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trystinn* Theocracy Alert*
"*Listen up, you Christo-Fascist bullies, you Apostles of
Perpetual Psychosis, it's high time somebody called you out*
By Phil Rockstroh
Online Journal Contributing Writer
8-30-5
"If he [Hugo Ch�vez] thinks we're trying to assassinate him, I think
that we really ought to go ahead and do it. It's a whole lot cheaper
than starting a war. And I don't think any oil shipments will stop."-Pat
Robertson
"Muslims want to rule the world. They want to take over the whole world.
That's their evil purpose . . . Most of them are very harsh. There's no
tenderness or love."
Question asked by Rose Aguila: "Where do you get your information about
the war?" Answer of Mary Fowler, 54, Oklahoma housekeeper: "The Bible
and the 700 Club. I also listen to preachers who know what's going on.
Pat Robertson."-Excerpted from Rose Aguila's blog, Stories in America:
Conversations at the Gas Pump
http://storiesinamerica.blogspot.com/2005/08/
conversations-at-gas-pump.html
<http://storiesinamerica.blogspot.com/2005/08/conversations-at-gas-pump.html>
Listen up, Reverend Robertson, Mary Fowler and every last one of you
Apostles of Perpetual Psychosis, it's time that you were called out.
The time is long past due the rest of us ceased our cowering and stood
up to you Christo-fascists bullies. The hour has come round that we look
you straight in your bulging, true believer eyes, and told you that
we've had it with your smugness, with your blood-drenched crusades, with
your victim mentality-and with the madness begot by this cracked-brain
belief system of yours, which all began (according to your sacred
delusions) more than 2,000 years ago, when, at the behest of a wicked
cabal, a mob of mammon-worshipping, blood-lusting rabble went on a
cosmic killing-spree and murdered your god.
First off, let's get one thing straight: No one ever killed anyone's god
(not Jews, nor Romans, nor Geeks playing Dungeons and Dragons)-although
it's time somebody nailed you, you collection of conflated failures at
Christian martyrdom, to a metaphysical cross of reality.
It's high time someone told you outright that you must be suffering from
holy water on the brain, if you think we can't see you for what you are:
a klavern of counterfeit prophets waxing psychotic for other cretinous
hypocrites. Also, you can cease playing the persecuted party, whenever
someone stands up to you, because we're no longer buying that ploy.
Remember, you're the ones who threw the first epitaphic stones. It was
you who labeled us a mob of Hell-bound, Satan-pimping sodomists . . .
Although-as much fun as that sounds-I must ask you, where do you get the
unmitigated gall to make such insane claims? When did the golden light
of the sun abandon its position in the eastern horizon and begin rising,
each morning, from out of your silly, neo-Iron Age asses?
And tell me this, you medievalist simps, you delusional, retrograde
dip-shits, how is it possible that you became privy to such timeless
truths-that the mind of the "One True God" is available to you, and that
God's words and wishes resonate through yawning millennia to be
understood only by you and you alone?
Looking back on the rise of you Christo-fascist bastards, I'm mortified
as to how it came to be socially and politically acceptable for you to
bandy such vicious and demented assertions in the public arena, without
them meeting with the derision they deserve . . . And don't bother going
into one of your pat victim-swoons over being called on it, because when
you go so far as to claim that you alone have been bestowed with the
secrets of boundless creation-and that anyone who chooses not to buy
into your version of events will be condemned to the torments of eternal
damnation-then you can bet your fatuous asses that your asinine
assertions will be ridiculed. What in the blue blazes did you expect,
for us simply to fall to our collective knees before you?
Yet, I fear that's exactly what you expect from us.
Could I suggest an alternative idea? Would you simply let the rest of us
be? Would it be possible for you to keep your life-defying delusions to
yourself-keep them within the airless confines of your bigotry-riddled
churches and the cramped quarters of your own minds?
If that's the way you choose to spend the passing hours of this finite
life, it's fine by me. But when you start your habitual proselytizing,
then you should be prepared to be told that a great many of us think
your cosmological conceptions are a steaming pile of elephant dung.
And, while we're on the subject, for the longest time, I've been wanting
to tell you this: If Jesus died for my pathetic sins, then he flat-out
overreacted.
What makes this situation all the more unsettling is you believe these
creepy, death-enamored myths are literally true. Instead, I suggest you
try the following: Rather than attempting to commune with Jesus, the
Virgin Mary, the Holy Ghost (or Casper the Friendly Ghost) or the Lucky
Charms Leprechaun, why don't you attempt to channel the departed spirits
of Voltaire or H.L. Mencken? There will be no otherworldly conjuring (or
con jobs) required to perform this miracle: simply go to the public
library and check out their books.
Once there, you might want to stop by the science section, as well,
where you could happen upon a few delusion-decimating tidbits such as
the following: While your bible tells you that the earth is a shade over
7,000 thousand years old, the actual figure is (approximately) 4.6
billion years. How do you account for the slight discrepancy of say . .
. 4,599,993,000 years? And that number is derived when calculated
against the approximated age of the earth-not that of the universe,
which is estimated to be between 10 to 20 billion years old. You can do
the math on that one, all you reality-challenged Children of the Lord.
And those aren't the only things in your bible that just don't add up.
In your Book of Joshua (10:13) it is stated that God commanded the sun
to stand still in the sky . . . Really now? Pardon me . . . but how is
it possible that this omniscient god of yours, whom you believe created
the earth and heavens, all by his divine lonesome, didn't realize the
simple fact that the sun doesn't revolve around the earth?
Furthermore, he was apparently ignorant of numerous smaller details as
well, such as, where in Matthew (13: 32) he identified mustard seeds as
"[ . . . ] the smallest of seeds." How can it be that the creator of the
universe could have had such an embarrassing lapse of basic knowledge on
the subject of botany?
And what about the many other lapses in logic (flights of fantasy that
are insane by any standard, with the exception of the sublime logic
found in the realm of cartoons), such as the one about the fellow who
survived, for three days and three nights, in the stomach of a monstrous
fish (Jonah 1:17)-and what was up with that wacky, talking donkey in
Numbers (22:28)? We're in Looney Tunes territory now, all you highly
suggestible Idiots of God. Plus, in a cartoon universe, such as the one
described in the Book of Exodus, why didn't the Almighty, instead of
leveling plagues and pestilence upon the guilty and innocent alike in
Egypt, simply, drop an ACME anvil down from heaven on the head of
Pharaoh and be done with it?
Which brings up the subject of the deplorable cruelty of your deity of
choice. Ergo, isn't this a lovely little passage from Deuteronomy
(32:23-25)? "I will spend mine arrows upon them . . . The sword without,
and terror within, shall destroy both the young man and the virgin, the
suckling also with the man of gray hairs."
Then there is this lovely bit of divinely inspired baby-killing and
faith-based rape from Isaiah (13:9,15-18): "Behold, the day of the Lord
cometh, cruel both with wrath and fierce anger . . . Every one that is
found shall be thrust through . . . Their children also shall be dashed
to pieces before their eyes . . . and their wives ravished. Behold, I
will stir up the Medes against them. . . . [T]hey shall have no pity on
the fruit of the womb; their eye shall not spare children."
Worse, your striving to make these pathological ravings manifest have
resulted in tragic consequences. As is the case with your current,
genocidal adventure in Iraq, where you believed the vengeful ghosts of
the Crusades could be dispatched, dissolved in the beatific light
flaring from the bombs that your holy (armchair) warrior, commander and
chief ordered dropped from Kabul to Bagdad . . . In your madness, you
believed you could make the citadels of the New Jerusalem manifest in
Mesopotamia. Upon every bomb detonation, you were certain that the
heathen hordes cowered before your righteous fury, that ghost and demon
would flee back to Hell, and the wicked would tremble before your sacred
fury. Now, of course, that all worked out just like you saw it in your
head beforehand, didn't it?
As we speak, your Armies of the Lord (who more closely reassemble a
collection of economic conscripts) wince and stumble, blinded by blown
blood and squalls of searing sand . . . The desert wind taunts you true
believers; your visions of conquest evaporate, as the pitiless sun
glares down upon the folly of yet another legion of hubristic Crusaders,
who came to free the heathen hordes from their brutish ignorance by way
of relieving them of the confusing burden of their untapped wealth.
Of course, the only small recompense you ask from these monumental
ingrates is unfettered access to their oil. And the only reason for that
is a purpose as exalted as yours requires a great amount of energy to
sustain its radiant glory; such a selfless enterprise of holiness
demands a few rewards for the long suffering Christian martyrs on the
home front-because American's God-kissed flocks of pious consumers must
be permitted to sit, in perpetuity, high above the roadways of the land,
serene within their oversized pick-up trucks, SUVs, and RVs-their junk
food-bloated countenances must never be darkened by want, doubt, nor
self-reproach.
In accordance with this self-referential lunacy, you sermonized that
Satan's earthly emissaries, such as Hugo Ch�vez, should be righteously
slaughtered because they and their ilk scheme to deprive American
drivers of their God-given right to the oil, which, inconveniently,
happens to be located beneath lands belonging to inconsequential people.
Those brown-skin, oil hoarding wretches, down in Venezuela and their
false idol-clutching counterparts in Iraq, Iran, and Syria, must be
taught that God, seated upon his golden throne, scorns the sight of
their iniquitous ways. The Kingdom of the Lord stands before us, you
proclaim. If we listen closely, we can hear the voice of God above as he
counts his money. Furthermore, the era of George W. Bush has brought a
new revelation: If America's plutocratic class had even more blood
money, then the Baby Jesus would smile.
The Reverend Pat Robertson, Mary Fowler-and every last one of you
Apostles of Perpetual Psychosis-listen up. Given the self-evident fact
that your beliefs bring little relief to your own troubled souls and
have, on the whole, served to engender tragedy worldwide, don't you
think it's time you gave it a rest for awhile. In other words, this is a
polite way of suggesting to you that you shut your pie-in-the-sky hole
and take stock of the things you're saying, because your utterances are
becoming sicker and sadder, by the hour.
If not, you could, at least, in the words, of Tom Waits, "Come down off
the cross-we can use the wood.""
"*Listen up, you Christo-Fascist bullies, you Apostles of
Perpetual Psychosis, it's high time somebody called you out*
By Phil Rockstroh
Online Journal Contributing Writer
8-30-5
"If he [Hugo Ch�vez] thinks we're trying to assassinate him, I think
that we really ought to go ahead and do it. It's a whole lot cheaper
than starting a war. And I don't think any oil shipments will stop."-Pat
Robertson
"Muslims want to rule the world. They want to take over the whole world.
That's their evil purpose . . . Most of them are very harsh. There's no
tenderness or love."
Question asked by Rose Aguila: "Where do you get your information about
the war?" Answer of Mary Fowler, 54, Oklahoma housekeeper: "The Bible
and the 700 Club. I also listen to preachers who know what's going on.
Pat Robertson."-Excerpted from Rose Aguila's blog, Stories in America:
Conversations at the Gas Pump
http://storiesinamerica.blogspot.com/2005/08/
conversations-at-gas-pump.html
<http://storiesinamerica.blogspot.com/2005/08/conversations-at-gas-pump.html>
Listen up, Reverend Robertson, Mary Fowler and every last one of you
Apostles of Perpetual Psychosis, it's time that you were called out.
The time is long past due the rest of us ceased our cowering and stood
up to you Christo-fascists bullies. The hour has come round that we look
you straight in your bulging, true believer eyes, and told you that
we've had it with your smugness, with your blood-drenched crusades, with
your victim mentality-and with the madness begot by this cracked-brain
belief system of yours, which all began (according to your sacred
delusions) more than 2,000 years ago, when, at the behest of a wicked
cabal, a mob of mammon-worshipping, blood-lusting rabble went on a
cosmic killing-spree and murdered your god.
First off, let's get one thing straight: No one ever killed anyone's god
(not Jews, nor Romans, nor Geeks playing Dungeons and Dragons)-although
it's time somebody nailed you, you collection of conflated failures at
Christian martyrdom, to a metaphysical cross of reality.
It's high time someone told you outright that you must be suffering from
holy water on the brain, if you think we can't see you for what you are:
a klavern of counterfeit prophets waxing psychotic for other cretinous
hypocrites. Also, you can cease playing the persecuted party, whenever
someone stands up to you, because we're no longer buying that ploy.
Remember, you're the ones who threw the first epitaphic stones. It was
you who labeled us a mob of Hell-bound, Satan-pimping sodomists . . .
Although-as much fun as that sounds-I must ask you, where do you get the
unmitigated gall to make such insane claims? When did the golden light
of the sun abandon its position in the eastern horizon and begin rising,
each morning, from out of your silly, neo-Iron Age asses?
And tell me this, you medievalist simps, you delusional, retrograde
dip-shits, how is it possible that you became privy to such timeless
truths-that the mind of the "One True God" is available to you, and that
God's words and wishes resonate through yawning millennia to be
understood only by you and you alone?
Looking back on the rise of you Christo-fascist bastards, I'm mortified
as to how it came to be socially and politically acceptable for you to
bandy such vicious and demented assertions in the public arena, without
them meeting with the derision they deserve . . . And don't bother going
into one of your pat victim-swoons over being called on it, because when
you go so far as to claim that you alone have been bestowed with the
secrets of boundless creation-and that anyone who chooses not to buy
into your version of events will be condemned to the torments of eternal
damnation-then you can bet your fatuous asses that your asinine
assertions will be ridiculed. What in the blue blazes did you expect,
for us simply to fall to our collective knees before you?
Yet, I fear that's exactly what you expect from us.
Could I suggest an alternative idea? Would you simply let the rest of us
be? Would it be possible for you to keep your life-defying delusions to
yourself-keep them within the airless confines of your bigotry-riddled
churches and the cramped quarters of your own minds?
If that's the way you choose to spend the passing hours of this finite
life, it's fine by me. But when you start your habitual proselytizing,
then you should be prepared to be told that a great many of us think
your cosmological conceptions are a steaming pile of elephant dung.
And, while we're on the subject, for the longest time, I've been wanting
to tell you this: If Jesus died for my pathetic sins, then he flat-out
overreacted.
What makes this situation all the more unsettling is you believe these
creepy, death-enamored myths are literally true. Instead, I suggest you
try the following: Rather than attempting to commune with Jesus, the
Virgin Mary, the Holy Ghost (or Casper the Friendly Ghost) or the Lucky
Charms Leprechaun, why don't you attempt to channel the departed spirits
of Voltaire or H.L. Mencken? There will be no otherworldly conjuring (or
con jobs) required to perform this miracle: simply go to the public
library and check out their books.
Once there, you might want to stop by the science section, as well,
where you could happen upon a few delusion-decimating tidbits such as
the following: While your bible tells you that the earth is a shade over
7,000 thousand years old, the actual figure is (approximately) 4.6
billion years. How do you account for the slight discrepancy of say . .
. 4,599,993,000 years? And that number is derived when calculated
against the approximated age of the earth-not that of the universe,
which is estimated to be between 10 to 20 billion years old. You can do
the math on that one, all you reality-challenged Children of the Lord.
And those aren't the only things in your bible that just don't add up.
In your Book of Joshua (10:13) it is stated that God commanded the sun
to stand still in the sky . . . Really now? Pardon me . . . but how is
it possible that this omniscient god of yours, whom you believe created
the earth and heavens, all by his divine lonesome, didn't realize the
simple fact that the sun doesn't revolve around the earth?
Furthermore, he was apparently ignorant of numerous smaller details as
well, such as, where in Matthew (13: 32) he identified mustard seeds as
"[ . . . ] the smallest of seeds." How can it be that the creator of the
universe could have had such an embarrassing lapse of basic knowledge on
the subject of botany?
And what about the many other lapses in logic (flights of fantasy that
are insane by any standard, with the exception of the sublime logic
found in the realm of cartoons), such as the one about the fellow who
survived, for three days and three nights, in the stomach of a monstrous
fish (Jonah 1:17)-and what was up with that wacky, talking donkey in
Numbers (22:28)? We're in Looney Tunes territory now, all you highly
suggestible Idiots of God. Plus, in a cartoon universe, such as the one
described in the Book of Exodus, why didn't the Almighty, instead of
leveling plagues and pestilence upon the guilty and innocent alike in
Egypt, simply, drop an ACME anvil down from heaven on the head of
Pharaoh and be done with it?
Which brings up the subject of the deplorable cruelty of your deity of
choice. Ergo, isn't this a lovely little passage from Deuteronomy
(32:23-25)? "I will spend mine arrows upon them . . . The sword without,
and terror within, shall destroy both the young man and the virgin, the
suckling also with the man of gray hairs."
Then there is this lovely bit of divinely inspired baby-killing and
faith-based rape from Isaiah (13:9,15-18): "Behold, the day of the Lord
cometh, cruel both with wrath and fierce anger . . . Every one that is
found shall be thrust through . . . Their children also shall be dashed
to pieces before their eyes . . . and their wives ravished. Behold, I
will stir up the Medes against them. . . . [T]hey shall have no pity on
the fruit of the womb; their eye shall not spare children."
Worse, your striving to make these pathological ravings manifest have
resulted in tragic consequences. As is the case with your current,
genocidal adventure in Iraq, where you believed the vengeful ghosts of
the Crusades could be dispatched, dissolved in the beatific light
flaring from the bombs that your holy (armchair) warrior, commander and
chief ordered dropped from Kabul to Bagdad . . . In your madness, you
believed you could make the citadels of the New Jerusalem manifest in
Mesopotamia. Upon every bomb detonation, you were certain that the
heathen hordes cowered before your righteous fury, that ghost and demon
would flee back to Hell, and the wicked would tremble before your sacred
fury. Now, of course, that all worked out just like you saw it in your
head beforehand, didn't it?
As we speak, your Armies of the Lord (who more closely reassemble a
collection of economic conscripts) wince and stumble, blinded by blown
blood and squalls of searing sand . . . The desert wind taunts you true
believers; your visions of conquest evaporate, as the pitiless sun
glares down upon the folly of yet another legion of hubristic Crusaders,
who came to free the heathen hordes from their brutish ignorance by way
of relieving them of the confusing burden of their untapped wealth.
Of course, the only small recompense you ask from these monumental
ingrates is unfettered access to their oil. And the only reason for that
is a purpose as exalted as yours requires a great amount of energy to
sustain its radiant glory; such a selfless enterprise of holiness
demands a few rewards for the long suffering Christian martyrs on the
home front-because American's God-kissed flocks of pious consumers must
be permitted to sit, in perpetuity, high above the roadways of the land,
serene within their oversized pick-up trucks, SUVs, and RVs-their junk
food-bloated countenances must never be darkened by want, doubt, nor
self-reproach.
In accordance with this self-referential lunacy, you sermonized that
Satan's earthly emissaries, such as Hugo Ch�vez, should be righteously
slaughtered because they and their ilk scheme to deprive American
drivers of their God-given right to the oil, which, inconveniently,
happens to be located beneath lands belonging to inconsequential people.
Those brown-skin, oil hoarding wretches, down in Venezuela and their
false idol-clutching counterparts in Iraq, Iran, and Syria, must be
taught that God, seated upon his golden throne, scorns the sight of
their iniquitous ways. The Kingdom of the Lord stands before us, you
proclaim. If we listen closely, we can hear the voice of God above as he
counts his money. Furthermore, the era of George W. Bush has brought a
new revelation: If America's plutocratic class had even more blood
money, then the Baby Jesus would smile.
The Reverend Pat Robertson, Mary Fowler-and every last one of you
Apostles of Perpetual Psychosis-listen up. Given the self-evident fact
that your beliefs bring little relief to your own troubled souls and
have, on the whole, served to engender tragedy worldwide, don't you
think it's time you gave it a rest for awhile. In other words, this is a
polite way of suggesting to you that you shut your pie-in-the-sky hole
and take stock of the things you're saying, because your utterances are
becoming sicker and sadder, by the hour.
If not, you could, at least, in the words, of Tom Waits, "Come down off
the cross-we can use the wood.""
