Once upon a time in the land of delusion and doorbells, there were two kingdoms. One wore red hats. The other wore polyester suits and knocked on your door with pamphlets.Both swore they had The Truth. Both swore everyone else was wrong. Both swore that if you didn’t get on board, the world was gonna burn — and you were going with it.
Let’s start with Kingdom A, where the King isn’t Jesus, it’s Donald J. Trump — a bloated orange Messiah who speaks in broken slogans and rules by grievance. His followers chant his name like a prayer and hang his mugshot like a saint’s relic. Facts don’t matter here. Only faith — in the Party, in the Cause, in the man who never shuts up about himself.
Then there’s Kingdom B, where Jesus isn’t the long-haired hippie from the cross — no, here he’s a grumpy ghost nailed to a stake (not a cross, how dare you), presiding over a religion run by eight anonymous dudes in suits up in upstate New York who talk like HR managers but act like the CIA. They tell you what to read, what to say, what to feel — and most importantly, who’s out. Which is everyone but them.
Now here’s the twist: these two kingdoms? Same cult. Different Daddy.
The MAGA people think the world ended when Obama got elected. The Witnesses think it ended in 1914 and just hasn’t realized it yet. Both think Satan runs the media, liberals are dangerous, and you should cut off your family if they don’t fall in line.
They love a strongman. They hate questions. They worship persecution. And they’re obsessed with the apocalypse — they just picture different horsemen riding in.
MAGA says, “The election was stolen!”
JW says, “The cross is pagan!”
Translation: “We’re the only ones who see the truth — everyone else is asleep.”
They both weaponize nostalgia.
MAGA wants 1955 back, where minorities stayed quiet and women knew their place.
JW wants the first century back, when the church was small, angry, and nobody had a birthday party.
Both hate sex unless it’s missionary and guilt-ridden.
Both think science is suspicious.
Both live in bubbles of approved media and hand-picked “facts.”
Both want to turn off your brain and plug you into their system — for your salvation, of course.
And here’s the punchline:
If Trump said Jesus died on a stake, MAGA would switch tomorrow. If the Governing Body said Trump was the Anointed, JWs would vote for the first time in their lives.
It’s not about truth. It’s not about God. It’s about belonging to a team that says you’re right and the world is wrong. A team with a Supreme Leader who never admits fault and always needs more followers.
So whether you’re chanting “USA!” at a rally or holding up a Watchtower in front of a laundromat, congratulations: you’ve been recruited. You’ve got your uniform, your script, and your doomsday calendar.
All that’s left is to wait for the end — and hope your Daddy saves you.
Meanwhile, In Reality Land…
While these two cults fight over which invisible man in the sky hates gays more, here’s what they really agree on: shutting you up. Killing your freedom. Canceling anything that smells like sex, smut, or a woman who owns her own nipples.
MAGA wants to ban porn because it “corrupts the youth.” The Witnesses want to ban it because it “displeases Jehovah.” Same shit. Same shame. Same hard-on for control.
But porn — the kind that says “fuck your rules” and “yes, she wanted it” — that’s free speech. It’s the dirty, defiant, unrepentant kind of speech they can’t stand. The kind that moans. The kind that exposes. The kind that says: we are not yours to censor.
SCREW’s been saying it since 1968 — if you can’t say “pussy” in public, you’re not free. If you need a permission slip to get off, you’re already in chains. When cults start handing out blindfolds, the loudest thing you can do is strip down and say something filthy.
That’s why they hate us. Not because porn is “immoral” — but because it’s out of their control. Because it doesn’t kneel. Because it doesn’t believe in their Daddy.
So while Kingdom A and Kingdom B argue over whether it’s a “stake” or a “cross,” we’ll be over here printing pussy, screening smut, and reminding you that free speech doesn’t end at the zipper.
Don’t like it? Close your eyes.
We’re still coming.
—P.
