Magic mirror on the wall…

… who’s the most virtuous blogger of them all?

I’m deeply indebted to Lifting the Rock for pointing me in the direction of the funniest Viagraville thread ever. Words can’t do justice to the comedy of Conservatism’s favorite poisonous dwarves tearing into each other like Baptist Jello wrestlers on crank.

If you haven’t already seen the fun head on over to Lifting the Rock for the background to Melanie, Matt, and What’s-her-name’s cute collective tantrum before checking out the action for yourself at Viagraville. They've closed the thread to any further comments, and Melanie's undoubtedly hoping it quickly sinks from view - but if enough people link to it one of orthodoxy's proudest moments should remain cached by Google for some time to come - maybe even long enough for everyone to stop laughing.

Meanwhile I’ve also been enjoying some of my own fun here, where the comments field at the bottom of this homily from several months back has been revitalized by a charming little sock-puppet called "Brad Evans". Arriving with a delightfully nasty homophobic streak, when his initial question wasn't answered in a way that reaffirmed his bigoted insecurities he then turned to play the aggrieved-atheist:

"Since I don't believe in any higher power, I thought I'd address my question to someone who's in the profession and who might actually answer it without being evasive or condescending"

Which I’m sure you’ll agree is a perfectly reasonable expectation to have when writing to someone calling himself “The Reverend Doctor Christian Troll”. After all, everyone knows Father Christian is never condescending when teaching the Bible to idiots.

Now that the party's over...

Well I’m home again in Ichabod Springs, and things are finally getting back to normal after all the excitement of the G20 summit. Naturally the assembled world leaders were extremely impressed by my presentation, and I’ve no doubt that during their eternal future in the fires of Hell they‘ll look back fondly upon the Words of Wisdom I so generously imparted.

However one concern I must share with you all was that the world’s most blessed and prosperous nations – namely Nigeria, Rwanda, and Uganda – were notable in their absence. This was probably for reasons similar to that which compelled Biblical Christians to boycott Lambeth; the terrible ambivalence among attendees about the tsunami of homosexualism sweeping across our planet, and a general unwillingness to acknowledge Bishop Robinson’s responsibility for the global financial crisis.

I also had serious concerns about the Australian delegation: they may well have been imposters, since not one of them was named ‘Jensen’. Still, given the parties young Silvio Berlusconi and his charming entourage held it’s quite understandable that this wasn’t an issue about which anyone cared. Indeed, it was a true inspiration to witness first-hand the Italian PM faithfully applying the Biblical example of King Solomon to the context of modern leadership, and if his bodyguards hadn’t subsequently confiscated my camera I’ve no doubt the footage would have proven most profitable. While perhaps not exactly edifying in any conventional sense of the term, it certainly offered a lesson in what can be accomplished when one attains the right combination of money and power: never mind Rick Warren; if little Bobby Duncan could only show that scene to ambitious young men he’d have them falling over each other in a rush to become successful faux-bishops.

Lastly I’d especially like to thank the people of Pittsburgh for giving their police officers the chance to pretend they’re sides-persons at an ACNA Vestry meeting. They did a marvelous job of showing what can be accomplished when excess testosterone is combined with a profound insecurity about the size of one’s you-know-what and let’s face it: who needs the first amendment when you can have shiny black uniforms with steel-toed boots? Besides, what would the liberals at the Thomas Merton Center know – of course Jesus wants His followers to use truncheons and teargas in His name. There’s simply no better way to show sinful young trouble-makers (and anyone else daring to question the right for executives of failed banks to be paid their bonuses out of the public purse) how much God loves them.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

G20, GAFCON, & the Colorado Clown.

The past few days I’ve been terribly busy putting the finishing touches on a top-secret forthcoming presentation to the G20 summit. My attendance was initially proposed by the French President Nicholas Sarkozy, whose wife has been desperate to meet me since first seeing my picture here on this blog, and as the Canadian government is currently seeking my assistance in finding a way of sending David Short back to where he came from Prime Minister Stephen Harper naturally supported Monsieur Sarkozy’s initiatives. One thing led to another, and before you could say ”The hoary head is a crown of glory” I was packing my suitcase with some suitably lurid vestments (never forget Article Forty, my Dear Sinners) for a surprise visit to little Bobby Duncan while I’m in Pittsburgh.

The heart of my address will be an outline of what I call “Homeopathic Economics”, the essence of which involves resolving a large financial mess by subsequently making lots of small ones (although the process can also be reversed – as George W. Bush so clearly demonstrated - by preparing for a really big crisis by first indulging in countless smaller acts of fiscal idiocy). Like most of my ideas this theory didn’t actually originate with me, since it’s a financial strategy which Biblical Church Leaders have embraced since time immemorial, but I generally enjoy taking the credit for it regardless, and as the assembled political rulers are unsaved heathens to a man (including the women) they're unlikely to know otherwise.

indeed, perhaps the greatest living exponent of this principle has been little Donny Armstrong, who having almost successfully milked a cool $392,000 out of his parishioners is now attempting to resolve things by hitting them up for a further $1,500 per family - a move which is certain to get moms & dads just racing to become a part of all the excitement at St. Georges. You can read the details of this marvellous strategy for evangelism on p.14 of the St. George’s Worship and Program Guide (how long do you think they’ll be leaving this fabulous link up unedited?): those who’d rather donate through a gift of stock are encouraged to call Dareleen on 434-3364 – we’ve got some old Enron certificates laying around the house here somewhere, and if little Donny can’t on-sell them nobody can.

What this helpful guide doesn’t mention is that St. George’s beloved leader has now been arraigned to stand trial on 22 February, 2010: I dare say he’s been too busy telling the local paper how he’ll have all his debts paid off “within the next 60 days.”. Which, unless Donny’s got another parish scholarship fund hidden away somewhere nobody knows about, sounds a pretty tall order – but then again we are talking about the man who claimed ++Rowan Williams founded ACNA, so anything’s possible.

In fact the more I think about it, the more I realise that if Mme Sarkozy didn’t find me so irresistibly handsome the G20 leaders may well have invited little Donny to address them, instead of me. With the world’s economy this dismal they’re going to need some serious help spinning their way out of things, and not even the World’s Greatest Doctrinal Warrior can spout crap like Donald Armstrong III does.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

"Behold - I make nothing new whatsoever!"

Thinking Anglicans has just posted a fascinating except from that fine Lagos newspaper, The Guardian on little Martyn Minns’ newly elected Lord and Saviour, Archbishop Nicholas Okoh. Few pieces I’ve ever seen anywhere so effectively illustrate the profound degree of Biblical Literacy prevailing in the peaceful and prosperous nation of Nigeria, and I’d urge My Beloved Sinners everywhere to meditate deeply upon it’s homosensualist-free message.

The most crucial lesson opens the second paragraph: “Generally, Christianity is founded on strict conservatism.” This, as any GAFCON scholar will know, is completely true: it’s why Jesus was a highly respected member of both the Pharisees and Sanhedrin. It’s also why Our Lord refused to even speak to the Samaritan woman by the well, let alone ask her for a drink. After all; if Jesus hadn’t been a True Conservative he wouldn’t have so clearly explained that nothing will ever destroy the magnificent buildings of the Jerusalem temple.

What’s more, the Apostles continued this commitment by consistently urging converts to continue making regular sacrifices to the Roman deities, which is why emperors like Nero and Diocletian had so much respect for Christians and their contribution to society. It was Christians who strived to ensure the tradition of gladiatorial games was maintained, and Christians who today are doing their best to ensure the age-old tradition American tradition of denying first-world medical care to the poor continues unabated.

No, the idea that following Christ might involve us being called to think in new ways is anathema. Challenging late 19th century preconceptions and exegesis can only lead to people questioning prevailing power structures, and as a former officer in one of the world’s more brutally corrupt military forces little Nicholas Okoh knows only too well how much trouble that can lead to… but the story of how the noble forces in which he served crushed a few disobedient southern states impertinent enough to dare secedeing from the north will have to wait for another homily.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Has Bobby Duncan Got Wood Yet?

The actual count escapes me (although I’m sure someone in ACNA could work it out if they removed their shoes and socks), but little Rev. Wood and his gang at St. Andrew’s Mt. Pleasant must be more than halfway through their 40 days of discernment process. This is a trade-marked program (so it's certain someone is making a penny out of it), in which the clergy of a parish seek to determine whether or not God understands that they were “just kiddin’” when they took their vows of ordination, and the congregation decides whether or not “Thou shalt not steal” applies to church property.

Now I’m sure this whole 40 days business is a marvelous excuse to drag people away from their homes and family for at least one extra evening a week, and into a church meeting where of course the Holy Spirit calls for an offering to be collected. Still, there’s something sad in seeing that any church – even one like St. Andrew’s, where folks are very proud of their “dynamic contemporary worship” (which is happy-clappyese for screaming like banshees while slobbering like walruses during the Sunday morning service) – needs to bother with all this pretense.

No, in a truly Biblical church like mine the Rector says something and it happens. Never mind this dilly-dallying around in an attempt to create some sort of justifying veneer: if the boss wants to go, everyone goes. After all, we all know what the conclusion’s going to be at the end of all this: little Rev. Steve has already gone on record as saying “It’s time for the Diocese of South Carolina to join the new North American Province: Anglican Communion North America. Anything short will mark a complete failure of leadership”, so you don’t need to be The Amazing Criswell to predict that when the waters subside at the end of St. Andrew’s forty days their little ark won’t strike land at Mt. ECUSA. So why bother with all the pretense?

Let’s face it, when a Priest in a polo shirt gets the purple itch nobody’s as eager to help out with a good scratching as little Bobby Duncan. Sure Wood's Pentecostal predilections aren’t going to win him any friends among the Reformed Episcopal boys (see Lifting the Rock’s great post for an idea of how much the Calvinist Chosen Ones love their new tongue-babbling bedmates in ACNA), nor is his obvious distain for a nice flurry of man-lace going to appeal to the Forward-in-Faith dearies, but after losing to Bishop Lawrence last time South Carolina was handing out hats it’s clear Bobby Duncan’s sect is young Steve’s only chance of getting the promotion he clearly craves.

Which should settle the matter. Clearly the boy’s been sparing the rod when it comes to spoiling his congregation: if they honestly need a 40 day pantomime before complying with a demand this crucial to his thirst for power what certainty is there that they’ll follow orders and drink the kool-aid when the time comes?

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Don Armstrong tells it like it isn't.

A most Dearly Beloved Sinner recently emailed a link to a marvellous archive of articles in the Colorado Springs Gazette featuring everyone’s favourite defendant, little Don Armstrong.

The collection offers a fascinating insight into what passes for honesty in ACNA: take this fine example:

“ACNA was created at the request of the archbishop of Canterbury as a way to gather all the orthodox Anglicans in North America into a single coherent entity with which he and the primates could communicate and eventually name as a replacement province for the Episcopal Church as it departs the Communion.”

The Gazette, Colorado Springs, August 22, 2009

You never knew that? Don’t worry: neither did ++Rowan Williams, nor little Bobby Duncan outside of his dreams. Not that there’s any need to doubt; since it was said by a Gafconeer it simply must be true. Or a least that’s what little Don is hoping the judge thinks next summer.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

CANA Announces New Lord and Saviour!

All eyes and ears (but absolutely no other body parts) are currently on Umuahia, where big Pete Akinola’s anointed successor has just been announced. That’s right, my Dearly Beloved Sinners; the primate universally known as “Mr. Modesty really has agreed to hand over the big bed in Abuja (now there’s one wet patch you wouldn’t have thought many folks would be eager to roll in) has agreed to step down and shuffle off into wherever it is disagreeable schismatics go after they’ve reached their use-by date.


In a personal phone call made as soon as the decision was announced, little Martym Minns told me (ok, that’s not really true, but if Viagraville can cut and paste CANA press releases in such a way as to make it look like they’re better connected than they really are so can I) the successor is to be little Archbishop Nicholas Okoh. Breathless with excitement, little Martyn boasted of his “personal friendship” with his new boss – a relationship which should make putting words in his mouth considerably easier, albeit not more convincing.

Prior to receiving his Vocation, the new man with the funniest hat was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Nigeria Army, where he gained a firm understanding of non-violent conflict resolution and negotiation. Indeed, Okoh has extensive experience in an institution with a proud legacy of peacefully protecting Nigerian civilians in the face of pressure from foreign oil-producers to put their interests first. Just ask the people of Biafra how blessed they were by the Nigerian military’s Christian witness, and there can be no doubt a foundation in this noble institution prepared the way for his subsequent roles as Chairman of the Nigeria Christian Pilgrims and GAFCON Theological Resource Group.

No, I’m sure we can all look forward to hearing lots more from little Nicky Okoh, some of which may even be in his own words. Just remember to never ask him what he did in the war.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

The Lost Symbol: A Christian Review.

As the world’s Most Important Doctrinal Warrior, it made perfect sense for Dan Brown and his publishers to send me an advance copy of his latest assault on the Amazonian rainforests (just be glad nobody’s figured out a way of printing books on polystyrene). After all, I’ve long been famous for my compassionate and understanding ministry to those stupid enough to believe the New Age movement’s nonsense: if it’s ok for Random House to squeeze millions out of the spiritually gullible there’s no reason Christian Leaders like myself, Steve Wood, and Nicky Gumbel can’t also milk them for a share.

Now I know The Da Vinci Code had less Biblical Christians than myself up in arms, and I won’t deny that in suggesting Christ’s penis wasn’t purely decorative it was indeed a work of filthy blasphemy. Yet let’s face it, the real bad guys of the story were foreigners and Roman Catholics - so it can’t be said Brown wasn’t accurate when it came to the essence of the Gospel. Nor was his understanding of church history worse than that of any ACNA “bishop”: by attempting to substantiate his story through making up facts Dan Brown stands firmly in the Conservative tradition personified by little Peter Jensen and his claim of lay presidency being authentically Anglican, or Bobby Duncan's earlier insistence that Pittsburgh is part of Argentina. So what’s really so outlandish about alleging Mary Magdalene signed Jesus’ name on her child-support papers? Bishop Quinine’s been signing David Virtue’s name on loan applications for years, and while that may have contributed to the mess that Lehman Brothers found themselves in it also proves it takes more just a little petty fraud to destroy Christianity.

Naturally I haven’t actually bothered to finish reading The Lost Symbol, although in my case it isn’t simply because the plane landed or that I was mugged in the Greyhound terminal. Nor did I trade it with the lifer in a cell across the walkway for cigarettes and a mug of prison hooch, or any of the other every-day circumstances in the average Dan Brown reader’s life. Rather I just lost interest in whatever it was Brown’s characters were looking for: the symbol may be a puzzle to them, but it sure isn’t a mystery to anyone responsible for this latest literary hype. In fact it’s a religious symbol Brown and his entourage have been familiar with for years – a capital ‘S’ with a vertical line running through it – and it’s one that only a fool thinks can ever pose a threat to the Cross.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Reaching out to the lost (and renamed).

In these nefarious times it’s impossible to understate the importance of evangelism. Travelling around and quarrelling with your fellow members of the Communion is great fun, and unquestionably personally edifying, but as little Bobby Duncan’s already discovering, money doesn’t grow on trees - it comes out of the pockets of those faithfully sitting week after week upon one’s pews. That’s why, if the Church is to survive the terrible expenses brought upon us by the need to fly off to yet another crucial conference we must all explore new ways of exploiting groups hitherto overlooked by Bible-believers.

One avenue of outreach which has proved particularly profitable here at St. Onuphrius’ has been our Witness Protection Scheme Ministry. Through our compassionate and uncompromising teaching of The Word we’ve seen lives transformed in ways that the creation of a new identity and appearance-altering plastic surgery alone could never accomplish.

Take ‘Steve’, for example. A quietly-spoken man with tremendous respect for The Scriptures (but who sadly has lately grown remiss when it comes to paying his tithes and offerings), nobody meeting him today would realise he was once Jim Delgarno; the underworld-underling who double-crossed some of the most dangerous drug-lords in the country before subsequently betraying them all in return for impunity from prosecution.

Indeed, every time I see Jim Steve in his place of employment (he now works at the Ichabod Springs Town Hall, where he’s a clerk in the Treasury), I cannot help but be reminded of Fundamentalism’s power to bring out the very best in people. What’s more, anybody passing his house at 1034 Troll Boulevard (it’s part of development named in my honor after I prayerfully assisted in overturning local planning restrictions) can clearly see the blessings which have come upon Steve’s wife and children (the glass in the front windows isn’t really bullet-proof: it was cheaper to simply bribe the inspectors responsible) as a result of responsibility for Witness Protection Schemes being outsourced in Church/Government partnerships like this one.

What’s more, it’s a fact that other participants in this ministry look to Jim Steve as an example of what their futures may also hold. Naturally I’m certain they’ll all prove a little more diligent than ‘Steve’ in ensuring they never forget to support St. Onuphrius’ materially, although I must hasten to add this hasn’t had the slightest influence upon my love for Steve and his family – as is evidenced by the large insurance policy the Parish Council recently took out upon them to ensure that whether in life or death, Steve and his family will continue supporting the Ministry Team.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Little Peter Jensen's Party.

About a week ago little Dobby Ould was permitted by his master, Lord Volder-Jensen of Sydney, to attend (upon payment of the requisite fee, of course) the Anglican Church League’s Centenary Dinner. The following morning, with his heart all a-flutter, the hapless house-elf posted at Viagraville a breathlessly gullible account of the wonders his beady little eyes had beheld at this glamorous event on the Antipodean pseudo-Calvinist calendar (despite their rhetoric, you’ve only got to look at any of their “ministry initiatives” to see they’re actually as Arminian as any other bunch of spittle-flecked revivalists).

For those not familiar with this fascinating organization, it’s the Australian Anglo-Baptist answer to Tammany Hall, although the ACL has never enjoyed Tammany Hall’s reputation for integrity and democracy. Nor did Tammany Hall ever embrace nepotism as shamelessly as these Australian synod-fixers, which as any Christian familiar with the Biblical account of Saul, Jonathan, and David, knows, is always how the Kingdom of God is furthered.

In fact little Dobby had such an exciting time (obviously Jensen family slaves don’t get out much) that he’s just shared another highlight of his gala evening: an account of the Anglican Church League’s splendid century of misogyny, homophobia, sectarianism, all all-round misanthropy.

Naturally this address wasn’t delivered by a qualified historian, but by the recently ordained grandson of a former Archbishop (I told you they’re serious about nepotism). Consequently as a piece of research it was as balanced as anything produced by, for example, such unbiased academics as Kim Il-sung’s hagiographers. Yet a few of my Australian correspondents have expressed dismay at their neglect to mention any of the ACL’s proudest moments.

Perhaps that’s because there are simply too many of these to recount: if you’re utterly convinced you have a monopoly on god then one hundred years offers a great many opportunities to mistreat your fellow humans. Certainly mention was made of the terrible circumstances that brought about the League’s formation: two congregations introduced Chasubles, while other Sydney parishes started incorporating such blasphemous popish follies as brass crosses and robed choirs! (Nashotah House must be so proud to see their advertising subsidize Dobby’s polemic), but sadly the finest accomplishments were indeed ignored.

Thus, for example, no mention was made of the former ACL President who twenty-five years ago was one of Peter Jensen’s most powerful patrons. Indeed, it’s doubtful the Gafcon faux-primate would be where he is today were it not for the support once given to him by little ex-Reverend Victor Roland Cole. A tireless fighter in the battle against women’s ordination, “Big Vic” eventually found his ministry cut short when word got out about the liturgical role for women he claimed to have identified in Scripture; a musical ministry involving a fourteen year-old girl blowing tunes upon his Oboe of Orthodoxy.

This omission is a pity, because the story of dirty old Vic Cole is also a charming illustration of the way the Anglican Church League protects their own: it took 20 years, three consecutive Archbishops, mentions in parliament and a Royal Commission into police corruption, not to mention significant media outrage, before this was finally demanded. Not even Tammany Hall was that tenacious when it came to protecting child abusers. But then again Tammany Hall never accused the Episcopal Church of immorality either.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

"It is not the healthy who need a doctor...'

Thinking further upon the unBiblical notion of health-care reform, it struck me that the fact that Albanian women have a longer life expectancy than those in the United States (see here for the numbers) is just further proof of how important it is for Biblical Christians to oppose this evil initiative to care for the weakest and most vulnerable members of American society.

Little Matt Kennedy’s been doing his bit to drum up the hysteria, by citing an article in The Guardian outlining flaws in the British National Health Service while conveniently failing to mention that according to United Nations research the people of the United Kingdom must endure the world’s 22nd highest life expectancy, while the United States stands at a proud #38 – showing how the enslaved British must endure their substandard health care system for significantly longer than Americans, who die younger, as god and the Republican Party obviously intended them to.

Leading the way, however, in this crucial battle, has been the Investor’s Business Daily who published an editorial implying that were Stephen Hawking to live in the U.K. he “wouldn’t have a chance” (thank you Jay Bookman for spotting this). Sadly because of troublemaking nit-pickers who kept pointing out that not only does Professor Hawking live in the U.K., he has always lived in there, the IDB felt pressured to revise their well-researched hyperbole. All of which has left Consuella wandering around the Rectory muttering about how “if investment experts relied on idiots like these for advice the global financial crisis was inevitable.”

Personally I think she’s being a bit harsh. As I reflected while recently conducting an extremely well-remunerated funeral, you only have to look at the late Michael Jackson to see how well the American medical system works for rich and poor alike. And if the citizens of more affluent and influential nations like Costa Rica or Malta want to squeeze out a few more years of life before facing judgement at the feet of the Lord and Saviour their socialist governments forced them to deny that’s up to them. As far as I’m concerned sending the ineffectively insured to meet their Maker a few years earlier than necessary is simply good stewardship. After all, it’s not as if what Jesus said in Luke 6:20 about the Kingdom of God belonging to the poor mentions anything about treating them should they fall sick or injured. Instead of whining about not being able to see a doctor, they should simply obtain whatever antibiotics or other medication they need by helping our honest agro-industrial corporations and consuming more factory-farmed chicken and pork.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Five Reasons Health Reform is Evil.

Up until now I’ve been content to let my weaker brethren rant against President Obama’s health-care reforms, while I’ve been covertly fighting by spreading wild rumours behind the scenes. Unfortunately Newsweek has exposed my five most creative falsehoods, leaving me with no alternative but to lay my cards on the table and plainly state why Conservative Christians must oppose the idea that everyone - rich or poor - is entitled to the very best of medical care.

1. Affordable care encourages preventative medicine.
   The earlier anything serious is diagnosed the higher the probability it can be successfully treated. Meaning the patient is more likely to enjoy a lengthy (& expensive) retirement, instead of dying early and leaving a large bequest to one’s Church and Ministry.
   
   
2. A High Infant Mortality Rate is Biblical.
   The Bible features a number of instances when multitudes of babies die needlessly; see for example Exodus 12:29-30 or Matthew 2:16. This is why godless nations like Cuba have a lower infant mortality rate than America, whose rank of 29th in the world (alongside Slovakia and Poland) is a reflection of the influence Scripture has played in the development of national priorities. Besides, we’re not talking about foetuses, so it really doesn't matter if a few thousand little ones are lost every year as a result of failing to receive any medical care more sophisticated than a couple of aspirin and a jar of home-brewed gripe-water.
   
   
3. Incompetent Doctors are Generous Givers.
   The more controls and accountability placed upon the medical profession the harder it becomes for incompetent and unconscionable doctors to make serious money. Such ‘professionals’ are often desperate for the respectability that comes by associating with prominent clergy, and can be among a Gafconeer’s biggest donors. The more scurrilous will even pay a referral fee in return for directing hypochondriac parishioners their way: our Rectory swimming pool and spa was entirely paid for by my convincing a number of elderly Rotarians (and most of the Minister’s Fraternal) that they needed monkey-gland implants. Cap medical expenditure and you can kiss these sort of benefits good-bye.
   
   
4. Poor people don’t matter.
   If God wanted us to worry about the worthless Jesus would have mentioned them. If Biblical Christians were supposed to care whether or not the financially unattractive receive first-world medical attention the Gospels would call us to display compassion for those less fortunate than ourselves. Instead Christ concentrated upon condemning homosexuality and women's ordination.
   
   
5. Look at Canada.
   They don’t have any old people there, because the socialist medical system puts them all to death. Same as in Great Britain, France, Germany and pretty much everywhere else in Europe, as well as Australia, New Zealand, Israel and Ireland. It’s also a fact that any child in scraping their knee or elbow in these countries is summarily executed, since the state refuses to bear the cost of giving them a band-aid.
   
   (Actually I know point #5 is pathetically stupid, but every time I repeat it another idiot believes me, so the temptation to include it here is irresistible.)
   

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.