RIPOSTE
by RIP RENSE |
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FISH STORY
Oct. 24, 2007
So there
was this giant fish, a grouper
to end all groupers, and it came here a few thousand eons ago. It opened its
mouth, and out came Man. Followed shortly thereafter by Woman, and the
poodle. And Man and
Woman began to promptly fornicate, and give forth of their kind, which
eventually outnumbered the dinosaurs, which were hunted and eaten into
extinction.
And some particularly
nasty (or hungry) humans also killed and ate the grouper, which riled up
God, you see, because God was a grouper, too, and the dead fish was his only
begotten son. But on the fourth or fifth day, somebody saw the grouper
swimming offshore near Monte Carlo, smoking a cigar and looking very sharp
in cravat and beret, and lo, it was said that he had risen from the dead.
And God said Man was cursed with sin and evil, and the Bushes and Clintons,
but one day the grouper would return and set things right, and all who ever
loved the grouper, dead and living, would stride into his open mouth, and he
would then swim up to heaven, and release them into eternal fields of
lollipops and cocaine and sex, and all other things that humans love best.
The rest would remain on earth, doomed to burn and rot with Oprah Winfrey
and Fox News.
This is Christianity,
or at least, what much of it has become. The generic Christian yarn is no
better---actually much less colorful and entertaining---than this tale, or
countless other religious mythologies to be found on this suffocating little
spinning sphere. Just think: lots of Jesus dingoes actually believe that
humans cavorted with Barney the Purple Dinosaur and his lumbering pals, just
a few thousand years ago.
Really. And hey---how 'bout that Jesus-died-for-your-sins sitcom?
God says he'll forgive you
every Sunday for any sins you commit---infanticide, cannibalism, listening
to Rush Limbaugh---because Pilate nailed his son up a long time ago? Huh? Such a
deal!
Whoever Jesus was, or
Jesus-es, and whatever shiny and pure things he or they stood for,
fuhgeddabouddit. It's: we all gwyne up to hebbin on de big ribuhboat,
and you’re not. We believe, therefore we are saved. You’re not. You
soon-to-be pustule-ridden, Rapture-festering craphounds.
The supernatural aspects
of the whole Son of God melodrama are a giant fish story---the crucified one that got
away---but that’s fine because most people need to believe in supernatural
things, and an "after-life," and honest elections. And of course, there is
an after-life. We are all broken down into bits of carbon and methane and
reconstituted into other things. We are the greatest imaginable argument for recyling. Your grandmother could be a milk carton. Or a tampon. Or a bird of
paradise. Or all three.
So today in these here
Yoo-benighted States, or Unitashtase, as Bush pronounces it, we have those
madcap, fun-loving, zany so-called fundamentalists (boy are they
fundamental) and Armageddonists and End-Timers and Evangelicals who all
believe that Mr. Jesus Christ is coming back anysecondnow and that
“believers” will be whisked right out of their clothes and launched, buck-nekkid,
to the Great Nudist Colony in the Sky. Forever and ever, world without end,
Amen. Me, I’d find that a little embarrassing. I’d prefer wearing a nice
Pendleton and jeans when I meet the Big Grouper. Although I wouldn’t mind
seeing Monica Bellucci’s end-times, if you know what I mean.
Now all this would be
just a bit funny---and it used to be, back in the ‘70’s when you could
get stoned and laugh your ass off at televangelists----if it were not for
the fact that these dithering JEEE-suhs flunkies determine government
policy.
Twenty-five percent of Congress believes that Man and dinosaur were
pinochle partners. I mean, think about that: would you hire insane retards with a death
wish to run the country? Well, you have!
Frank Zappa
predicted
it decades ago, but I figured he was exaggerating. (Whoops.) Yes, people who
not only think the human world is ending---but who want the human world to
end---have been influencing and making policy in Washington with progressive
success since the country grew diseased enough to elect that B-movie actor. I
mean, one of the current presi-dense-ial candidates subscribes to a religion
that believes The C-Man will set up HQ in Atlanta. Tweet! Now it is all pinnacling
with Prezboy “God speaks through me”/”I cry on God’s shoulder” Bush. Yes, I
know you know, but I think you need to be reminded. Every time I think about
it, I want to slap myself upside the hay-uhd, and hope I wake up back in
Kansas.
Christianity, as it has
been comic booked and cartooned, has become nothing more than a death cult.
Jim Jonesville, with corpulent uglies like
John Hagee and the (late---thank
you, Jesus) Jerry Falwell spewing nothing but corpulent ugliness. These are men of
God? Then send me to Hay-uhll! All most Christians are doing today is a-linin’
up, a-grinnin’, for the Jesus Kool-Aid Rapture. (Actually, Jones served
grape Flavor-Aid, the Kool-Aid knockoff. Couldn’t even let his flock fly
first-class.) And going to “mega-churches” where they get whipped up into an
eyeball-rolling-back-in-the-head, goo-goo-boo-goo talkin’-in-tongues froth
by filthy rich skinks and salamanders like Joel Osteen and
Benny Hinn.
Understand: these
people want to die and go straight to guh-lorrr-ay! Now you can see how
this could just have a wee bit of an impact on oh, war, and foreign policy,
and maybe queer your chances of pouring yourself a big bowl of Honeynut
Cheerios tomorrow morning and slapping the li’l woman playfully on the ass.
Of course, it has also provided us with the worst comedy team since Abbott
and Costello (who weren’t really very funny, and Costello hated Abbott), and
by that I refer to Christians and Jews. Yes, dentally-impaired Christians
about as smart and book-eddicated as gum trees have aligned themselves with
their Jewish “brethren,” who---and you’ll have to indulge a bit of
racist/ethnic generalization here---tend to be no more highly educated or
intelligent than the average Nobel Prize-winning chemist or poet. I mean,
har! Har again!
These Christians, of
course, think Babble prophecy dictates that Israel’s presence is “required”
for Jesus to come screaming down in a cosmic Cadillac, or, as the Hagee Left
Behind crowd thinks, to come thundering down as a mighty, avenging
warrior.
Samurai Christ.
Yes, these people have their brains in their left behind,
but it doesn’t matter. Dick Cheney just went to Utah and
made a nice speech for them---yes, for the Left Behind goons. He’s the
ultimate End-Timer, is Dick, and he’s working ‘round the clock to scrub your
good-time. And shall I get the pincers and extract a delicate little irony?
Okay. These so-called Christians until recently were a veritable glee-club
of Anti-Semitism---the kind of pious, forgiven-on-Sundee folk who blame “the
Jews” for just about everything short of toenail fungus. And their Jewish
supporters? Well, this is a match made in Armageddon heaven, as most of the
Jews whoring it up with Hagee’s nutball
Christians United For Israel
are neocon right-wing kneejerk reactionary Israel-can-do-no-wrong bellicose
paranoid nuke-slavering backers of the
Israel lobby.
Who’s on first? Hey,
Abbooooottttttt. . .
See, the joker in this
whole Death Cult Christianity deck is the word, “faith.” It is the Big
Hoodoo, the magic dust that powders all current Jesus events, the comfy blanky that just smothers everything with nice, oozy, drippy, honied
beatitude. “Faith” connotes purity, holiness, goodness, and possibly lack of
an anus. It is a word very often spoken by people who have just committed
murder, rape, or rape-murder. Politicians brought down by (take your choice)
stealing, embezzling, diddling underage boys and girls, spewing reproductive
fluid on interns’ dresses, promptly begin speaking of their “faith.” Presidink Bush, who has caused the deaths of between half-a-million and a
million Iraqis, speaks often of his “faith.” When “believers” start talking
of “faith” and “faith-based initiatives,” it just sounds dang-near as sweet
as one of Aunt Bee’s gooseberry pies on a Mayberry windowsill, don’t it?
Ah, how they love to say
it. MY FAITH. I don’t know what I would do without MY FAITH. MY FAITH will sustaineth my ass.
Watch me roll my eyes back and smile as if the vibrator is
on overdrive and say, “MY FAITH.” Well, let’s examine this word, “faith,” just
for futile sport. When you attempt to engage a “believer” in discussion of
his or her religion, first they deny they have a “religion.” Huh? That’s
right---it’s knowledge, not “religion.” They know. It's their
personal relationship with Gawd. (As if Gawd could be bothered with
Johnny Johnson of Jackson Hole.) And before long,
FAITH shows up, like froth in the mouth of a holy rollin’ snake-handler. It
goes something like this.
Why do you say that
Jesus Christ is the son of God? Well, because he is the son of God! But this
is your belief---it’s not a fact. No, I know this. I don’t believe
it. Okay, then why do you call yourself a believer, asshole?
This. . .is “faith.” When
you claim to know something instead of merely believing it, and when you
“know” that all other points of view and contrary religious notions are
wrong and will get the believer sent to hell, or at least Fresno, you have.
. .faith. In other words, when there is no evidence to warrant believing
something, you simply decide to accept it as truth, and you call it “faith.”
Shazam!
This is where the
Jesusists are drilling without a molar, spouting without a blowhole,
smoking without the crack. (And adherents of most other religions.) This
sort of “faith” is as pure and simple a definition of insanity as has ever
existed. I believe in Jesus because it’s true. I believe in leprechauns
because they are real. I believe in tiny happy dogs growing in my armpits
because they are. The Bible is the word of God because it is. Yeah, but the
Bible was written by humans. No, The Bible is the word of God. No, you
believe The Bible is the word of God. No, I don’t---I know it for a fact.
How do you know God is not a really smart ferret? Because I know it!
Before long, they tend to
get a little peeved, sort of like the Daleks in “Dr. Who,” indignantly
caterwauling, “Do not blaspheme! Do not blaspheme!” I know people who get
angry---angry---if you tell jokes that involve Jesus or God. Seriously
angry. Like the Mormon minister in Utah who years ago sent me an e-mail
bursting with profanity and denunciation in response to a column I had
written. Very Christian of her!
Look, I’ll allow for the
slight possibility that extra terrestrials will come back to visit the
planet and wipe out all war-mongering murderous jackasses who were not part of the
initial prehistoric E.T. experiments on monkeys. But that’s as far as I’ll
go. I’m a here-and-now kinda guy, anyhow.
And I think that here
and now we need to get some laws passed, fast. First, there should be a
law that Disneyland must be rebuilt and restored exactly to Walt’s original
specifications, standards, and morality. Get rid of all the Star Wars crap,
and slow down all the Fantasyland rides to their original speed. Then:
outlaw pineapple on pizza. Also: all female TV news, sports, and
weathermannequins must wear no make-up, never show teeth, and blouses must
button all the way up. Further: television journalists should wear wrinkled
shirts, loose ties, and have extensive backgrounds in print journalism.
Also: say the word, “cool,” in public, except in reference to temperature,
and pay a $1000 fine. Second offense: jail time. And of course there should
be a law outlawing all SUV’s, tattooes, and young women talking on cell
phones.
But most of all, let’s
ban all influence by all religious groups in government. Period. No
financial contributions allowed, no “Christian” lobbyists, no Jesus nothin’.
Candidates running on a platform merging of church and state? Disqualify. Then tax the hell out of all the churches, and use the revenue exclusively
for health care, gang rehabilitation, free chocolate, and planting trees.
Forever and ever, Amen.
WE GET E-MAIL:
Sir:
all I can say is: "Amen, brother"!
Well, that and thanks for evoking all the great gut-guffaws (tempered only
by the serious
scariness of the reality you nailed with such wicked precision); laughter is
absolutely the quintessential antidote to such rancid bullshit (referring to
these rabid neochristians, not your article, of course)!
Ciao,
Brian James
ps. About the only place you and I differ, is that I actually like pineapple
on my pizza.
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