Since every other orthodox blogger is currently squeezing their muse for something to say about Roman Polanski (his parents should have realised nothing good would come from giving their child an unreformed name like Roman) it seems only appropriate for me to also climb onboard the bandwagon. Especially since it’s such a novelty to see people arguing about something can’t possibly result in anyone threatening to boycott the next big party at Lambeth.
Bishop Quinine stands firmly alongside Whoopi Goldberg when it comes to thinking anything occurring within the context of an innocent nude modelling session involving a 43 year old adult and a 13 year old child can’t possibly be considered an act of rape. Then again Bishop Quinine’s idea of the perfect romantic evening also incorporates plying young people with champagne and quaaludes, which is why I wholeheartedly support Consuella’s recommendation that we employ armed security guards to ensure he’s never permitted to get within 300 yards of any children. If only someone would do the same for Ms. Goldberg.
Brother Richthofen, on the other hand, sees the whole sordid affair as an inevitable by-product of the moral decline which began when the Church began permitting the Ordination of heterosexuals. “The message this sent to society” he insists, “was that heterosexuality is not of itself a sin, resulting in society heading down the slippery slope which has not only resulted in openly heterosexual Bishops, but also in all manner of perversions such as paedophilia and the NRA flourishing in the wake of the Church no longer adhering to its God-given moral compass.” Brother Richthofen may indeed have a point, but I can't help feeling David Virtue won't appreciate his logic being used in this way.
For my part, as a Conservative Evangelist my primary concern must always be to seek ways of exploiting whatever has captured the public’s attention so that the Church might grow – if not financially, then at least numerically. Regardless of how sad or sordid any event may be, it’s my responsibility to glorify myself and God by milking whatever can be extracted from it. In this case I’ve come up with a winner that should make even more money than both little Donny Armstrong and +Peter Jensen combined have managed to fritter away.
In fact as soon as I finish posting this I’ll be heading around to enlist the help of our local popish emissary of Satan, my good friend Father McCracken of St. Catamite’s, in selling my plan to the Vatican. It’s simplicity itself: rather than spending all that money on covering up sex scandals of the past, or, worse still, paying out compensation to the abused victims of predatory clergy, Benny Ratzfinger and his boys need to ensure their evil priests are taught how to make movies. Not wholesome, family friendly ones with car chases and gun fights, but long arty ones that transform the simple act of buying a ticket into a statement telling the world you’re more artistic, sensitive and intelligent than the average guest on Jerry Springer, and you’re not ashamed of who knows it.
All any paedophile priest will then need to do is produce a few grainy masterpieces – preferably in shades of sepia and black and white – and instead of wanting to imprison him people will be falling over themselves to argue that since the ‘incidents’ occurred years ago it’s unfair to punish the perpetrator today, and that it’s wrong to judge a ‘genius’ by the same standards as everybody else. The end result will be a massive improvement in the reputation of sleazy clergymen, and an immediate reduction in the amount of bad publicity getting thrown Benny’s way. It’s an idea the inventors of man-lace are sure to positively jump at.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.