Friday, January 29, 2010

Microsoft Windows 7: The Biblical-Christian Perspective.

Microsoft: if ever a corporation reflected the breadth of today’s Anglican Communion it’s Seattle’s most socially well-adjusted offspring since Robert Stroud.

Indeed; from the company's bureaucracy - clearly been modelled upon that of the Church of England - to their Customer Relations Division's mastery of Evangelical compassion and listening skills, Microsoft epitomizes the One True Church founded by St. Paul 2,000 years ago in Canterbury. Their Legal Department are as pernickety as a gaggle of Forward in Faith dearies at a conference on vestments. The Product Research and Development team have the intelligence of Charismatics, and Corporate Ethics are undoubtedly handled by a member of ACNA. All of which should explain why I was so pleased this week when my long-awaited liberation from Vista finally arrived, in the form of a Windows 7 upgrade disc.

The first exciting discovery (after an earlier revelation that “free” didn’t include a postage and handling charge large enough to ship several elephants and an SUV via express post to anywhere on the planet) was that prior to starting I first needed to back up everything - there’s something so satisfyingly productive it demanded about spending an entire afternoon burning one’s life onto a box of DVDs. Next the upgrade demanded I download a few additional files, which only comprised a meager two-thirds of a gigabyte - so naturally there was no point in providing these on an additional disc: undoubtedly the additional postage costs of that second piece of plastic would have been more than Microsoft could ever afford.

Once downloading started another discovery followed – during each file the process would randomly stop, spend ten minutes or so displaying a “Verifying Data” message, and then start again. And again. From the beginning. Since it quickly became obvious this would tie up the St. Onuphrius’ parish internet access for much longer was practicable I was obliged to tap into the neighbouring Baptist minister’s unsecured wireless network instead. However with all the restarts the paltry 660mb eventually exceeded 8 gigabytes, exceeding the monthly Baptist bandwidth, and choking their speed to a rate technically known as “stoned snail”. Thus forcing me to finally complete the process by once more connecting to our own account.

With this thrilling phase complete the real joy began. 62% of the way through to “the greatest Windows experience ever” things stopped. After enjoying the calming blue screen for some time I found myself with no alternative but to restart. Which solved the problem perfectly until we once again reached 62%. Bishop Quinine feared there may be a symbolic meaning to this number, and that we should interpret it as a sign commanding us to offer our Curate as a sacrifice to pacify the departing spirit of Vista. As plausible as this sounded, I first chose to instead pursue a more technical approach of crossing my fingers and chanting “Third time lucky”.

Which, surprisingly enough, worked. Providing you consider it “lucky” to watch one’s prized notebook display all the glorious colors of the Windows 7 boot screens before settling down into its new role as a unremittingly-black-screened paperweight.

After another few hours of therapeutic screaming I was, like Our Lord and Lazarus, able to restore life to my beloved servant, although I’m afraid it would in this case be an exaggeration to say the subject of the resurrection no longer stinketh. Strange messages demanding the reinstallation of “Power Saver Service 1.2.25” appear at random, a button that used to glow green in testimony of all the power my machine was saving no longer works (not that I could ever see the logic in consuming more power to show one is consuming less power, but it was a pleasant color), and someone who sounds like Stephen Hawkings keeps telling me “An active blue-tooth device is within range”.

On the bright side, however, my machine now takes a whole 3.72 seconds less to start, meaning that after booting up a mere 69,304.8 times to recover the lost days spent installing this wonderful upgrade there’ll be some significant benefits with regard to time-saving. Consequently on the basis of using the machine twice daily I’m anticipating a remarkable increase in my personal efficiency and productivity sometime around October 2106.

Incidentally, upon completion I took the parish hounds for a much needed constitutional, and chanced to meet the Baptist minister and his wife, who enquired if we’d also been having problems with our internet connection – apparently their ADSL has started running terribly slowly. Of course I explained ours was working fine, but out of pastoral consideration suggested their computer’s operating system could be at fault: my recommendation was that they immediately upgrade to Windows 7. There’s nothing so rewarding as the feeling that comes from providing counsel to sinners in time of need.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Oh the humanity!

I’m indebted to Fr. Ackeroff for bringing my attention to little Matt Kennedy’s moving tale of foolishness at Viagraville. Or perhaps that should read “foolish tale of moving”, since even Bishop Quinine could have told him the apostate judicial system hasn’t truly understood the sacred importance of wholesale property theft since the Indian Removal Act of 1830.

Even so, there are two most delightful details in little Matt’s harrowing account of how he, as an example to responsible fathers everywhere, placed his own homophobia ahead of his children’s need for security and a warm roof over their heads. The first is a heart-rending recollection of his last Eucharist:

“After Communion and the blessing, we stripped the altar, deconsecrated it, emptied the ambry (yes we had one), and blew out the tabernacle candle.”
It’s the sheer poetic modesty of this sentence that brings tears to my rheumy old righteous eyes. The humble recognition that the altar could only remain consecrated if he were its senior presiding minister. The clear understanding of how an Episcopal church fitting, constructed by Episcopalians for use in Episcopalian worship, and legally the property of Episcopalians, could only function in a sacred capacity if used by a former Episcopalian – the ex-Rev. Matt – as part of an anti-Episcopalian schism. Without him the altar ceased to be capable of the service for which it was consecrated, and as such he had no choice but to recognize that liturgically. Talk about a servant’s heart!

The second detail is almost as beautiful:
“…all of the things that had been a part and parcel of our community life for more than a century had to stay.”
I must confess to having had no idea that little Matt had been there that long; his youthful visage certainly doesn’t betray him as a man of at least 130 years old. Whatever elixir Hostilium has been slipping him certainly works wonders. It would have been wiser, however, for them to have shared a little of the wondrous potion with church stalwarts of years gone past. A couple of 19th century wardens explaining that they weren’t part of the Episcopalian church at all, but were actually Kenyans joining a sect run by a defrocked bishop in Pittsburgh would have been all that was needed to swing the Judge’s finding in little Matt’s favor.

Lastly, I still can’t for the life of me understand why, as a fellow Calvinist, little Peter Jensen didn’t immediately offer refuge to Matt and his tribe. Surely Hostillium’s gifts as a preacher would have been more than welcome in Sydney, and the Family Firm would have loved for Matt to bring his chasuble and ambry. Perhaps Dobby or one of the other house-elves regularly lurking here could explain things for us?

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Rendering unto Caeser...

The Bible is unequivocal when it comes to the obligation for Biblical Christians to dutifully pay their tax: Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's. This does, however, give rise to another question: “How do we tell what is Ceasar’s and what is God’s?”. After all, Malachi 3:8 makes it clear that robbing God is as serious a crime as failing to tithe, and on the Glorious Day of Judgment none of us wants to found guilty of casting our pearls (or any other indirectly traceable income) before what the Bible calls “swine” – which was a common first-century term for I.R.S. investigators.

Fortunately the Word also answers this question for us with an account of how Jesus’ resolved the matter: in Matthew 17:24-27 we read of how, when Jesus received one of those pesky “Please Explain” reminders one can never afford to ignore, He instructed Peter to go fishing, and take what he found in the mouth of the first fish caught to the relevant authorities as payment of the outstanding bill.
Which is, My Dear Sinners, precisely what I do. If in His wisdom the Lord wants me to pay nothing, or perhaps a rusty hook left behind by less competent anglers than myself, then so be it: as the World’s Greatest Bible Teacher I’m not prepared to compromise my Biblical Obedience for anyone.

Naturally the Apostate Liberals controlling the taxation department initially objected to my Scriptural Stance. For a brief period I was experiencing no small degree of harassment from a Satanic Tool of the One-World Government who described himself as my “Case Officer”, but after one afternoon landing a particularly splendid shark, and faithfully forwarding him several partially-digested limbs from a local water-skier who’d gone missing several days previously, his calls ceased immediately.

Curiously enough Bishop Quinine’s experience was remarkably similar: in his case he’s particularly fond of fishing by the outfall of a particularly disreputable smallgoods manufacture, and the horse’s head he caught (which was delivered to the investigator’s house in person, as a mark of respect) appears to have been credited as payment in full, in perpetuity. Which just goes to show; there’s no problem so great that it can’t be solved by a solid grounding in the Scriptures and a little exegesis.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Matt Kennedy doesn't quite tell it all...

If there’s one incident that typifies little Matt Kennedy’s admirably Conservative approach to accuracy it’s his failure to correct local media reports that the reason he just about wiped out the congregation his wife worked so hard to build was because the “Diocese sued the church for not maintaining a modern stance on homosexuality”. As a result the reporter - whose grasp of grammar appears as sophisticated as their commitment to journalistic integrity - breathlessly explained “The church lost it's (sic) lease and had to shut down.” That’s right; and WWI really kicked off when Belgium invaded Germany.

Consequently when little Matt joyfully announced to his fellow Viagrans that “The odds that I will be forced by the government to help kill unborn babies or euthanize old people are significantly reduced... because the Bible-believing Christians of Massachusetts elected a god-fearing Repubelican nude model he was only telling half the story.

After all, every clergyman worth his collar knows there’s no chance of a stole fee in the case of a medically-terminated pregnancy. Furtive do-it-yourself attempts at solving the problem with a coat hanger, on the other hand, can be guaranteed to induce enough fatal cases of septicemia in young women to ensure any Minister can conduct sufficient funerals to meet the expenses of live-blogging the latest crucial convention. Besides, when your preaching is as boring as Matt’s an occasional anecdote concerning some sinful-and-recently-deceased teenager never fails to help keep his kind of audience from counting bricks in the wall behind the pulpit.

No, My Dearly Beloved Sinners, you should all pay attention to Matt’s insight on this subject. After all, he's a well traveled young man, and he’s witnessed first hand the mass executions of elderly people in Britain or Western Europe. His unrequited love for the Diocese of Sydney will have taught him of the way Australia’s socialized medical system ensures nobody over the age of 35 not related to the Jensens is summarily euthanized at the first sign of a sniffle. And it’s a safe bet he’s spent enough time sneaking around “special” Japanese web sites when Hostillium isn’t watching to know their universal health care’s idea of gerontology is to give the patient a sharp knife and a pamphlet detailing the cultural significance of hara-kiri.

Naturally Matt was also too humble to mention that untreated and desperate sick people can be among the most gullible; something any minister with a vision for evangelism knows how to exploit. Sure they’re unlikely to become long-term parishioners, but the big picture isn’t where one needs to focus in the race to become an ACNA “bishop”. Combine a crowd of desperate-to-be-healed indigents with a few prosperous local businessmen attracted by your linking reduced taxation to historical orthodoxy (the real reason Cramner was martyred had to do with his struggle against public money being wasted on keeping illegal immigrants’ children healthy – if God had meant them to have teeth He wouldn’t have invented candy and fast-food advertising) and a world of faux-purple is your oyster. And if eating that oyster results in a little dose of Vibrio vulnificus well hey - it’s not as if pseudo-bishops can’t afford immediate professional treatment.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Archbishop Peter Jensen: Mr. Gaffe-Con 2009


Competition may indeed have been fierce in lesser divisions, but the title of Mr. Gaffe-Con 2009 was never in doubt: nobody in either the apostate liberal Anglican Communion or those glorious sects which comprise its true-but-unrecognized schismatic “provinces” came close to little Pete when it comes to epitomizing the glorious mix of dishonesty, hypocrisy, incompetence, and all-round general nastiness for which Orthodox Biblical Christians have become famous.

Where does one begin when it comes to recounting his achievements of 2009? Do we recall his attempt to cover up what last January was rumored to be a loss of around $50 million of his parishioner’s money? Or do we start later in the year, when the truth finally leaked out that he’d manage to oversee a shortfall of more than three times the figure his house-elves were initially denying – a truly spectacular sum in excess of $160 million - turning the world’s richest diocese into the ecclesiastical equivalent of Arkansas. Except Arkansas’s leaders aren’t as famous for inbreeding and nepotism.

Yet Peter Jensen’s small gambling problem – for which he has never apologized, only spoken of how it made him feel - is only a small aspect of his many triumphs; 2009 also saw little Pete spearhead “Connect 09” - the largest evangelism campaign in Sydney diocesan history. Part of an ambitious “Vision for Growth”, it successfully resulted in a decrease in church attendance. Not that members of the Jensen family considered it a failure, of course: a key aspect of this spectacularly expensive flop involved Archbishop Pete ordering parishes to purchase vast numbers of a little book entitled “The Essential Jesus” (undoubtedly to distinguish Him from the non-essential Jesus they normally serve) for distribution to their unsuspecting neighbors.

“So what?” I can hear Dearly Beloved Sinners ask; “Lots of Bishops recommend material for their parishes to distribute.” Which is true, my Unenlightened Children, but what sets Mr. Gaffe-Con 2009 apart from the average Bishop is this: those booklets weren’t published by the Sydney Diocese, but by a privately owned company called “St. Matthias Press”. And among the directors and major shareholders of that company are… You Guessed It! Members of Little Pete’s family!!!

What was for most Sydney Anglicans a second (albeit much smaller) financial loss was for the fortunate shareholders of this profitable concern a marvelous windfall! Not that they had to worry about losing their jobs as a result of little Pete’s “investment strategies” – among the many names on the list of those laid off, or currently learning how to clean windscreens at traffic lights in preparation for a new career when the grant funding their current position runs out, cannot be found a single “Jensen”.

Such examples of Archbishop Peter Jensen’s genius are endless, and the above are just a few of the many instances cited in the countless emails I received nominating him for this prestigious title. Those of us in North America or Great Britain should heed them well: pay close attention next time you hear an aspiring Jensen groupie like little Matt Kennedy speaking of “Sydney’s bold commitment to Scripture”. After all, Matthew 4:5-6 shows you can always tell a leader by their preparedness to refer to the Scriptures.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Friday, January 15, 2010

A brief Word...

In response to an urgent message from the Spirit I find myself forced to interrupt the much awaited announcement of Mr. Gaffe-Con 2009 to deliver a special Word of Teaching to Dearly Beloved Sinners everywhere.

You see that I’ve often wondered what evil Pat Robertson committed to have ended up being condemned to endure such a shame as that of being a Southern Baptist. Not that there’s anything wrong per se with Southern Baptists, of course, not even ones like Pat who believe God enjoys hearing them shouting out “rubba-gubba-dubba-ma-honda” in between verses of "Shine Jesus, Shine". After all, they may be damned in perpetuity on account of having rejected Anglicanism and the Blessed Sacraments, but that doesn’t mean that some of my best friends mightn’t be Southern Baptists. Although it just so happens they aren’t, but only because I have standards; not because there’s anything wrong with Southern Baptists that repentance and literacy can’t cure.

And I can’t deny that on account of his false prophecy the Bible makes it clear that he should be put to death, but there’s no denying he’s entitled to a bit of leeway for having supported a grubby Liberian dictator who just happened to be sheltering an Al Qaeda operative. Or do we really want to stone someone who figured out a way to sell diet milkshakes under the tax-free umbrella of his religious media empire? After all, the man may be evil personified, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a lot to teach Biblical Christians in the Anglican Communion.

No, I’ve realized the cause of “Pastor” Robertson’s problem: his real name isn’t “Pat” at all, it’s “Marion”! That’s right – the “man’s name is transgendered and he’s in denial! What’s more the name “Pat” came about as a result of incestuous man-on-man contact. Besides, who’s to say that “Pat” isn’t really just a euphemism for some other form of pleasurable-but-guilt-ridden contact which may actually have occurred? Perhaps it’s in fact a code word for “Tug”, “Pull”, or “Rub”. Could his recent proclamation concerning Haiti in fact be a way of letting us know his real name is "Jerk"? Because if ever there was a man who acts like he needs one...

Finally, the Lord has directed me to a passage of Scripture concerning all this, although I’m not too sure what to make of it, since it doesn’t seem to apportion any blame whatsoever to liberals, apostates, or homosexualists. Or even to foreigners and colored folk. Read it for yourself, and be sure to share it with Jerk Robertson & his friend Limbaugh next time you see them.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Friday, January 8, 2010

The Runner-Up: Mr. Gaffe-Con 2009

This year there’s been a serious last minute dispute concerning the awarding of this prestigious title. As far as I’m concerned there was no contest: what better epitomizes Conservative Christian truthfulness better than little Don Armstrong’s claim that “ACNA was created at the request of the Archbishop of Canterbury”?

Yet a number of other members of the selection panel (ok, let’s be honest – it was Consuella, but if I don’t listen to her every now and then she may demand we go and spend three weeks living with her relatives) felt this wasn’t significantly more dishonest than any of the stuff posted every day at Viagraville. From her perspective little Donny may be a grubby bullying fraud who squeezed his parish for money not rightfully his, but it takes more than just that for someone to stand apart from the crowd in Anglican Bible-believing circles. Besides, with a trip to the big house a strong possibility after his trial next month, she feels he’s more of a contender for the 2010 award. Especially given the justifiable expectation that he’s going to come up with some really spectacular buck-passing to avoid spending any time wearing orange overalls and dreaming he’s the next Chuck Colson.

Which opens the field up for outsiders. Should the Runner-Up be little Bobby Duncan? After all, it’s not every defrocked clergyman who goes on to start his own sect, let alone one which then claims to be a “Province-in-Waiting” of the Church from whom he split.

Or what about Nicky Gumbell, who having made squillions out of a program conceived and developed by his predecessor (and foolishly passed on to him free-of-charge), was able to keep a straight-face (no pun intended) while saying “I'm absolutely astonished that anyone would go to a church and not be welcomed because of their sexual orientation.” Is there a bigger fib-for-Jesus someone tell than to first claim they’ve “got lots of gay friends” and then say they’re “Astonished by any church running Alpha not welcoming people because of their sexual orientation.”? What exactly do you and those “friends” talk about, Nicky? How much they love Carrie Prejean?

Yet at the end of the day the award can only go to one person, and it’s my great pleasure to announce that person is none other than the former Bishop of Rochester, the little Rt. Rev. Michael Nazir-Ali. Partly that’s because having been the bridesmaid but not the bride for every other top job he’s ever run for – from ++Cantaur to Leader of the Global Schism – it also seems only appropriate to make him the Runner-Up here. However the crucial factor in the selection of Whizzer-Willy was his announcement that he intended to devote his retirement to “working with the persecuted church”.
Let’s face it, his previous efforts at building relationships with his local Muslim community resulted in him receiving death threats and being placed under police protection, which means we can safely look forward to witnessing wholesale slaughter once he starts helping Christians in less stable climates.

It’s like Boris Yeltsin announcing an intention to spend his retirement as an AA counselor, or George W. Bush as a foreign policy analyst. Or John McCain writing a book on selecting running mates. But if only Donny Armstrong had offered to testify as a character witness for Bernie Maddoff – he’d have been a shoo-in then…

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

The 2009 Gaffe-Con Awards - Division 2: Genitally-Challenged Ministry.

This division used to be known as “The Award for Women’s Ministry”, but Dearly Beloved Sinners will know of my fervent commitment to political correctness, and it seemed appropriate to move with the times and rename it to something more inclusive. Besides, the new title now gives little David Virtue a chance of winning.

I’d even hoped my son Sad Brad Evans could put in a good showing under the revised category, but unfortunately his ongoing affliction with Pratt’s Disease prevented him from achieving anything more significant than a little pathetic trolling when Matron wasn’t watching her computer. Consequently the winner was never in doubt, and the title remains firmly in the hands of the 50-something percent of humanity whom St. Paul allegedly refused to let teach, although they were permitted to minister and occupy significant positions of leadership within the early church: My Beloved Sinners – the winner of the 2009 Gaffe-Con Award for Genitally-Challenged Ministry is the Reverend Canon Doctor Alison Barfoot.

“International Relations Assistant” to the man who epitomizes Uganda’s peaceful past, Archbishop Henry Orombi, Alison spent 2009 doing everything possible to make those whom Our Lord Jesus Christ foolishly forgot to explicitly condemn unwelcome in His Church – even going so far as to express her unabashed love for a Church leadership with no qualms about wanting to kill those daring to live as God made them to be. What’s more she managed to accomplish all this and more despite looking like she wears sensible shoes and drives a Subaru.

Nor should anyone contemplate asking questions about her own marital status: Alison may be footloose and fancy-free, but that doesn’t take away her right to cast the first stone. Clearly she just hasn’t found the right man yet, but as the charming picture below shows, she’s certainly keeping in practice for when “Mr. Right” finally does come along.

Alison Barfoot opens her mouth for ministry
No: most Gafconeers may on account of her gender not recognize this fine lady’s Priesthood, but here’s no denying she’s been able to spread schism, lies and hatred as effectively as many a man. It’s in no small part due to her connections that ++Orombi was able to rack up as many frequent-flyer points as he did in 2009, and should Uganda’s bold proposed stand against human rights become law, and blood once again flow in Kampala’s delightfully impoverished streets (or at least inside its prisons), it’s highly probable Alison Barfoot will win this award again next year for her noble role in helping to ensure the world’s Anglicans stood by and did nothing to stop the slaughter.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

The 2009 Gaffe-Con Awards

Well the holiday season is behind us now, and things are just about back to normal. Bishop Quinine has stopped seeing giant spiders in the Sanctuary, and the liverwurst stains have just about all been cleaned off my cappa magna. Given a little more time Evangelical Eric will probably even grow to like the tattoo of the Ould Twins that Brother Richthofen’s friends from Seminary gave him as part of an experimental liturgy held to commemorate the Slaughter of the Innocents, although I personally agree with Consuella that the Red Indian from the Village People would have been more masculine.

Yet before we all rush headlong into another year of gloriously tearing apart our Communion for Jesus it would be wise for us to take a moment to pause, and look back fondly upon the high points of 2009. Therefore it’s with great pride that I present the 2009 Gaffe-Con Awards for Conservative Bible-Believing Anglican Excellence.

Division Three: The Unsaved Blaspheming Evildoer’s Award

This award is exclusively for people outside the Kingdom of God (ie. who are not Anglican) who have nevertheless in some way in some way epitomized what it means to live as a Righteous Schismatic Christian It was, like all of this year’s honors, hotly contested, and the Judges’ initial inclinations were to award it to the suffragan Bishop of Sydney who defended his side-line occupation of slumlord by announcing "I have nothing to do with the house, and my position has nothing to do with it."

Unfortunately this decision was subject to some dispute, as contrary to appearances the Diocese of Sydney (a.k.a. “Mordor”) remains officially Anglican on account of the Jensen family lawyers still having proved incapable of finding a way for them to leave and keep all the loot. Certainly some of the panel felt that since they act like spittle-flecked Baptists, sound like spittle-flecked Baptists, and even look like spittle-flecked Baptists it would be safe to assume Jensen’s Senior Clergy in fact are spittle-flecked Baptists, but in the end it was felt that the technicality would have to stand, thereby disqualifying little Bishop Forsyth's splendid example of Fundamentalist Christian responsibility and compassion from this division.

Consequently it was decided was decided that the prize must go to His Holiness Benny Ratsfinger, whose charitable invitation to take the weirder Catholic extremes off ++Rowan’s hands might not have made Layman Bobby Duncan’s day, but it certainly got anyone with concerns about their son serving as an altar-boy for one of the less wholesome “Wardens of Walsingham” cheering. Besides, with most of Rome’s kiddy-fiddlers now ministering behind bars Benny can’t be as picky as he used to: these days he’s got to grab dodgy clergy from wherever he can find them, and goodness knows he’s welcome to ours. Now if only we can interest him in a package deal on evangelicals…

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.