Screwed up in the head true crime (& now S-E-X) author Suzy Spencer ("a mostly celibate, middle-aged Southern Baptist with a self-described 'terror of touch'”):
Oh yes. One time when I was living in L.A. and I was having sex with this guy and I’m lying there looking at the ceiling and over to the right filling up practically the entire ceiling, just like Woody Allen in “New York Stories” with his mother filling up the New York skyline, I’m seeing my mother’s face and she’s so upset and saying, “This is wrong! How can you be doing this?” Then I look over to the left and in a teeny tiny corner of the ceiling there is God going, “It’s OK. I don’t like this, but I understand. It’s OK.” I’m still confused about premarital sex, whether it’s right or wrong, but I know God understands and it’s OK.We honestly don't mean to pick on this apparently-tortured-by-hallucinations-of-her-mother woman (Salon asked: "You start the book off by writing about your 'terror of touch*.' You hated to be tickled or even hugged as a child. You state flat-out that you don’t know whether this arose from abuse in your past, of which you have no memory, or whether you had simply been around so many people who had been molested that you 'absorbed' their feelings." Get that? "... simply been around so many people who had been molested that you 'absorbed' their feelings." All nice families, we assume.) but this is the nature of Southern Bab-tiss religion? A tiny, disapproving (Yet accepting. How morally relative.) hallucination in the corner of the ceiling? While "having sex?"
Their religion has been debased from the already self-centered "personal relationship w/ Jesus" to a personal hallucination starring Ceiling Cat. How truly exceptional this fucking country is.
*We're not violent, but if you touch us we'll break your arm.