Don’t be fooled and imagine we’re praying for evil. That wish has already been granted. We have more than sufficient evil, thank you, and if anyone else is running low, well, we are willing to trade some of ours—for even the cheapest red wine.
What we are yearning for is a visit from that inspired guttersnipe, sent irregularly from Heaven to enrage the Religious Right. The patron saint of snow days and public sex. The policeman’s untied laces. The fire drill that goes off at exactly the right time.
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