ouch.

So the problem with reading a whole lot of Slacktivist's exegesis on Left Behind, in which he demolishes both the crappy writing and the crappy theology page-by-page, and then going off to read some fic that is, uh, really not entirely stellar, is that I find I have this little Fred Clark voice in the back of my head, picking it apart line by line.

Dammit, Fred Clark! It's Friday afternoon! I JUST WANTED TO READ SOME FIC.