I'm OK -- You're OK*

The bishops were perturbed.

Anti-gay-marriage measures were handily approved in seven of eight states, but still the bishops felt unfulfilled. So they convened at their headquarters, a dank, musty warren of caverns deep in the Ozarks, where they donned their flashy robes, gnashed their yellow teeth, beat their pale, flabby man-breasts, and wailed mightily.

"We've made it clear where we stand, but we must do more," said one bishop as a small boy emerged from under his robe and scurried away. "I agree," said another. "Society reviles the gays less each day. We must smash them down before it's too late." "I'm with you," said a third. "Next thing you know, women will want a place in the clergy." A collective gasp cut through the cool, damp air, and the circle of puffy white faces clenched in horror, their gin blossoms reddening further at the ghastly thought. They decided on a course of action.

This, in turn, forced the Baptists' hand. Having long prided themselves on outdoing the Catholics at intolerance, homophobia, and all-around backwardness, they realized immediately that they had to act. So they called an emergency meeting at their lair, somewhere between the second and third layers of the earth's crust, and drew up their own plan.

You can read about both actions here, with a dash of Presbyterianism thrown in for good measure.

* Certain restrictions apply.