From the Thomas Road Baptist Church comes this little treat. Meet Diane. She’s going to hell.

Dancing, and dancing alone, may seem like a small thing, but the church is right…it’s a step towards much bigger problems. Like when you’re dancing in a bar, you’ve got your drink in your hand, and then, all of a sudden, you find yourself falling onto a series of erect penises belonging to strange men. That happens to everyone, right? The guy on the right side of the picture knows what I’m talking about.

I’m not sure which one Diane is, but I really have to weep for the people in this Virginia area of that girl is the type of lady who’s always out “dancing”. I wouldn’t “dance with her” with your “dancing shoes”. Unless I hadn’t “danced” in a while, I guess. “Dancing” by yourself can get boring after a couple weeks. It’s always the same “dance moves”. And then you towel yourself down and kind of sadly “dance” again because you feel lonely and, for that brief moment when you’re “dancing”, you feel something. Yeah. Dancing ain’t easy.