Joe’s Monologue: “Christ-like Passion”
You wanna know what happened with me and Nelly? Sister Helen happened. That’s right. We had a square dance planned—old school, wholesome, hearts aligned, steps rehearsed under the stars. But every time I tried to take her hand, to lead her into that four-cornered rhythm of love, some divine veto came down like thunder. Kiboshed. Shut down. Cancelled by the cosmos.
I asked myself, why? Every approach I made was pure—no guile, no game. Just Joe. But God? God put up a velvet rope like we were sinners trying to sneak into heaven with dirty boots.
And while I was down on the floor, trying to pick up the pieces of that shattered barn dance dream, the shadow government was busy. Busy pumping out oceans of pornography—digitized, weaponized, industrial-strength smut. It was like they were trying to smother every soldier’s soul beneath an avalanche of silicon temptation.
They called me G.I. Joe, but they forgot I had a heart.
See, I hate the deep state. I hate the shadow government with a Christ-like passion. Not the kind that bombs cities. The kind that flips tables in temples. The kind that says, “Not in my Father’s house.” The kind that bleeds on a cross while forgiving the enemy—but still tells the truth with fire in His eyes.
They think they can rewrite the programming of our hearts. But I got news for them.
This soldier still square dances.
And I dance for the kingdom.