When you hear the battle cry, I want y’all to race forward and try real hard not to get your p**ises shot off.
You know the rules. I don’t talk how my meat gets made, you don’t talk about your magic man in the sky.
The more active targets we can offer the preacher, the more likely we are to overwhelm him with our faceless wave of humanity. Again, to clarify, I don’t say “faceless” in a pejorative meaning so much as a practical sense, as it will be night and your faces will be indistinct and immaterial.