I am not superpastor. I don’t do well in an office nine to five. I jump out of my skin if I am in meetings too long. I am institutionally challenged. I had this false sense of guilt and subsequent shame because I believed deep down that I wasn’t working hard enough. And I believed the not-working-hard-enough lie because I didn’t function like superpastor, who isn’t real anyway. So I had one choice – I had to kill superpastor. I had to take him out back and end his pathetic existence. …I meet so many people who have superwhatever rattling around in their head. They have this person they are convinced they are supposed to be, and their superwhatever is killing them. They have this image they picked up over the years of how they are supposed to look and act and work and play and talk, and it’s like a voice that never stops shouting in their year. And the only way to not be killed by it is to shoot first. Yes, that is what I meant to write. You have to kill your superwhatever.