Wicked as you are, My Beloved Sinners, the federal order preventing Me and anyone associated with My Ministry from accessing the internet has been lifted in what is undoubtedly the Most Wonderful Christmas Blessing of all time.
Indeed, at this time of year, when the Curse of Rampant Liberalism is stripping this most sacred of seasons of all Christian greeting-card manufacturers call holy, and an Army of Politically-Correct Apostates fight to prevent Bible-Believers from celebrating the birth of the baby Jesus by pressing each other up against the Xerox machine for a round of tonsil-hockey at the office Christmas party, this miracle proves that a wise and wily Clergyman can still redeem the darkest of situations.
Before we go any further, however, let it be categorically clear that there was
absolutely no substance to the
criminal charges alleged allegations which lead to this appalling persecution of the Gospel. Indeed, those of you not sufficiently filled with the holy spirit to believe everything I say without question may even have problems comprehending the extent to which such pernicious apostate liberal conspiracies exist in a nation where rich people can convince the poor that it’s in their interest to preserve medical insurance corporation profits at the expense of their own health. Yet, as anyone who’s ever skimmed the “Favorites” file on little David Ould’s browser can tell you, the Evil rampant in the hearts and minds of seemingly normal-albeit-rather-ugly apostate enemies of Biblical Christianity knows no bounds.
Mind you, the whole situation escalated so quickly that even a Christian as wisely perceptive as Me was hard-pressed keeping up with things. When the Rectory was first locked down I was still far away in Merrie Olde England, consoling My Grief at the passing of dear St. Baroness Thatcher by ministering to a couple of most enterprising young Christians whom I met in a small theatre in Soho. (Who could have possibly guessed that the fall of immoral Communism would result in the relocation of so many creative liturgical dancers to London?) I had just delivered My moving eulogy at Saint Maggie’s funeral, in which I focused not so much upon how much her personal family values accomplished for communities in the north of the country, where she is undoubtedly loved and missed most, as I did on the bold manner in which she squandered the Britain’s North Sea oil wealth in pursuit of an ideological obsession. After which I reminisced about
her close personal friendship with the equally lamented young people’s entertainer Jimmy Saville, as well as
her tireless work on behalf of the Eastern European cancer industry.
So you can well imagine My amazement at finding upon My return to Ichabod Springs that the innovative and profitable Ministry I’d established just prior to leaving had fallen foul of a Godless piece of legislation called “The Patriot Act” - obviously something introduced by Obama and is cabal of Israel-loving Muslims. Who could have ever believed that something as innocent as a Biblically-sound initiative transhipping superphosphates to tribesmen in Afghanistan and Iraq (at a charitable 150% mark-up) would one day be considered treason? Here we were, helping ignorant heathens develop chemically-driven agriculture in the fervent prayer that one day their children would be able to enjoy the same tasteless tomatoes as we do, when suddenly the Perverted Atheists who control Washington were accusing us of supporting the manufacture of explosives in so-called-nations opposed to everything Jesus stood for – such lower taxes and an end to welfare for single mothers.
Unfortunately My protestations that the people we were assisting weren’t enemies at all (on account of them also not liking women in leadership or homosexualists) weren’t helped by Bishop Quinine explaining that this particular Parish Ministry had absolutely nothing to do with trade in armaments and explosives, which are handled by an entirely different Mission registered in the Seychelles and operating out of Lichtenstein. In fact for a while things were looking quite dark indeed for the light on the hill which is St. Onuphrius’.
But it takes more than the world's greatest superpower to keep this Doctrinal Warrior from Proclaiming the gospel, and during the course of a friendly interrogation session the senior investigator let slip the fact that he was himself the child of a Manse, and had some experience of the ways in which a Parish operates. At which point I realized he’d believe me implicitly if I blamed
everything on My miserable excuse for a Curate, Evangelical Eric.
Sure enough, My plan worked! The investigator really had been raised the son of a Rector, for he fully understood the truth of My explanation that
whatever goes wrong in a Church – be it, big, small, or cataclysmic and involving nipple clamps and the entire Altar Guild –
IT’S ALWAYS THE CURATE’S FAULT!!!
And so, after Evangelical Eric obediently confirmed his guilt while being independently water-boarded by officers serving one of The Land of the Free’s dearest allies in the War on Terror, the St. Onuphrius’ Ministry Team are once more able to browse the intertubes in a faithful commitment to expose the evil lurking in men’s loins. Which is, I know you will all appreciate, the Greatest Christmas Present the World has ever received. Except, perhaps, for some small insignificant event a couple of thousand years ago involving a manger and a baby of dubious legitimacy. Whom I and the Conservatives who imitate Me promise to keep doing Our best to help everyone forget about.
I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
