave her a funny look.“What is it, Mr. Braxton?” she asked.“Oh, it is the fact that you are attempting the impossible, restoring my faith in organized Christianity…” I answered while fishing for her name.“Virginia,” Ms. Goodswell filled in the void of my unsubtle inquiry. “You ARE going to be trouble,” she said, but her smile belied any worry on her part.“Well, I must get to lunch. I have a deserving Mistress who demands that I spoon-feed her,” I told her as I moved to Christina and her cohorts.“Your room, seven o'clock, Zane. We'll be moving you to your new lodgings then,” Virginia instructed. I nodded my acknowledgement then headed off to my late lunch.As we crossed campus, we remained relatively quiet until we approached the Dining Hall.“You remain intriguing, Mr. Braxton,” Christina allowed.“I am equally drawn to you, you sanctimonious twat,” I bantered back, and the girl posse jerked in response.“I hope they house you in a deep, dark hole,” snapped Heaven.“I hope they do too,” I beamed at Heaven, “and I hope you have the only key.”“Why is that?” asked Chastity.“I'd let him starve to death,” Heaven grinned viciously. I kept my eyes on Heaven.“Well, if Heaven had the key, she could come down and torture me whenever she wanted,” I explained, and when Heaven licked her lips in anticipation, I added, “and she'd look so fetching in nothing but thin strips of black leather, high heels, and a whip in her hand as she scourged the sin out of me again and again….” I licked my lips sensually at Heaven, “and again.”Now all movement stopped; even the normally homicidal Heaven was caught up in the imagery (which she liked) and the other girls were wrapping their minds around the implications of either me on my knees, Heaven in leather, or us together.“You have a very sinful mind,” accused Faith.“I have never denied that,” I responded. “I'm a flawed creature in need of redemption – I admit that. Thankfully, I've chosen a religion based on forgiveness and second chances, then, eh?”Any further comments were interrupted by a girl running into me – more like almost running over me.“Zane! They didn't transubstantiate you into communion wafers,” Rio squealed, showing more womanly affection than I would have given her credit for.Rio didn't do a great job of being ‘surprised' when she noticed the girls around me. Heaven glared at Rio and I tried to shift myself between them but Christina intervened before anything happened.“Felon, I am in need of a stool to sit on; I'm tired,” Christina said. As she used the word 'felon,' she smirked at me. Rio flinched too.“Wouldn't you rather have me lie on my back so you can sit on my face so I can get you off? That way we could both eat lunch,” Rio sneered back. Christina didn't bite.“Make a seat, little felon,” Christina smiled. I had a sudden desire to miss lunch.“I've got this, Zane,” Rio told me as she touched my upper arm and pushed me toward the door.As I grudgingly walked away, I saw Rio get down on all fours on the grass and Christina take her seat. The best thing I could say about the situation was that Queen Christina didn't bounce up and down.Before I could come up with some rescue strategy, Iona corralled me and led me to the Handmaiden Mistress of the moment; Dove.Dove's food had grown cold and Iona had kept assuring her I was on my way so I set to my latest exercise in humility. Dove expected me to sit with her. I brushed her shoulder-length auburn hair aside and fed her mouthful after mouthful, using a napkin to tantalize her lips after every few bites, which Dove found enticing and the surrounding tables found romantic. I was getting the feeling that the girls were looking at this whole Handmaiden thing differently than I was.At three o'clock I made it to Soccer tryouts, forgetting one little gigantic complication – this was Christina's team. She and the coach decided that since they couldn't outright deny me the chance for a place on the team, they could make me target practice (aka goalie). I blocked eleven shots from established members of the team (they have Soccer/Football in Thailand) but number twelve got past me – I was off the team.At four came Archery tryouts and I was starting to feel the weight of being the true outsider here, and it got worse when I saw our Team Captain was Chastity Adams, aka Chastity of Team Christina. I turned to put my equipment up when Chastity called me over.“What are you doing, Zane?”“I've just finished having Christina use me as a crash test dummy,” I admitted. “I figured I'd save us both some time so that you could concentrate your efforts on people who might actually have a chance to be on the team.”“Zane, why don't you think I'd give you a chance?” Chastity asked quietly.“Will you give me a chance?” I wondered.“Not if you quit right now,” she pointed out.So, I gave it a shot and I leaned that I sucked at archery, but clearly not as bad as most of the other girls so Chastity tapped me as a competitive alternate, which meant I was to carry equipment and practice a lot – the newbie.“Why did you do this, let me on the team?” I inquired after the team announcements.“You aren't half bad,” she explained, then smiled and pointed out, “plus you will distract the other all-female teams.”“Thanks for the chance, Chastity,” I said as I shook her hand.“You are good-looking and funny, Zane, and the other girls will work harder so they can stick around you,” she responded while looking at me intently. “Now go, you have another team to try out for.” Sometimes I needed to be reminded that there are things a twenty-one-year-old could teach an eighteen-year-old.I barely made it to Karate tryouts (Marksmanship and Orientation were on Tuesdays and Thursdays). I didn't recognize our Team Leader but our coach was Dana Gorman, Head of Security. She eyed me with suspicion but it was nothing compared to the looks I got from the Team Sub-captain. I thought I recognized the face but I definitely recognized her ass and the hair weave – I'd put a foot in it when I kicked her off Rio – yeah me!I told them I knew some kick-boxing but Dana was not impressed so I was placed with the beginners group, which I proceeded to dominate utterly. Ten minutes of that and the Team Captain Wilhelmina Spellman put me in the second tier, where I went undefeated in our little sparing matches yet again.Willie wanted to put me on the first team but the girl whose ass I'd kicked vocally opposed her on it. Willie relented but only partially. After class, the sub-captain would judge my performance and get the final say if I was first-team material. I figured if I ripped out her still-beating heart and showed it to her, I had a fifty-fifty chance of making the squad.We squared off after the last girl left – the sub-Captain didn't want any witnesses. She was more skilled and had more emotional investment but I'd actually been in some real fights and was faster and stronger. As far as matches went, it was pretty intense. We went back and forth with no real advantage until she threw me by grabbing and tearing off my gi.Before she could capitalize I got in a kick to her gut and when she unfolded, I head-butted her, causing her nose to bleed. I pulled up and she rubbed her nose and looked at the blood.“Oh, God, I'm sorry. Let me go get someone,” I urged.“You hurt me,” she muttered. “Lord Jesus Christ, you hurt me,” she said angrily as I stepped forward. I was so overwhelmed with human compassion I didn't see the kick coming.I was dreaming of running errands to a close village which was something I got away with from time to time. It was a pleasant day if a little cold for daytime in the Thai uplands. The young widow I spent some time with was attending me and I was clearly lying back and enjoying some of our intimate foreplay. Her mouth felt warm and comforting on my little helmet, her tongue didn't twirl like it normally did…but I wasn't in Thailand anymore either.My jaw hurt but that was far less relevant than the pressure of the body I was feeling on my thighs, the warm, wet sensation around my cock, and the feel of hands on my shaft and stomach. I propped myself up and looked down at my crotch were our sub-captain looked up at me while keeping her bobbing rhythm going.“Stop,” I ordered her. She reluctantly agreed, her eyes warring with anger, shame, and lust. I imagine she was wondering about what kind of academic hell I was about to bring down on her or if she could get away with crying rape as she pushed herself back and rested on her haunches.“Take off your clothes,” I ordered next. That command staggered her but my gaze fixed her in place.“What are you going to do to me?” she said with a shaky voice.“I'm going to reciprocate what you've been doing to me. You gave me a great lesson and I want to return the favor – now strip.” She thought about it a moment, then did a quick striptease which brought me to my knees.“What's your name?” I inquired as she finished.“Cappadocia Davis,” she murmured as she met me at knee level. I started kissing her, drifting into chest contact and letting our hands roam free for several minutes. Cappy had a very passive-aggressive style and often mirrored what I did, all the signals of a confident virgin.Getting us down head to crotch took little effort as Cappy went back to administering her blowjob and I started working over her own sexual center. She only asked me to hurry once when I was spending time getting to know her thighs with delicate kisses. Though it was a bit rough, Cappadocia worked me furiously with strong hands, plump lips, and a fighter's stamina. On my end, I did all I could. I mapped out the pleasure lines along her thighs, across the groin, and farther along the stomach and sides, passing the breasts to the throat, ears and lips. Cappadocia expected a quick fuck and an equally quick departure. As it was, we missed dinner and I would almost be late for my room meeting.Before then, I explored Cappy fully. I kissed every ebony inch of her, from kneecap to navel; I took gentle tongue strokes to her lips, vagina, and especially the clit while not forgetting a little tantalization of her ass which drove her over the top to an orgasm by itself. Cappy was good enough to take my seed not once, but twice, though the first time she took most of it on her face.I sat there with two fingers stretching her lips apart while my tongue languidly worked on her labia and clitoris. I tickled the clit, sucking it with my lips, then blowing on it coolly. She learned how to swirl with her tongue once my cock was inside her mouth for a stronger sensation. Cappadocia liked a contest and we had the best of kinds; neither side won and a rematch was in order – definitely.“Cappadocia,” I began as I was getting my outdoor clothes on, “I don't think I'm ready for first team yet.”“Neither do I,” she responded after a few moments of thought.“I'd like to keep training for it, though. I'm not going to give up trying, no matter how many private sessions it takes.”“I have to agree, Zane. You are not yet ready and it is going to take a whole lot of private lessons to get you into 'first team' shape,” she nodded. I left with a sore jaw but thinking good thoughts. I'd made two teams and had a shot at two others, as long as no one shot me or sent me to get lost in the wilds with a false map.The Solarium (Why am I Living in a Glass House?)I raced across campus to my dorm only to discover a sad looking girl in a short terry cloth robe sitting on the outside steps with a half-full trash bag. She perked up when she saw me.“Zane,” she hailed me, “I want you to take out my trash.” Okay, that seemed kind of lame to me because the dumpster was thirty feet away so I had to think quickly.“Umm…” I looked her over.“Jolene,” she provided.“Jolene, this doesn't seem quite fair,” I pointed out, and I watched her deflate before me. “See,” I said as I took her bag of trash and headed for the dumpster, her tagging along, “maybe I should come by your place tonight around nine thirty and clean up your room for you. Does that sound like a more appropriate Handmaiden's duty?” The little lights went off in her eyes.“Yes,” she bobbed her head. “Yes, it sounds…amazing.” Without telling me her room number, she skipped off through the doors and went off to do God knows what. I went looking for Iona who, as I guessed, hooked me up with the girl's location. Gliding into my room after that was less satisfying.“You are late, Mr. Braxton,” Ms. Goodswell informed me.“Handmaiden's Duty,” I countered.“We've moved all your furniture to the Solarium on the top floor,” Dana rumbled. Solarium – top floor. Wasn't I on the top floor already? What was I getting into? That wasn't the most important thing at the moment, though.Rio sat on her bed, knees up, hugging a pillow and looking decidedly unhappy at the world. I turned to the two teachers and asked them for a minute with my old roomie. Dana grumbled but Virginia made her give us the space.“What's up, Rio?” I asked as I sat down at the foot of the bed. I knew what was wrong; I was abandoning her and I was not the first guy to do so. The only problem was, I wasn't those other guys.“Nothing's up, asshole,” she shot back. “I'm looking forward to not having you snore all night long. Plus, I'll be able to shower whenever I want,” she sniffled.“Oh, well, dealing with you has been a total pain in my ass too, Rio. It will be a relief to not have to wake up looking at you, your tattoos and all those body piercings,” I stated evenly.“Hey, I don't have any piercings anymore,” she pouted, hurt by the comment and its accuracy.“Well, I don't believe you, Rio. Sometime you will have to come up to the Solarium and show me just how wrong I am. I'll leave out a sleeping bag in case your city-bred ass gets lost and you can't figure out how to get back down after dark,” I joked.“Zane, if they find you sleeping with a girl, you'll get expelled,” Rio whispered.“Thank God you are not a girl, then, ya freak,” I grinned so she hit me with her pillow. Rio was sneering at me playfully as I left; we were still friends.Outside my room, I'd picked up an old friend, Barbie Lynn Masters, and with Virginia, Dana, and Iona, we trekked to the fifth floor, then up to the roof.Now, when they were designing this kind of dorm in the 1970s, the architect was on a 'Retro Victorian' kick. He envisioned a safe green haven for the girls to go to where they would be free to partake of nature's bounty without risking pesky urban menaces like rapists, thieves, and murderers.The Christian Elders liked the design so much, they transplanted it to the Virginia countryside. Of course, there aren't a lot of muggers in rural areas so the roof escapes weren't totally necessary or welcome by the student body and when the school built its twelve-foot-tall brick wall with security cameras around the entire facility, the need evaporated. Soon, all the Solariums were abandoned, the plants died, and not all the window panes were replaced.It was a pretty freaking miserable place at first glance and there was some suspicion that this was an indirect way to drive me out. But they clearly had avoided the Developing World and my long experience in it when thinking this through. I loved it. I had roughly eighty percent of the dorm building's floor space to play with. It would be a lot of work to fix it but I had been accidentally supplied with a ready and willing work force.Thank you, freshmen and Handmaiden's Duty, because amongst its other virtues, the Solarium was my room, and a freshman in a dorm room was immune to being summoned for Handmaiden Duty while in any such room unless required by a duty to go there. All I had to do was have Iona get the word out to our fellow freshman that my room was sanctuary and I was set.All that was tomorrow; tonight, I had a cold room with squirrels, maybe a raccoon or two, birds, spiders, roaches, and an assortment of other pests, plus my bed, dresser, and a wardrobe from the drama department. I had also secured the choice time of five forty-five to six as my bathroom time in the morning, and ten to ten-fifteen in the evening. How I would actually piss during the day was swept under the rug. Ms. Goodswell suggested I get a hall pass during class periods for safety's sake. College…hall pass…Did they think I should make up for missing high school?It was lights out in my domicile. The moon was waning and the sky was clear when I heard someone working the lock to my door at the bottom of the stairs. Five people had keys: I was one, Dana Gorman was another, Virginia Goodswell, and Chancellor Bass were two others, but none of them, I suspected. I spotted the faint moonlight playing across golden locks as my intruder drew close.“Hey,” Barbie Lynn whispered as she came to a stop by my bed. “I thought you might get cold so I brought you a quilt from storage.”“You are a life-saver, Barbie; I'm freezing in here. Why don't you put the quilt over me and climb in so it will warm up here faster and we can both get to sleep sooner,” I responded softly. It was a weak lie but it was really all Barbie needed; it was late summer in Virginia, after all.She spread out the quilt and started to get in.“Wait, you'll get your skirt wrinkled,” I cautioned her before she sat down. She nodded and stripped out of it, then completed the process by stripping off her shirt (no bra), socks, and shoes. As she snuggled up against me, she realized I was naked.“Oh, that doesn't seem fair,” Barbie giggled, so she wiggled around under the covers and tossed out her undies. “That's better.” I pulled her into my arms and I caught her stealing glances up at me as she pressed her hands against my chest.“We have all night,” I assured her, and that earned me a kiss. “Oh, and I have your missing panties in my book bag, courtesy of Rio.”I returned her kiss and soon we were wrapped around one another, engrossed in one another's erogenous zones (ear lobes, nipples, lips, and throats) as well as tempting fate with a little penal/vaginal contact.After she wrestled me against the headboard and took my member deep into her mouth we had a little session of 'try doing this and watch him squirm' until I finally lost control and erupted several times into her mouth.“Mmm…” Barbie Lynn murmured as she rolled some semen over her tongue, eyes lighting up as I smiled at her talent. “Jesus bless me, you taste nearly as good as you look. I want more!”“Next time we can swap cum,” I suggested to her. Barbie wrinkled her nose.“Doesn't that make you a homo?” she questioned. I forgave her ignorance due to cuteness.“You've tasted your juices on my lips but you are not a lesbian,” I pointed out. After a moment she nodded so I continued with, “all I want to do is taste it on your tongue, not someone else's on my tongue.” Telling her I'd given more than one blowjob didn't appear to be helpful at this time; I'm decidedly not heterosexual.“Oh…you're pretty smart for someone so young,” she smiled seductively. I cupped her face in one hand.“I may be young and smart, but you are far more beautiful – breathtakingly beautiful – than me and one heck of a teacher because you keep me wanting to learn more,” I heartily complimented her.I must have struck a chord because Barbie Lynn glowed from the inside out and virtually poured like tanned molten gold into my lap.“Fuck me,” she begged with sensual need.“What about your Pledge?” I questioned.“Fuck my ass,” she moaned, “it's not really cheating.” Yeah, right.“Okay, Barbie Lynn, but teaching you to like it isn't easy. I'm going to have to break you in all night long,” I warned her, but all I got was a violent trembling of anticipation which caused her to make my lap damp and my cock rebound to duty.We kissed deeply and with longing for over a minute, Barbie rocking in my lap, her labia brushing my cockhead.“Is it going to hurt?” she panted into my lips.“Yes. The first time you are going to scream, but I promise you I'll show you how good it can be,” I assured her. She gulped in fear but smiled with wanton lust in her eyes.I played with her pussy and my cock, doing tiny penetrations until Barbie lost it in a screaming, ear-splitting orgasm, “God loves me, God loves me, God Loves ME!!!!” She followed that up by collapsing against me and burying my face in her ample bosom. I couldn't help myself; I took an overly sensitive nipple into my lips.To Be Continued.By FinalStand for Literotica

The Canadian Human Rights. Commission says Christmas is a form of religious intolerance. On a related note, Santa may be rerouting his Christmas Eve flight plans. Sen. Marsha Blackburn and State Rep. Ryan Chamberlin join the conversation!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

We journey back in time into the most horrifying chapters of American history,  into the heart of Salem, a town paralyzed by fear and paranoia, as we unravel the harrowing tale of the Salem Witch Trials. We walk through the cobwebbed corridors of history as we trace the footsteps of Elizabeth Parris and Abigail Williams, whose chilling accusations set off a wave of terror. We dive into the winding paths of Salem's past, introducing the key figures who stoked the flames of mass hysteria. Exploring the stories of those accused, the unfounded charges they faced, and the unjust trials that sealed their fates. If you've enjoyed this episode, consider sharing it with a friend or leaving a review and share your feedback and suggestions. Your reviews not only help me improve, but they also play a vital role in reaching more curious minds like yours.---Follow me on Twitter and keep the conversation alive. @Phantom_FileThanks for Listening!

How do or should we tolerate things we don't like, the things of the Bible that are said to be wrong? How do you address societal issues that clash with your beliefs as a Christian? www.famecbrownsmills.com

Let's talk about the Word and how Heaven has created an identity crisis for this societal issue of how one identifies. www.famecbrownsmills.com

Historian Ben Baumann talks about the history of religious persecution throughout history, as well as in the world today. If you like the podcast, leave a review at: podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/root…ty/id1466338710 Follow Roots of Reality on Social Media: Facebook- www.facebook.com/Roots-of-Reality…=admin_todo_tour Twitter- twitter.com/_RootsofReality Instagram- www.instagram.com/rootsofreality/?hl=en YouTube-www.youtube.com/channel/UCvmG6sKF…able_polymer=true For sources and further reading visit- rootsofreality.com/sources/

This week on NL Hafta, Newslaundry's Abhinandan Sekhri, Manisha Pande, Raman Kirpal, Mehraj D Lone, and Anand Vardhan are joined by author Hilal Ahmed. They discuss rising religious intolerance and visible polarisation in India. “India is a highly diverse country to lead to such a situation,” says Hilal, responding to Abhinandan's question about whether the country was hurtling towards genocide. RecommendationsHilalNacohusIslam and Controversy: The Politics of Free Speech After Rushdie Main Azaad HoonManishaThe history of the politics of blasphemy in the Indian subcontinentBhadas4Media: Hindi media watchdog that thrives on guts and gossipMehrajDo we need a new theory of evolution?AnandStates, freebies and the costs of fiscal profligacyFact-Checking the Fact-CheckersRamanInside the Alt News office after Mohammed Zubair's arrestFunding to 'non-cooperation': One-sided reportage on Zubair, with help from anonymous sourcesZubair insulted ‘respected religious leader' Bajrang Muni's followers: UP police argue in Supreme CourtAbhinandanWhy Supreme Court's Nupur Sharma remarks are dangerousSocial Media Outbursts On Judges – Impact On Dispensation Of JusticeName's Bond, EM Bond: Like Roger Moore's spy roles, emerging markets deserve a fresh review. They are set for another solid run See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Does The Bible Teach Religious Intolerance - How (Not) To Read The Bible Part 7 - Theology LIVE by South Valley Community Church

Joy St. John, Dean of Admission & Financial Aid at Wellesley College, joins Ken for a conversation that could also have been featured on Guy Raz's "How I Built This" when she describes how she and her colleagues essentially built an admission office from scratch. Get out whatever you write your notes with, because Joy drops great advice all through the episode.Rapid DescentWalkout song:  Just Fine , Mary J. BligeBest recent read: The Whiteness of Wealth: How the Tax System Impoverishes Black Americans--and How We Can Fix It by Dorothy BrownEager to read next: Caste: A Brief History of Racism, Sexism, Classism, Ageism, Homophobia, Religious Intolerance, Xenophobia and Reasons for Hope by Isabel WilkersonPodcast: Renegades Barack Obama & Bruce SpringsteenFavorite thing to make in the kitchen: any kind of cake What she uses to take and keep notes: EvernoteMemorable bit of advice: From Tom Parker at Amherst who was the first to tell her "I think you can do this job." Bucket list: Go to Trinidad.Theme music arranged by Ryan Anselment.

Many countries today are subject to media censorship and religious intolerance.Hope amid hatred has a vital role to play in these areas.To learn more about this exciting topic, tune in to ‘Chasing Hope' with Katherine Abraham and Michael Kugelman, deputy director for the Asia Program at the Wilson Center in the USA.

In this episode, Rev Karla takes us on a trip through the history of how the dangerous intersection of religion and politics has continuously harmed our fair democracy, up to the point of the events on January 6, 2021. We’ve seen these injustices since the AIDS Crisis and the Reagan Administration and Jim Crow Laws and more. What do we do now? How do we hold those in power, those around us, and ourselves accountable? The end of White Christian America is coming and as America continues to become less religious and we continue to elect people that represent our diverse population, what change can we expect, and fight for, in the coming years?You can read more on this topic from Rev Karla in her blog post and the 6 part TikTok series on Radical Christianity. Rev Karla also recommends that you listen to the NPR Podcast White Lies, watch the Netflix series The Family, and read Religious Intolerance in America. 

As 2020 finally ends, it feels appropriate to look back on what we've learned and ultimately celebrate what God has done, even in the midst of one of the most difficult years ever collectively experienced.In this special bonus episode of Gospelbound, host Collin Hansen is joined by TGC colleague Melissa Kruger, who co-hosts the Let's Talk podcast. They discuss big trends and stories from 2020, share their hopes for 2021, and reflect on God's faithfulness displayed through TGC and many other areas of life.Books, articles, and other resources referenced in this episode:"Why Is It So Hard to Read My Bible These Days?" by Megan Hill (article)"George Floyd and Me" by Shai Linne (article)The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel WilkersonCaste: A Brief History of Racism, Sexism, Classism, Ageism, Homophobia, Religious Intolerance, Xenophobia, and Reasons for Hope by Isabel WilkersonWhite Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngeloThe Color of Compromise by Jemar TisbyHow to Fight Racism: Courageous Christianity and the Journey Toward Racial Justice by Jemar TisbyStamped from the Beginning by Ibram X. KendiMother to Son: Letters to a Black Boy on Identity and Hope by Jasmine HolmesGay Girl, Good God by Jackie Hill PerryKnowing God by J. I. PackerEvangelism and the Sovereignty of God by J. I. PackerThe Pilgrim's Progress by John BunyanThrough the Gates of Splendor by Elisabeth ElliotWherever You Go, I Want You to Know by Melissa KrugerGrowing Together: Taking Mentoring beyond Small Talk and Prayer Requests by Melissa KrugerGospelbound: Living with Resolute Hope in an Anxious Age by Collin Hansen and Sarah Eekhoff ZylstraKeeping the Heart by John FlavelThe WEIRDest People in the World: How the West Became Psychologically Peculiar and Particularly Prosperous by Joseph Henrich12 Faithful Men edited by Collin Hansen and Jeff Robinson12 Faithful Women edited by Melissa Kruger and Kristen WetherellLet's Talk: Building Friendships with People Unlike Yourself (podcast episode)Gospelbound: From Mother to Son on Race, Religion, and Relevance (podcast episode)The Social Dilemma (documentary film)TGC 2020 Book Awards (article)TGCW21: Steadfast (national women's conference)TGC21: Jesus Is Greater (national conference)

Faith is the title of this 5-minute episode on the Scent of Light. A look into the geneology of my father's line revealed some ancestors as leaders of faith, but different faiths. The audio recording and transcript of the broadcast today is now online at http://kennethenorton.com/SOL/SOL200223.html

Dr. Ali Hassannia is Assistant Professor, Department of Qur’an and Hadith Studies, Shahed University of Iran. He has a PhD in Theology and Islamic Studies and has published multiple papers in Persian, Arabic and English. The paper he presented at the 7th International Islam and Liberty Conference was based on the analytical descriptive method using Quranic notions, traditional and Islamic teachings and views of thinkers. It aimed at discussing the limits of tolerance in Islam, particularly concerning freedom, and how some misconceptions could cause the tragic phenomenon of “holy ignorance”. It also criticized both Muslim and Western opinions in this regard. Finally, it showed the connection between intolerance, holy ignorance, radicalism, and lack of a sound understanding of religion. Visit our website at islamandlibertynetwork.org for his paper and presentation

When speaking about the idea of religious freedom it comes with a grieving of spirit due to what is seen. Do you feel ALL religions have complete freedom ? Do you feel that religious persecution is absent from our country? Have you been persecuted for your faithSee it on U-Tube https://youtu.be/CG3mrzXTrVwSupport the show (https://paypal.me/ravenbrookreadings?locale.x=en_US)

Have you ever received persecution from another? Have you ever felt hindered from practicing your faith due to such religious intolerance? Are you a Wiccan or a Christian that has had such harm done to you? Sit down with Richard Ravenbrook as spirit speaks on the issue of religious intolerance and the true need for real religious freedom. Support the show (https://paypal.me/ravenbrookreadings?locale.x=en_US)

In this episode Will sits down with first-generation American Arman Fouladpouri to discuss religious intolerance and civil discourse via social media.  Arman and will began a discussion on a congresswoman's Instagram page and it progressed all the way to the podcast!  We discuss his Muslim-Iranian roots, the complicated nature of peace in the Middle East, popular politicians, and how to have conversations rooted in curiosity rather than debate.

Is religious intolerance on the rise, and if so, what is behind it?In Sri Lanka this week, people claiming to be acting out of religious belief killed more than 350 people, mostly of a different faith – in this case Christians. Religious intolerance is a theme which has surfaced in the news with some frequency in recent years – be it the persecution of the Rohingya in Myanmar, the Yazidis in Iraq, the Uighurs in China or numerous blasphemy trials in Pakistan. On this week's programme, David Aaronovitch asks whether religious intolerance – be it intolerance of religions, or by religions - is actually on the rise.If so, who is leading this – governments? Nationalist political movements? Or the faithful themselves? CONTRIBUTORS:Alan Keenan, senior analyst at the International Crisis GroupAlan Cooperman, Director of Religion research, Pew Research CentreKaren Armstrong, author of The Lost Art of Scripture: Rescuing the Sacred TextsOliver McTernan, founder of the conflict resolution organisation, Forward ThinkingRobin Gill, Emeritus Professor of Applied Theology at the University of Kent

Monday, 01.14.2019: Why Leftists are Rejoicing - New Federal Data on Birthrates; Are Agents of the Islamic Republic of Iran Spying on Californians?; Democrats Party at the Beach as the President Awaits their Return in the White House to End the Shutdown; Religious Intolerance on the Left is Increasing in its Severity - Hear Why and How!; And, MORE….

Welcome to the halfway point of season 1!! To celebrate our 16th episode, we are announcing that we are now officially on Apple!  To find out, go to our website and click on the Apple link on our podcast page.  Last week we discussed the wealth of religious organizations and broke it down based on religions.  Hint: Christianity is the richest.  We also touched on the case of Asia Bibi who was trying to escape the death penalty at the hands of the Religion of Peace.  Saudi Arabia executed a WAPO journalist, Jamal Kashoggi and the world has done nothing to stop it or to condemn it.  Including our very own government. Today's main topic is a special privilege for us because for the first time in our history, we have a caller who will contribute his own unique perspective on the topic we are discussing.  You know him form Twitter as Apetivist or Ape, but you should know him from his brilliant insight into what impact religion has on society and on individuals.  Check him out and follow him on Twitter!

Religious intolerance is on the rise in Indonesia, and the state has reacted strongly from a security point of view, with initiatives such as a law passed last year that allows the government to disband any civil society group deemed to disrupt national unity. Many civil society groups support the law, declaring it as necessary to combat radicalism, terrorism, and intolerance. However, is this hard-line stance really the best approach to tackle the issue of rising religious intolerance in Indonesia? Is there a more nuanced way to confront rising religious intolerance?

March 22, 2018 | The values of the American Creed—pluralism, diversity, and tolerance—sustain U.S. global leadership and provide an aspiration to others. These principles contribute to the appeal and influence of the United States on the global stage. Insidious intolerance and delegitimizing rhetoric domestically undermines these ideals and provides space for hate crimes and degrading actions, threatening to devalue the currency of U.S. power. This panel discussion examined the impact of subtle and overt forms of domestic religious intolerance on the U.S. image and ability to pursue our policy objectives abroad. Looking forward, panelists discussed what the U.S. government and civil society can do to shape the narrative, rhetoric, and policies in the United States to preserve these unique components of the nation's power. This event was co-sponsored by the Berkley Center for Religion, Peace, and World Affairs; Campus Ministry; the Center for Contemporary Arab Studies; the Center for Jewish Civilization; the Center for Muslim-Christian Understanding; the Institute for the Study of Diplomacy; the Office of the Vice President for Global Engagement; and the Walsh School of Foreign Service.

Spotlight on Asia takes us to Indonesia where Jakarta's outgoing Christian governor was found guilty of blasphemy against Islam. Indonesian President Jokowi, a longtime ally of Ahok, has - wisely - avoided to making any comment on Ahok’s conviction. For observers, this insulates Jokowi somewhat from accusations that he is protecting a blasphemer, a claim that radical organizations would surely have seized on, especially ahead of the 2019 presidential election.  

FR 17 - 14 - Religious Intolerance Of Muslim Americans - Saad Sweilem - Rel Date 04 - 01 - 17 by Church State Council

Hate groups triple membership over the last year, Mormon church takes stance on transgender restroom issue, Boy Scout alternative sees uptick in membership, IKEA issues catalog for ultra orthodox Jews, Glitter Ash Wednesday, US Commission on Religious Freedom releases report gives poor grade to Hindus in India, and Frank and Dan remember growing up Mormon.

The Muslim Judicial Council (MJC) has approached the South African Human Rights Commission to investigate a series of attacks against mosques. In one incident a pig's snout was left on an entrance gate to a mosque in Simon's Town and in a second incident, blood was found splashed on the walls of a Mosque in Kalk Bay. Sakina Kamwendo speaks to Deputy President of the Muslim Judicial Council, Moulana Alie, about this development.

This month’s episode marks the first Roundtables episode of Humanities Viewpoints in which a group of Wake Forest faculty gather to discuss a topic from the lens of their respective fields. Today, our topic is “Familiar Prejudices from Unexpected Sources.” Our conversation includes discussions of anti-Greek sentiments in Roman satire, Ancient Greek and Roman anti-Semitism, women’s involvement in the second era Ku Klux Klan, imagined histories, and the rhetoric of the 2016 Presidential campaign. My guests are T.H.M Gellar-Goad, Jeffrey D. Lerner, and Lynn S. Neal. T. H. M. Gellar-Goad is Assistant Professor of Classical Languages at Wake Forest University. He specializes in Latin poetry, especially the funny stuff: Roman comedy, Roman erotic elegy, Roman satire, and — if you believe him — the allegedly philosophical poet Lucretius. Jeffrey D. Lerner is a Professor of History at Wake Forest University. His research focuses on the Hellenistic Period in the East. He teaches a variety of courses on Ancient History, including History 312: Jews, Greeks, and Romans. Lynn S. Neal is a scholar of American religious history. She is the co-editor, with John Corrigan, of Religious Intolerance in America, and the author of a number of articles on religious intolerance, including "Christianizing the Klan: Alma White, Branford Clarke, and the Art of Religious Intolerance," "The Ideal Democratic Apparel: T-shirts, Religious Intolerance, and the Clothing of Democracy," and "They're Freaks!: The Cult Stereotype in Fictional Television Shows, 1958-2008." She is Associate Professor and Associate Chair in the Department for the Study of Religions. I hope you enjoy our conversation. Here is a list of the readings and sources my guests draw from during this discussion: From Dr. Gellar-Goad: Translation of Juvenal's Third Satire by A. S. Kline: http://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Latin/JuvenalSatires3.htm Translation of Catullus 63 on Attis by A. S. Kline: http://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Latin/Catullus.htm#anchor_Toc531846788 From Dr. Lerner: Dio Cassius, Roman History, Volume 9: Books 71-80. Translated by Cary, E., Foster, H.B., Loeb Classical Library 177 (Harvard University Press, 1927). See 75.32 Tacitus, Annals, Volume 4: Books 4-6, 11-12. Translated by Jackson, J. Loeb Classical Library 312 (Harvard University Press, 1937). See 12.54. Tacitus, Histories, Volume 3: Books 4-5. Annals: Books 1-3. Translated by Moore, C.H. Classical Library 249 (Harvard University Press, 1931). See 5.1-13. For Claudius’ edict concerning the inhabitants of Alexandria, see Select Papyri, Volume 2: Public Documents. Translated by Hunt, A.S. and Edgar, C.C. Classical Library 282 (Harvard University Press, 1934). See Chapter 3 (pp.78-89). For Manetho, see Josephus, The Life. Against Apion. Translated by Thackery, H.St.J. Classical Library 186 (Harvard University Press, 1926). See 1.26-31 (227-287).

In recent years, historians, literary theorists, archaeologists, geographers and others have been exploring space—both physical and metaphorical—and the ways that it shapes, and is shaped by, us. In this podcast, host Richard Schramm talks with John Corrigan about “the spatial humanities,” a turn in academic research that brings together scholars from diverse fields, using new digital tools to better understand how we live in our spaces and how those spaces influence economics, politics, and culture. John Corrigan is the Lucius Moody Bristol Distinguished Professor of Religious Studies and Professor of History at Florida State University where his research focuses on American religious history, religion and emotion, religious intolerance, and the spatial humanities. He is the author or editor of over twenty books on these topics including, most recently, "The Oxford Handbook of Religion and Emotion," ed. (2008); "Religious Intolerance in America: A Documentary History," with Lynn Neal (2010); and "Emptiness: Feeling Christian in America" (2015). He was a Fellow at the National Humanities Center in 2014–15.

Romans 10:1-10 When Paul talks about "faith" he is talking from his own LIVED EXPERIENCE. He had the luxury of being hit by sort of a spiritual two-by-four on the Road to Damascus. Most of us have much smaller, subtler experiences of God's presence; but we have them. This week think of a concrete example of a time God's presence was made apparent in your life: The day you needed a ride somewhere and a friend called at just the right moment The day you met someone at the gym who sang the praises of a surgery you've been avoiding The lightbulb in your brain that went off as you chopped the carrots and provided the solution to the problem you've been worrying for weeks Have a great week!

Americans have long pictured themselves as all but free of religious intolerance and have difficulty coming to terms with the kinds of religious conflict and violence that occur in other parts of the world. In this podcast, host Richard Schramm talks with John Corrigan about America’s often forgotten history of religious intolerance despite our ideals and how that history has been all but lost. Their conversation also offers a preview of an NHC webinar, “Religious Freedom and Religious Intolerance in America,” which took place on Thursday, March 24, 2016. John Corrigan is the Lucius Moody Bristol Distinguished Professor of Religious Studies and Professor of History at Florida State University where his research focuses on American religious history, religion and emotion, religious intolerance, and the spatial humanities. He is the author or editor of over twenty books on these topics including, most recently, The Oxford Handbook of Religion and Emotion, ed. (2008); Religious Intolerance in America: A Documentary History, with Lynn Neal (2010); and Emptiness: Feeling Christian in America (2015). He was a Fellow at the National Humanities Center in 2014–15.

Michele Morris, Distinguished Religious Group Leader to the Fort Hood Open Circle, issued an open letter on religious freedom in the United States military on February 21, 2016. The February 25th edition of The Wild Hunt covered the story. Tonight she joins RevKess and KaliSara to talk about the situation with the listeners of the Pagan-Musings Podcast Channel. It is the hope of the Channel's host team that this coverage will help shed light on what some of our military brothers and sisters face when they attempt to worship and honor their Gods in a safe setting while on base. It is also their hope that other military personnel will hear this coverage and be shown just how difficult it can be to face religious intolerance in the military. After Michele's visit your hosts will talk in brief about the upcoming Super Tuesday primary and caucus next week and other news and issues of interest to Pagans in the United States and elsewhere around the globe. Listen through to the end to catch KaliSara's News in a Flash.

In the Talking Indonesia podcast, Dr Dave McRae and Dr Ken Setiawan alternately present extended interviews each fortnight with experts on Indonesian politics, foreign policy, culture, language and more. Photo credit: Flickr user mlutfi. Find all the Talking Indonesia episodes and more at the Indonesia At Melbourne blog.

Independent investigative journalism, broadcasting, trouble-making and muckraking with Brad Friedman of BradBlog.com

Independent investigative journalism, broadcasting, trouble-making and muckraking with Brad Friedman of BradBlog.com

Part 1 of 3: Originally Aired April 7, 2013 Dianne Linderman talks about President Obama flirting with California's Attorney General. Was that inappropriate? Dianne also discusses a recent news story: ?US Army Labeled Evangelicals, Catholics as Examples of Religious Extremism,? - a frightening example of the latest development in political scene. Learn more about Dianne on her website at http://www.everythingthatmattersradio.com/

At the top of tonight's show Prof. Barbara McGraw, Director for the Center for Engaged Religious Pluralism, discusses The American Founders & the Role of Religious Pluralism in American Public Life, along with her book, Taking Religious Pluralism Seriously. In the second half of the show, we have returning to the show a favorite guest, Patrick McCollum, discussing religious tolerance and the lack there of in the public arena.  Patrick will update us on his work in the field on this important subject.

Sometimes we simply have no choice but to tackle the tough issues — even if it means things will get ugly. Which is why, in episode 22 of Hey! That’s My Hummus! We discuss the recent violence and chaos which has troubled Great Britain over the past week. The riots sparked by the shooting death…

Beloved Foremother Barbara Walker will discuss her newest book, Man Made God which will include topics such as what's the basic excuse for oppression of women by all three so-called Abrahamic patriarchal religions. How does patriarchal religion foster sexism, fanaticism and intolerance. Why does the biblical god demand blood sacrifice before granting forgiveness of sin. What led Barbara to the conclusion God is not good. AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HOUR also a favorite return guest is Rev. Patrick McCollum discussing Goddess Thealogy Rising. Patrick will bring us up to date on the court case he's been waging for Tier Two religions not afforded the same rights at Tier One religions in our country. And all the incredible latest developments that have happened since he received the prestigious Mahatma Ghandi award.

Guests C. Holland Taylor, Frankie Picasso, and I discuss Sharia law, Islam, spirituality, politics, and more.

Guests C. Holland Taylor, Frankie Picasso, and I discuss Sharia law, Islam, spirituality, politics, and more.

Transport your mind to another world for a moment. Another reality with another set of standards. This other world is located right in the heart of the Middle East. In 1932, after a 30 year campaign by the Al Saud family, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia was unified and founded. Seventy-eight years later, the nation is looked down upon by most of the globalized world as a home to a backwards society. How does one solve this complicated juggernaut of ultraconservatism mixed in with all the other bad things like a hippocratic and antiquated government and a people who might not know if they are being oppressed or not? This is the problem in Saudi Arabia as discussed previously. If reform is enacted, in due time Saudi Arabia can become a real champion of human rights as it fancies itself today, and it’s progression can set a real example for change toward tranquility in the Middle East.

Transport your mind to another world for a moment. Another reality with another set of standards. This other world is located right in the heart of the Middle East. In 1932, after a 30 year campaign by the Al Saud family, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia was unified and founded. Seventy-eight years later, the nation is looked down upon by most of the globalized world as a home to a backwards society. Saudi Arabia is home to the birthplace of Islam and is a place where all observant muslims make a pilgrimage to one in their lifetime. It’s a place that is technically 100% muslim, and there is absolutely no religious tolerance. On 1 May 2009, Saudi Arabia was named by the U.S. Commission for International Religious Freedom as among the 13 most religiously oppressive countries in the world. In fact it came second, just behind North Korea.