Lean on my anti-testimony until you find your own. Until you can say that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt and with every fiber of your being that the church is full of racoon feces, let me say it for you, while you feel the spirit of the unholy ghost frost your crotch confirming my words.
Just like the parable of the Bachelor and the Seven Whores that gathered shots of Jäger to enter the frat party, such is the way of the exmormon.
Don't be the whore without booze that was left outside of the party and had to text her sister to pick her up and it was very embarrassing, and she totally felt like a loser. Don't be the exmormon without your own anti-testimony.
Listen to the former prophet's grandson, study the journal of discourses, and pray to me, Raptor Jesus, and no TBM will ever deceive you with the pretend truth.
Blog peeps and peepettes. It is my blasphemous prayer that you will take my counsel and cram it.