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Even though I don’t care about organized religion, I still feel some type of way when
people who weren’t forced to sit in stiff ruffles and too-tight patent leather mary janes for four hours every Sunday morning get to just, you know, buy an Easter basket without having done any of the work.
It relaxes me to think that by paying the most possible taxes, I’m keeping my karma right, so just let me live with that delusion.
