"...and we'll have reaction from around the world to this historic election." CNN 23:12 CET. Oh my belt and braces. Historic, already. Tit. And that hot on the heels of, "...and watching the chimney with us this afternoon is..."
Well, they can have my historic reaction from this historic part of the historic world. As far as I'm concerned, there's only one thing worse than a dead pope...oh my. More dots. I think I might make so bold as to trust anybody familiar with my historic prejudices or even those stumbling across this blog for the first historic time to fill in the historic gap for their no doubt historic selves but, should you need more thinking time, please avail yourselves of these dits -------.
Fully ditted out? Good. Then I'll proceed. It would seem that some goodly, if not godly, number of cardinals clad in several and numerous layers of what appears to be voluminous and not inexpensive cloth have chosen an even more expensively upholstered and bejewelled article to be the spiritual leader of the poor and downtrodden masses of the favellas. And the bugger's German. I can only hope his first trip abroad doesn't take in Belgium. Oooops. Do you think I got away with that? Genuflect...2...3...4, confess...2...3...4, breed...2...3...4. No chance of that one slipping through the net though, is there? Good. I can keep old JP II company on the spit. Benedict the how many? Should have called himself Innocent 10 to the power what have you and come clean. "Hey, guys. It's all been one big joke. We've been having you on for two and a bit millennia. April fool."
There is a sound akin to that of 3 and a half million flies unzipping. It is a tear in the space time continuum and we flash to sub-Saharan Africa where the Messiah, for it is he, is doing his loaves and fishes bit with five 3-packs of Durex extra strength and a small jar of spermicidal lube.
ZZIIIIIIIIPPPPPPP...and we're on the embankment where he's transforming the comestibles into something eminently more drinkable and collecting and rolling up unsold copies of the Big Issue, extending Blair's fundamental orifice for the use of. ZZIIIIIIIIPPPPPPP...and it's off to Rio where he's handing out the Kalashnikovs. Christ. Have things really come to such a pass that even he has given up on the 'Thou shalt not kill'? ZZIIIIIIIIPPPPPPP...into the papal apartments where he removes the business end of the papal staff from the bloody and by now distended papal anus crying, "That was not the point. This is the point." and reinserts it, sharp end first. ZZIIIIIIIIPPPPPPP...the White House, where he will be busy for quite some time.
I'm fucking fed up. I reckon there ain't no such thing as a bad religion, unless of course you count Zooastrianism and even that might possibly turn out to be okay should ever I be arsed actually to find out something about it, but there sure as hell ain't any good Churches. You will, it is my fervent hope, notice the use of the capital there. There's a church on the hill of West Keal that I find extremely edifying and the vicar thereof, a most personable gentleman. But that's just it, I guess. You can find individual members of any religious organisation to be spiritual and devoted, but the organisation itself exists solely to promote itself and to extend its power.
Maybe it's the repressed Anglican in me but for sheer cant and hypocrisy, the Catholic Church remains unequalled throughout historic history. How any organisation, historic or otherwise, supposedly concerned with the spiritual welfare of humanity can remain so aloof from and ignorant of the human condition is something I will forever fail to quite successfully grasp. Do you remember the furore engendered amongst all Christian Churches (one of the very few occasions when they have ever been able to present a united front to just about anything) by Martin Scorcese's 'Last Temptation of Christ'? As I understood it, the item under advisement and which caused theological eruptions in their undergarments was a scene in which Christ was depicted fantasising about just what it might be like to roger the bejazus out of Mary Magdalene. Phone lines were jammed all over talk show land apparently. Now, notwithstanding the fact that 99% of all callers to radio shows could automatically be committed under section whatever of the Mental Health Act (and face it, when did any of us, you know...US...the rational, right thinking, none-pence short of a shilling us ever call in to a radio programme to express our satisfaction at anything broadcast over the wireless telegraphy or portrayed by the wonders of cinematography?), their arguments, if such they can be termed, were bobbins of the highest order.
Now please correct me if I'm wrong but, as I understand it, Christians would have it that God sent his only begotten son down to Earth to fully experience the human condition. No longer could we rant and rail and bewail the fact that he, aloof and on high in his God-dom, just didn't understand quite what it was like to be human. Well, I reckon he must have failed in his remit if he neglected to investigate exactly what it was about the female genitalia that informed 95% of the waking hour thoughts and 99% of the motivation of any heterosexual adolescent or adult male. Bit of an oversight, wouldn't you say? That the other 5 and 1% respectively are taken up with thoughts of football, fast cars, motorcycles and devising new and improved ways of killing the fuck out of each other is a design feature that even the most radical church has yet to even partially explain. I think I should perhaps make it clear at this point that Roger B is a genetic aberration. A spot mutation. A quantum leap into homo (really, honest, quite the veritas) sapiens. Only with regard to the 5 and 1% though. The rest, I stick with, adhere to and even, stand by.
It is also part of the human condition, our hard wiring if you like, and as evinced by this rant, to hate what we do not understand. And quite how a celibate priesthood can ever hope to understand women is quite beyond the capacity of my thinking organ (not always my cock, dear hearts) to wrap itself around. Religion seeks to control and, as the male body is to them uncontrollable, it seeks to impose its will on that of the female. Their fertility is the will of god, their role to produce more souls to glorify His name. And all this bollocks about the rhythm method and withdrawal. Let me see if I've got this right...condoms are satanic and just another form of abortion...sex is for procreation purposes only, except for those days where there is no discernible rise in body temperature...spilling one's seed on the ground is a sin but using it to fill up one's partner's navel cavity is okay...fuck off.
What is it with me? The older I get, the more liberal I become. In the sense of individual freedom and responsibility that is. Quite how I can hope to balance that against the following soi-disant reactionary viewpoints and possible subjects of future drunken blogs, I have nary a clue. But for your perusal, I present, quite unlike a Scary Thursday vote-O for I promise wholeheartedly to ignore any individual requests, especially from those of my students who hope to gain special favour by dropping the content of my blogs into English conversation classes and excepting those from Jess of course but she will always be a special case and someone for whom it will always be my especial pleasure to bend over backwards (and forwards and sideways come to that), these randomly selected opinions.
Gays and females in the military. No.
Gay marriage. No.
Parent teacher associations. No.
Political correctness. It depends, but on the whole, no.
Identity cards. Fuck the fuckity fuck right off.
Goodnight, sweet readers, and may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.