Little Don Armstrong – What’s there to say?

It’s no secret that I take great pride in being the most narcissistic leader in the history of Conservative Christianity. Indeed, my grasp on reality is to tenuous that by comparison Bobby Duncan’s pretentious claim to provincial status is a mere fleeting whimsy. When it comes to self-obsession I set the standard to which even the Ould twins can but dream of attaining. And it was me who taught the Archbishop of Canterbury everything he knows about plain speaking.

Yet after reading this link - sent to me by a most Dearly Beloved Sinner – the awful truth is dawning that in our midst may be One whose bootlaces not even I am worthy to tie. Or at any rate I wouldn’t be if he wasn’t such a slip-on loafers kind of guy. Stolen loafers.

That’s right: for those of you who haven’t already clicked the clicky I’m talking about ACNA’s favourite felon - little Don Armstrong. Who after spending years protesting his total innocence is now insisting with the same fervour in an interview with little David Virtue that the verdict which resulted in him being ordered to repay $99,247.00 while undertaking 400 hours community service “made good sense and was correct”.

There’s just too many gems to list them all. Naturally the piece reflects Mr. Virtue’s typically unique reportage, but this time there’s something more… a kind of brilliance, perhaps… or maybe just the sort of delusional arrogance rarely seen beyond the walls of federal institutions for serial recidivists. My personal favourite is the way the minister of “the only traditional Anglican parish in town” avoids explaining exactly what he’ll be doing during those 400 hours. Although letting slip that he managed to finangle his followers into paying the bill for his defence comes a close second.

No doubt each of you will find your own special moments in this masterpiece, and I’d encourage you to share them here. To start things rolling here's one selected by Bishop Quinine:

How large is your parish?
About 500 families.

Like the Bishop says, obviously the stress of it all has prevented Donny from realising he’s no longer in court, and can now stop lying.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

When the people of Christchurch have friends like this...

By now even those of you relying on Fox News to keep informed will be aware that Christchurch New Zealand was recently struck by a terrible earthquake. Hundreds have been killed or injured hundreds, and thousands of families left homeless. Indeed; among those affected by this tragedy have been a number of My Beloved Sinners, whom will no doubt be greatly comforted to know that I been personally praying for them through this time.

Obviously word of my incredibly generous and pastoral response has travelled, because in response little Peter Jensen, Lord of Mordor and Archbishop of Sydney, issued a press release announcing that he would also be praying. This was in turn sent to me by no fewer than three Beloved Sinners, all of whom were amazed by the penultimate paragraph:

“The special relationship forged in conflict while facing common enemies means that our hearts go out to the citizens of Christchurch and that we have a special reason to pray for them.”

Naturally I consider it entirely appropriate that in a time of grief such as this a Christian Leader should speak of “conflict” and “enemies”. What better an occasion is there to remember hatred and division than when people are mourning, and their lives devastated? Yet it can't be denied that I was also disappointed little Peter failed to be more explicit. Having never made any secret of his ambition to export the unique permutation of Gnostic Puritanism he so quaintly calls “authentic Anglicanism” (a boast his Forward in Faith allies-of-convenience must love hearing) to neighbouring dioceses, his sudden coyness in this regard is curious: who exactly are the “enemies” of which the GAFCON Committee’s favourite faux-primate speaks? Female Clergy? Homosexualists? Women daring to read the Bible aloud in the presence of men?

Aware that My Beloved Sinners deserve an explanation, the St. Onuphrius’ Ministry Team decided to call the contact at the bottom of the release: Russell Powell – the “Archbishop’s Senior Media Adviser”. Sadly upon his answering it became immediately clear that little Peter’s serfs are not used to their master’s press releases being taken seriously. Nor – if the very drowsy voice on the other end of the line was any indication – is the Senior Media Adviser’s workload such as to oblige him to get out of bed in the morning. In fact the poor man sounded so sleepy that I initially feared Bishop Quinine was mistaken in his insistence that the time in Australia was currently half past eight in the morning (a not unjustified suspicion given we heard him muttering “carry the nine and multiply by the square root of thirteen” whilst calculating), but subsequent checks ascertained we were indeed calling at a time less professional media advisers (i.e. those working for organizations where losing $160 million is deemed something for which those responsible must be held accountable) consider “mid-morning”. Although given the head honcho's track record I dare say Russell Powell isn't the only serf in Mordor to have lost faith in the old adage about “Early to bed and early to rise” rendering one “healthy, wealthy, and wise.”

Finally, once he’d regained some semblance of cognitive function, came a response which made the wait worthwhile. Lord Volder-Jensen wasn’t talking about his usual Anglican enemies, but about international ones. The people of Sydney and Christchurch, Sleeping Beauty continued, fought on the same side through both world wars, and the Arch-faux-primate was referring to these conflicts – something which “would have been immediately clear any Australian or New Zealander”.

Obviously I was overjoyed at hearing this, despite wondering how I’d break the news to the Beloved Sinners who’d sent the link that they’re clearly not really citizens of their respective countries, and their parents must have lied to them regarding their birth places. After all, in this time of sorrow little Peter Jensen had realized there’s something even more sacred than hating Apostate Liberals – killing foreigners. Our conversation continued:

“So Archbishop Jensen was referring to a time when the people of your two nations joined to kill Germans and Japanese?”

“Yes.. er… I suppose you could put it that way.”

“And now the Archbishop is comforting the bereaved, homeless, and frightened by reminding everyone how much your countrymen enjoyed killing Germans and Japanese together. If only more Christian Leaders understood the importance of recalling bloodshed and war in times of suffering!”

“Er… Yes... Sort of...”

Things somewhat tapered off from there - obviously the Senior Media Adviser wasn't used to engaging with a Doctrinal Warrior of my caliber. Yet as among those missing and presumed killed are twelve young Japanese students I can with absolute confidence declare that, given his amazing sensitivity and tact, we can all now expect little Peter Jensen's next project to be an evangelistic campaign in the streets of Tokyo. Featuring screenings of this.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Libya - the James Dobson Influence.

I will begin this important homily by thanking all the Beloved Sinners on Facebook who have faithfully complied with the Bible’s teaching in 1 Thessalonians 5:12-13, and taken the time to wish a very happy birthday. Nevertheless, I must remind you all that the Scriptures make it clear that simply being nice to the Wisest and Most Humble Christian Teacher in history isn’t enough: 1 Corinthians 9:14 makes it clear that “those who spread the Good News should earn their living from the Good News” (or at least it does if you search through little-known fundamentalist translations until finding one you like), and anyone who doesn’t immediately recognize this as a command from god to send me something of immense value is clearly nothing more than an apostate liberal. Even if, as some of you correctly noted, it isn’t really my birthday, since I was of course born on a leap year. Which makes me a virile youth of only 23, and explains not only my radiant vigour, but also the obvious appeal I have for young people everywhere – especially those who send unsolicited emails from the Ukraine requesting marriage.

Meanwhile, I must tell you all that I have extremely busy advising an old friend of mine, Colonel Gaddafi, or as he prefers to be called for reasons of brevity, “The Brotherly Leader and Guide of the First of September Great Revolution of the Socialist People's Libyan Arab Jamahiriya”. Now, before anyone jumps to any unwholesome conclusions, I am indeed perfectly aware that he is foreigner (and consequently am always most diligent about washing my hands after we’ve spoken), but let’s not forget that he also hates homosexualists and Osama bin Laden, makes billions of dollars a year from oil, and is personally responsible for the death of thousands of innocent people. Which means that were he not foreign he could well be a member of the Bush family. And besides, how could anyone who looks like this not deep-down really be a member of an Anglican schismatic group?

In fact our relationship goes back to 1986, when St. Ronald Reagan bombed Libya. A small explosive device of only a couple of megatons happened to hit one of Gaddafi’s daughters, allegedly killing her, and the President’s office understandably contacted me for ethical guidance in the wake of this minor collateral event. Of course I was quite easily able to put everyone’s minds at ease, since the child had clearly already been born, and I’ve always maintained that the Bible makes it quite clear that killing a child is only sinful if the infant is not yet born. After that – as opponents of Obamacare are making quite clear – you can do what you like. Especially if the child is poor, or not white.

Having resolved matters at this end, I was then requested to contact the wackiest thing to come out the desert since Wile. E. Coyote cured his obsession with that annoying bird in the hope that my sapiential counsel might help prevent a reoccurrence of the events which led up to this unfortunate misunderstanding. And believe me, My Beloved Sinners, our meeting was initially quite tense, since - as anyone who has ever tried reasoning with the Archbishop of Sydney’s younger brother can testify - psychopathic dictators are not used to listening to anything other than their own praises.

Still, after a little while I was able to shift the subject to a topic of great interest to him; namely that of disciplining his country’s citizens or, as he prefers to call them, his “children”. It just so happened that I had brought with a quantity of material by none other than little James Dobson, and you’d better believe there was no way Muammar could resist peaking at anything called “Dare To Discipline”. From there it was only a short step my thrilling retelling of the famous Dachshund incident, after which it was clear I’d made yet another convert. Although not even I can deny that the way the Lion of Libya afterwards kept chuckling over the phrase “whipping the wiener” was just a tad creepy.

Even so, as a result of our epoch-changing meeting I can with confidence reassure any who may be worried about events currently taking place in that charming. Since that day I know for a fact that Gaddafi has been an enthusiastic devotee of Dr. Dobson’s parenting style, and what we’re seeing today is nothing more than a loving father teaching his willful and rebellious offspring that there are such things as “boundaries”, and that these need to be respected. Sure instead of a firmly administered spanking he’s using Kalashnikovs and some strange fluorescent chemicals which melts skin, but that’s really just a small matter of logistics. The principle is the same, and it’s one I wish every parent would embrace: nothing teaches a child to love you like thrashing them to within an inch of their life. Or on occasion a little bit beyond. It’s really just a matter of plain common sense, isn’t it?

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.