Why I am a Milodolator

Many of my Christian friends wonder why I have erected a nine-story tall idol made out of of radioactive protactinium atop Mount Erebus in Antarctica to my hero Milo Yiannopoulos, to which each dark of the moon I sacrifice thirteen lesbians and journalists and randy Ethiopian bisexuals, thereby violating four of the Ten Commandments and two amendments of the Bill of Rights.

It is not hard to explain.

It is for three reasons: first, I had many metric tons of isotropic protactinium sitting around my backyard, and, second, I wished to imperil my immortal soul with the stain of darkest crimes against mankind.

But the third reason is this.


Even since reaching the age of reason, seven winters, and seeing and hearing the vapid dishonesty issuing from the news media (I was a child when the Watergate scandal was all the news, and the news first learned it had more power than the government) my constant daydream has been to speak with such fearless forthrightness into the face of the lying newsmen as Milo here in this clip speaks.

I wanted someone, anyone, in the public eye to point the finger at the news and tell the people, those with ears to hear, how false and sordid were the lies, the endless lies, the heartless lies, the treacherous, petty, unsightly, small-minded lies they heard forever and ever, without cease, from the unclean lips of the newsmen. And then to stick that pointing finger in the newsman’s eye.

I wanted someone to tell the truth. All true men hunger for truth. It is as necessary as clean air, bright sunlight, brown beer and golden bread for human happiness.

What sins Milo commits in the privacy of the public square are between him and his Maker, as mine are between me and mine. But may God bless Milo for the good he has done my digestion and my heartache: seeing this tape had cure my gout and my umbrage. Now I go dancing about my daily chores, light of heart and bright of cheer.

Thank you, Milo, you magnificent wicked boy, you.

Now go to confession.