As a small group of protesters prayed, hundreds waited for tickets to the unveiling of an eight foot tall bronze statue of a goat headed Satan.

Most of the people here agree with the teachings of the Satanic Temple, the group responsible for the event.

I'm just excited to see my Lord and Savior Baphomet represented in such glorious Italian stone.

I'll do hope his eyes gaze upon me and the my allegiance is recognized.

I don't know. Notice me, Senpai. Notice me.

The Satanic Temple says the statue is a symbol for what they advocate, the separation of church and state.

It's like you can't have one without the other, you know? Like a mequal parts god in the devil.

A cloak of shame covers this man, and only supreme light will wash my body clean.

But how could that light possibly reach me with the thick clouds of indecency that surround my poor soul?

So I carry my wrongdoings on my back, like some kind of tormented hiker, lost in the hills of misfortune,

looking desperately for that peak to rescue him from the valley of depraved habitual self-pleasuring.

But again, I find nothing, except for sweaty, devastated loneliness and a thousand judging eyes staring back at me

from the cover of a stolen Victoria's Secret Catalog.

I didn't take your mail, Mrs. Pemberton. Stop asking me that. Leave me alone!

Satan's pretty cool?

T-B-T-L

Well, it's really kind of simple, see? I speak into this, and my voice is instantaneously transmitted out where it's heard by well over a hundred people.

You like drinking?

It's fun with the right people, but I don't drink to get drunk.

Does happiness come in bottles?

Yes, yes it does.

Eh, tomato tomato.

...