Tuesday, November 22, 2016

The Work Begins...

Things are getting busier, My Beloved Sinners. Not a moment passes but a new face doesn’t join us at The Trough. As this happy snap shows, life's a laugh a minute as some of the finest men ever to have evaded prosecution gather together to wallow in preparation for the momentously profitable task of making America grate again.

Yet in your foolish naivety please don't forget My Work here is first and foremost about Ministry. Many of you at Facebook have been asking about my role at President-Elect-For-Life Trump's upcoming inauguration, and you will all be delighted to know that I am at last in a position to reveal a few of the exciting details.

You see, My Poor Unbelievers, that the separation of Church and state comprises a cornerstone of the Holy U.S. Constitution, which was given to our Christian Nation directly by God. Consequently it is impossible to over-emphasize the importance Religion plays in this most sacred of event. Christmas, Holy Week, The Super Bowl - certainly all these traditional amusements of the liturgical calendar have their place, but Inauguration Day is when Believers can truly stand tall and give thanks for that which We are about to receive. And to Me - yes, to your Wise Father-in-the-Faith Rev. Dr. Troll - has fallen the immeasurable honor of preparing little Donny for his Day of Anointing.

Between you and Me, however, I must say that this is proving to be a far from straightforward task. Far be it from Me to call Our Dear Leader a spiritual ignoramus, but let's just say that preparing a room of gibbons for their First Communion would be an easier task. It's not as if Donny isn't religious in his own way, and there's nothing wrong with using prayer as an opportunity to enjoy delivering a twenty minute uninterrupted monologue about oneself (after all - isn't that what Evangelicals have always done?), but opening one's devotions with "Oh Holy and Everlasting Me" hasn't really had much theological traction since Jim Jones starting stockpiling kool-aid.

Which is not to say Donny isn't excited about the ceremony. Certainly he was disappointed there wouldn't be an execution, and we've quietly canned the bikini parade, but once he was promised there'd be no shortage of people to grab by the genitalia once the boring stuff is over he settled down again and lost interest. Although having Bishop Quinine wave something shiny and sparkling in the corner of the room helped  - it's a trick I believe more moderate members of the GOP (now there's an expression you haven't heard for a long time!) are already using regularly.

As with any hyper-active narcissistic sociopath. teaching - like maintaining good bowel health - involves regularity. The emphasis has to be on crumbs of information being repetitively provided on a regular basis. To this end I'm proud to say the President-Elect-For-Life has been starting every day with My leading him through a short Bible study. (I'd planned on registering this program as a whole new incorporated entity called "Morning Glory Ministries" but found there's already a group in Florida by this name. Who seem very nice, even if they are living proof that there still are Christians living in an irony-free zone.) So far it's not going too badly, just as long as we stay away from any passages involving smiting, and I always give him some crayons and a picture of himself to color in.
Although I am getting worried: there's a passage on Solomon coming up soon in the Lectionary, and I'm not sure the House will be too impressed when Air Force One is seconded to start importing another 699 wives and 300 concubines.

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

"Let's be careful out there."

Those of you who can remember a time when everyone's biggest fear was Reagan should also be able to recall an NBC program by the name of Hill Street Blues. Set in a fictional inner-city police precinct, it was strangely enjoyable despite featuring an array of foreigners who avoided gratuitous violence and consistently declined to shoot persons of color for no valid reason. And each episode of the first 3½ seasons opened with an address from veteran cop Sgt. Phil Esterhaus (Michael Conrad) which ended like this:

And so why, My Beloved Sinners, am I sharing this with you? Let's put it this way: whilst I love our President-Elect-For-Life as much as everyone else (albeit a little differently, and with less desperation, than whichever Ukrainian aspiring super-model he happens to be "interviewing" this week) there's no denying a lot of my new best friends and colleagues at the trough are - how shall I put it? - a little unstable. In fact a lot of them are batshit crazy, and they're nazis. And they have a strange compensatory fixation upon firearms.

Which is all fine and dandy, I can hear you say: it's not as if you encounter anything different every time you visit your local Walmart or monster-truck competition. But this time there's a difference - they're now about to start giving orders to the police. And the military. And the Department of Homeland security. And all those strange-looking nervous types you see in movies cracking computer codes and hacking emails. Not of course that any high-level email servers have ever been breached for personal and/or political profit in real life - but you never know.

Consequently My Wise old Pastoral Heart can't help sharing a little advice with you, My precious young and foolish flock. After all, I didn't make millions selling Siberian wastelands I didn't own to dear little Joe Stalin back in the late 20s in order that he might build gulags by being careless. And when I convinced jittery young Adolf to purchase a Berlin bunker in which "no harm will ever be able to come to you here, mein F├╝hrer" you'd better believe I was watching every step. Success in ministry involves caution in ministry - just ask any Rector who has led public prayers for the immediate & painful passing of that person on their Parish Council.

That's why if you look closely you may well find my homilies and Facebook edification Facebook edification being posted via servers in places as diverse as the Netherlands, Corfu, or the Chatham Islands. Because in times like these a little preventative caution can go a long way if and when a knock on the door should mistakenly come in the night. Call me overly-dramatic if you wish, but when Papa Doc's Tonton Macoute called by the Haitian resort at which I was ministering in '64 it wasn't my tanning butter that was spilled. In fact the machetes never touched so much as a parasol in any of my complimentary drinks. But that's because I was careful.

My advice, dear sinners, is for you to do likewise. Just because you're going to spend an eternity in Hell is hardly reason enough to let someone with an imported Taser and a "Buy American or Leave!" bumper sticker give you a foretaste now. Just sayin'.

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Monday, November 14, 2016

If you don't fight, you lose.

As all My Dearly Beloved Sinful Friends on Facebook know, the golden age of carpetbaggery is once more upon us. Only this time the greenback road leads north to Washington, and everywhere you look campaigners against taxation and government spending like Myself are rushing to ensure themselves a prime position at the trough when the milk of federal pork-barreling trumps forth.

But please don't ever for one moment think Our Righteous Privilege is something to be taken for granted. My less righteous brethren who have thoughtfully bared this breast upon which we are about to sup - and I'm thinking here especially of My Evangelical Admirers, of which there are too many to bother counting once the polls closed - need to be eternally vigilant lest the manna which has been rightfully showered upon their superiors be taken away.

Which is why instead of My planned homily I'm diverting to urge you all to take action immediately! That's right, instead of wasting your time doing something which brings you joy and comfort, like gazing adoringly at My picture, or beating your dachshund while dressing up like James Dobson, I need you all to act.

You see, as I'm sure those of you who can read  - even the women - are well aware Our Dear Leader President-Elect-For-Life Donny has just appointed little Stephen Bannon to a permanent White House play-date. Which means the whiskery round white-supremacist, anti-semitic, misogynist alt-right pinup pictured below shall soon not only be clogging the Oval Office plumbing if and when he ever decides to partake of a little facial debridement, but we'll all be paying him for the privilege.

"And why not?" I hear you as christians (albeit very immature and faithless ones) ask. To which I can in My wisdom only reply "Why not indeed!" But we have a problem. Liberals, Homosexualists, Womon who don't know their place, as well as those who foolishly thing Jesus and the Gospels have something to do with Christianity, are threatening to spoil thing for the Klan's Krazy Komrade.

In fact, I know for a fact that people haven't forgotten Zoe Baird and Kimba Wood; Bill Clinton's two AG appointments who were made to withdraw for failing to pay Social Security taxes. And thanks to this memory they're also impertinent enough to assume Banner's fist-class ticket to the racism's big rock candy mountain isn't a done deal.

That's right - they've been organising. (Forgive My using profanity, but when you come to Me you get Bible Teaching straighter than Liberace in a steam-bath.) Quite shamelessly, I've heard people who don't understand the importance of key roles being gratuitously given to bigoted Princes-of-Ugly are:
  •  Calling all their Representatives and Senators and telling them this is unacceptable.
  •  Preventing Paul Ryan from feigning ignorance by calling his office at (202) 225-3031 and letting him know that this is not ok. 
  • Same with Majority Leader McConnell, (202) 224-2541. 
  • Call out media when they report the Bannon appointment as a straight news story or refer to him as a "Breitbart executive" or a "provocateur," but don't call him what he is: a white supremacist, anti-semite, misogynist.
  • Where protests are ongoing, they make this the focus, with signs, chants, etc. Next week they'll focus attention on other things, but for now their focusing like lasers on this one fact. 
  •  Getting so-called religious groups on board along with mainstream business organisations like the Chamber of Commerce (202-659-6000). 
  • Contacting other people of influence - College presidents, high-profile coaches and anyone else who has a public megaphone.
So, My Beloved Sinners, I'm calling on you to all do the opposite. Call Paul Ryan and tell him your proud he's supporting a supremacist carpetbagger. Thank your representative for getting behind a money-sucking Nazi, and reassure them you'll be letting everyone know of their support. Print pictures of Bannon with Hitler, so nobody can confuse the two. Carry banners of him in a Klan Klown suit, so everyone can see how handsomely it suits him.

In every way possible, let's beat the godless at their own game. I've no doubt Representatives and Senators everywhere will be delighted know you support them - especially those who are female and/or Jewish and call themselves a Republican. (Don't worry - they'll soon be purged just as long as Bannon isn't stopped.)

Meanwhile please nobody try and tell me that Jesus wouldn't have built a wall or picked on people who don't speak American - the language the Bible was written in. Sure he was the Son of God and stuff, but we all know what happened to Him. And he didn't even have a LeerJet!

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

Back to Make America Grate Again!


That's right My Faithful Evildoers - I'm Back!!!

Of course those of you who truly are Bible-Believing Christians will know that as a result of a small inconsequential mistake Bishop Quinine and I have spent the past few years in witness protection, but by the grace of all that is precious in holy scripture those days are over!!!

That's right! Naturally the godless liberal media didn't report this (probably on account of them all being terrified of their imminent imprisonment and public execution), but the most important thing discussed yesterday between so-called president obama and President-Elect-For-Life Trump (or as Consuella's former colleagues know him professionally, "Little Donny") was the clearance of all the silly misunderstandings which led to My undergoing a slight detour in the nature of My Ministry.

What's more, thanks to Little Donny stopping government waste and wanton spending I've received a federal grant large enough to keep a TV evangelist in cocaine and lady-boys for centuries - purely for the purpose of upgrading my ministry and internet presence. Naturally my first priority is to blow a large slab of this on upgrading the old St. Onuphrius Rectory (when little Donny and whatever-her-name-is-this-week drop buy you can't really expect them to perform their ablutions in an ensuite that isn't gold-plated, can you?), but as soon as this is sorted there'll be more than a few crumbs coming your way to edify your pathetic godless existences. And believe me, we're all gonna have a party in the process!

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible!

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Bob Duncan: Only Quitters Quit.

"They're not eyebrows - they're antennae of orthodoxy." 

 As I write these Words of inestimable wisdom, My Beloved Sinners, the Anglican Church of North America (“ACNA” or, as Bible-believing Conservative Leaders like Myself refer to it in technical theological terminology, “Little Bobby Duncan’s Sect”) is gathering to fulfill its sacred duty of picking someone to take the next turn at wearing their funny faux capo di tutti capi hat.

Obviously I have a great many opinions as to who should succeed our boy with the ‘brows, but before we come to that let us together dwell upon how deeply disappointing it is to see little Bobby quitting. After all, you don’t see god stepping down just because he’d like to get in a little more golf and spend Friday nights playing swing low sweet chariot with his pole-dancers’ fellowship. So whatever gave the world’s funniest pretend-prelate the idea that it’s ok for him??!! Or have you ever heard Jesus whining that someone else needs to have a turn at being lord and savior! No Sir! Being an Orthodox Biblical Leader is like being a dictator, or maybe the spokesman for an association of pro-gun wingnuts: having once scaled the dizzy heights to which one has been called you stay there until they prize whatever it is you’re grasping from your cold dead hands.

No, My Dearly Beloved Evildoers, there’s no denying that I’m disappointed in Bobby Duncan. I know he’s gained his sect full recognition as an Anglican province, brought every man, woman, and child, in the entire U.S.A. into a personal loving relationship with the heavenly father who will torture them for eternity, and set straight every man who’s ever thought Glee is “kinda fun”, but when you attain My degree of spiritual maturity (which you won’t, for the perfectly obvious reason that god loves Me more) you’ll realize that sort of thing is just part of doing one’s job.

Real Conservative Leadership involves holding onto power no matter who tries to snatch it away, and I’m afraid that in quitting Bobby has shown himself to be at heart just another Liberal. Although, to be fair, I have heard that there’s only so many knives a man can take in his back before taking on a kind of waxy appearance. At least we can all take heart in the fact that Bobby’s successor won’t be democratically elected by means of any fair and transparent process in which representatives of all church members (including, god forbid laymen) are entitled to vote, but will rather be “discerned” by the multitude of ACNA “bishops”.* Which I’ll admit, certainlys show ACNA’s relevance: nothing says “21st century Conservatism” like oligarchy.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

*In retrosp I may have at this point failed to take into account ACNA’s core doctrine of the Prelacy of all believers. Given this and their consequent enthusiasm for consecrating Bishops I’m not sure if they actually even have any members not entitled to parade in purple and a pectoral cross.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

How I've Spent My Sabbatical.

I’m well aware, My Beloved Sinners, that it has indeed been a terribly long time since I last Blessed any of you with My vitally important Words of Wisdom. Even so, I’m sure that even those of you home-schooled by Evangelicals will have been able to discern that I have been incredibly busy with matters far more important than the tedious task of ministering to those with whose care I have been entrusted by god.

Indeed, even the most fleeting of glances at the many recent public-relations victories of the Archbishop of Canterbury, little Justin Welby, reveals the crucial advisory capacity I have been undertaking at Anglicanism’s highest echelons. That’s right: after foolishly attacking an upright and perfectly-ethical business in which his church just happened to have invested a paltry £75,000 (that’s about $127,215.00 in Christian money: an amount so small it wouldn’t even keep Layman Jack Iker in man-lace for a season – which sheds some perspective as to what a tornado-in-a-teacup the godless liberals raised over this) Little Justin’s minders came to My Rectory Door on bended knees, much to the delight of Bishop Quinine, who as a Prelate cannot help but inevitably misread the intentions of others.

Naturally My first inclination was to turn them away: it seems like only yesterday that young Thomas a’Beckett showed Me all too well how incompetent Archbishops are when it comes to heeding My counsel. Still, when His Grace’s envoys revealed the plain brown paper bags of used unmarked currency accompanying them as an indication of their integrity the quiet still voice of the spirit began sounding more like a cross between Grover Norquist and the homeless alcoholic who stands outside our local mall every Saturday morning and screams something about shape-shifting spiders stealing his last bottle of Thunderbird. And so obviously as a Man of Faith I had no option but to accept their pleas for help.

Of course you all know by now that my piece of first advice to the most morally-consistent Etononian since Guy Burgess and Lord Lucan was followed to the letter. Little Tory Baucum – an ACNA luminary even the folks at Viagraville couldn’t bring themselves to trust completely - was appointed to sit in a beautifully-upholstered chair at Canterbury Cathedral. In a moment Godless Liberals and their traditional sparring-partners were united in a way not seen since the time I restored order to a Vestry Meeting by firing up a chainsaw and severing several Wardens’ limbs.

More recent media outings have seen My boy abandon the concise logic which in the business world enabled him to buy a charming holiday house in France (scroll to the bottom of the page here for the sort of rambling confusion only an Archbishop can deliver. Words can’t convey the pride I felt when JW (tell me it’s only coincidence that his initials are the same as those of a notoriously anti-intellectual cult) answered the question “You've said the issue of same-sex marriage is a complex one that you wrestle with every day and often in the middle of the night…” with “I have about a million questions. I think really I've said as much as I want to on that subject” (source)

Exactly as Jesus would have put it. Or maybe not.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Monday, January 6, 2014

The Epiphany - an Exegetical Exposition.

The Feat of the Epiphany is a puzzling time, My Beloved Sinners, even for One as Learned and Righteous as Myself. Nor all does this terrible cold weather help things: chilblains serve little benefit when it comes to addressing the great mysteries of Biblical Theology, and whilst there is no denying a good snow blower will always be an integral part of any exegetically-sound sermon preparation kit, sometimes one can’t help noticing that those churches with the most altar-bling are concentrated near the equator. Where the only salt you’ll ever find spread on the road got there as result of someone’s hands getting shaky while making one too many margaritas.

Still, a Clergyman has got to serve where he’s been called irrespective of the weather (at least until he gets lucky in his search for somewhere better), and helping you all understand what was going on when Jesus’ parents permitted foreigners with a penchant for astrology to offer their child such a mixed array of gifts isn’t going to be made any easier by My complaining about the cold. So without further ado I’ve instructed My Ministry Team to venture outside and fetch more wood for the fireplace while I address the Greatest Problem affecting Contemporary Christianity today: what was going when Melchior, Balthazar, and Caspar came to pay their respects?

The first thing we need to ask is “What’s with their choice of presents?” Gold is obvious: even if the price has recently weakened a little, at $1,238.40 an ounce we can all understand why that particular star-gazing sand-pilgrim wasn’t immediately thrown out on his ear. But frankincense? Myrrh? Who gives new-born babies that kind of gloop? If they’d been serious about wanting Our Lord to smell better while simultaneously casting a nice oily sheen upon all those around Him the least they could have given is Old Spice and a jar of tanning butter. But myrrh doesn’t even have a vowel in its name – what possible good would that have been to poor Mary? And have you ever tried taking frankincense back to Walmart without a receipt? I have, and let Me tell you it wasn’t a “save money, live better” experience. Although being a Christian company they do sell firearms, so in the end we were able to negotiate an exchange instead of a refund, and at least I was as a sportsman able to go home with something capable of killing people for purely recreational purposes.

The key to understanding what happened here in Bethlehem lays in the fact that the Bible specifically doesn’t tell us what Joseph was up to at the time. Which forces us to ask what kind of man would be out of the house/manger while three foreign men (who almost certainly all had beards) traipsed around over the avocado & harvest gold shag-pile, sycophantically paying their obeisances to his teenage bride and her infant? That’s right – one who knows he’s not the father! What the Bible is really telling us here is that Joseph was wise to the fact that the "Y" portion of Baby Jesus' incarnate chromosomes came from God!

As everyone knows caring for someone else’s children is a wonderful thing on account of all the child support payments you can spend. But when that child’s father is God – owner of the cattle on a thousand hills etc. – Joseph was in line for a serious check heading his way each month. He wasn’t just looking at the usual windfall guys in his position can score, like enough to pick up some sweet wheels on eBay for the ’74 Mustang II that’s been sitting on blocks in the yard for the past three years while he gets around to restoring it. No sir, Joseph knew he was looking at the real thing – say a ’68 Dodge Charger just like the one Bo and Luke drove in The Dukes of Hazard. Except with the 8-track upgraded into something that allows you to play music illegally downloaded from the internet.

Once you understand who Jesus’ real father was the whole event we celebrate today as the Epiphany makes perfect sense. Joseph, like any man in his position, was out celebrating his good fortune with his buddies, and freelance religious fringe-dwellers were doing what they’ve always done: offering inappropriate gifts in the course of their search for God. Jesus and His Mother’s next visitor may just have been trying to sell discount aluminum cladding (“Ever thought of giving this manger a real face-lift you can be proud of?”) but you’d better believe the one after that was someone wanting to complain about how the weird foreign guys were lowering the tone of the whole neighborhood (“And another thing: those camels they tied up outside have kicked down my letterbox, not to mention how bad all that yellow snow is going to smell when things start warming up again!”). But what could anyone expect? Pretty much the next thing we hear of the Holy Family is that they’ve become refugees, which possibly means the three wise men’s presents weren’t that impractical after all. Because carrying something more age-appropriate and essential like a Hoppy-Days Baby Bouncer is kind of hard when you’re fleeing for your life.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.