Sneaky Dobby! Bad Elf!

My Dearly Beloved Sinners:
Some of you may already be aware that little Dobby Ould - one of the Jensen Family's impressive collection of house-elves - has started redirecting links from this blog, probably in a pathetic attempt to save costs on bandwidth given his master's recent spectacular misplacement of a few dollars; something which could easily happen to any clergyman, but not surprisingly hasn't.

Instead of permitting my dearly beloved evil-doers to view Dobby (also known as David Ould for the purposes of getting this post to show up in Google searches) and his novel refutations of reason and its role in Anglicanism, my links are instead pointing on to a video of Dobby's favorite artist performing what his Master considers traditional liturgical song.

Naturally it takes more than that to defeat the World's Greatest Doctrinal Warrior, and until Dobby's Master orders him to display a little more maturity, and a little less fear of those whose minds and spirituality didn't come down in the last shower, Dobby's site will first pass through an anonymous redirection service.

You can read more about these services here - or if you'd rather visit David Ould directly (thank you again Google!) just paste www.davidould.net (and again!) directly into a new browser window and find your own way to whatever it is I'm talking about.

I'm Father Christian and nothing stops me teaching the Bible.

How dare anyone doubt Dobby Ould!!

As Evangelical Eric will tell anyone who asks, I am a peaceful man; gentle, tolerant, and slow to anger. I abhor violence, and I’m not ashamed to say I’ll personally thrash the living daylights out of anyone who says otherwise. Yet something’s happened to get my doctrinally-pure old blood boiling, and unless something drastic happens heads will roll, even if I have to travel to other side of the world to make them.

Faithful sinners will recall my recently announcing that little Peter Jensen’s accidental misplacement of a paltry one hundred million dollars of his parishioners’ hard-earned assets. As I probably said at the time, accidents will happen, and anyone can lose that sort of money. Afterall, the world’s favorite pseudo-primate could have easily left it on the bus while travelling home from Bible study. Or perhaps it was stolen by a passing kangaroo, or a dingo: I believe things like that happen all the time down there.

Following my homily, delivered out of compassion for those whom like big Pete Akinola have been left devastated by their sugar-daddy’s loss of his diocese’s most important contribution to the Glorious Global Schism, one of the Jensens’ house elves, a delightful little pixie known around the world as Dobby Ould posted on behalf of his owners the definitive statement on the matter at Viagraville.

This should have been the end of things: the usual Viagravillains made the usual appropriate noises; Mari explained how after Googling around for a while she’d discovered that in 1934 an Australian named Jefferson Scorey was charged with investment fraud, and wasn’t this too much of a co-incidence to be co-incidental? Then somebody followed up with a story about homosexual liberals secretly wanting to take his guns, and a moderator warned them about all straying off-topic. Then the exquisite little harpy from South Carolina brought a measure of balance to the whole affair, explaining that since Australian liberals are all billionaires they couldn’t care less about losing the money, but were really just using the whole affair as an excuse to criticize a fine Conservative who just happens to believe she shouldn’t be permitted to read the Bible aloud when in the presence of a man. And that Viagraville would never attack +KJS if she misplaced a similar amount.

But now the troubles unfortunately began. A great number of Dobby Ould’s Sydney readers are prohibited from visiting Viagraville on the account of the very real danger they might catch Anglo-Catholic germs (which they fear almost as much as Gay Cooties) from some of the sub-Christians gathered there, or at very least come into contact with those holding to such heretical notions as a belief in the Efficacy of the Sacraments, or Infant Baptism. Thus he’s obliged to also post any approved squeezings on his own blog, where the local elect can read them without risking accidental contact with anything historically Anglican.

And it has been on this same Portal of Puritanism (my little friend is clearly trying to protect readers from his critic's wickedness, so he's trying to block links from here. Consequently you'll be detoured via an anonymizer. Yes, I know... but you've got to understand house-elves are twitchy little creatures) that an outrageous, wicked apostate Vegemite encrusted son-of-perdition has dared to keep asking questions! Not only has he the impudence to question Lord Jensen’s wisdom on his own disgraceful blog, he even pesters an obvious better about the same paltry issue on their own exegetically infallible pulpit.

Normally I enjoy watching Moore College graduates quarrel: it’s like cock-fighting but legal since the combatants lack the same degree of sentience. Yet this (ditto) is simply disgraceful. Time after time little Dobby explains (sigh - but at least his master will be proud) how Sydney is run along perfectly fair and democratic lines, and that it’s simply a blessing of God (in much the same way as occurred in the recent Iranian elections) that only those whose surname is “Jensen” happen to win everything, and time and again his terrible antagonist dares suggest that processes might be somewhat less than perfectly accessible to all believers, and wonders why the Archbishop won’t deign to answer such esoteric questions as “How did you lose our money?”

As I’ve said, the whole performance is sickening, and Dobby should immediately beg his master to order some of The Family's clumsier members to pay this troublemaker a visit. Everyone knows Orthodox GAFCON heroes can do whatever they damn well want to with their diocese’s money. So they choose to gamble it? So what: their intentions were good and who is anyone to say the end wouldn't have justified the means? Further, just because any process systematically excludes those not agreeing with the men in charge, or who refuse to lie about their sexuality, or happen to be women not prepared to sit at the back of the bus and remain silent until spoken to doesn’t mean it’s not democratic!!!

Will somebody please club those basic facts of Bible-believing ministry into that rogue's dreadful duck-noodle filled head? Fiercely and painfully, but in love, of course.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Transparency Jensen-style

When it comes to discussing little Pete Jensen and his developmentally delayed family of Sydney Anglicans there’s no secret about the fact that I’d rather shift the conversation to more uplifting topics like bestiality or tropical skin disease. Yet sometimes there’s no alternative for Bible-believing Christians other than to face their objectionable cousins from the south square-on.

After all, not even a creative genius like little Martyn Minns can come up with all of ++Akinola’s ramblings, so it’s important that those of us in the rest of the Communion keep an eye on who else is writing the great wise man of GAFCON's cue-cards. Otherwise there’s no telling how many folk might start believing the future of North American Christianity really does lay with Nigeria – and where’s little Bobby Duncan’s dream going to be if that idea catches on?

And mark my words, while the world has gone into an uproar over Sydney’s latest delusion of orthodoxy, little Pete has managed to slip something smelly underneat everyone’s doormat. The final paragraph of this piece from the Church Times makes public what the world’s favourite nepotist would rather have kept private; that the Sydney synod has “made provision of appropriate financial support to enable Archbishop Jensen to adequately discharge his responsibilities as Honorary Secretary to the GAFCON Primates’ Council.”

In other words, and as I’ve said before, admin and communication costs for the glorious world-wide schism are now funded by the faithful putting their pennies in Sydney offertory plates. Which means it’s a safe bet that much as his bold fellow Gafconeers detest little Pete’s Eucharistic doctrine of the Real Absence, none of them are going to give more than the mildest of squeaks in protest at this particular tear in the Communion’s fabled fabric.

What’s more, you’ve got to admire the grip he’s got on his flock: how many other organisations give their beloved leader permission to spend whatever it takes to “adequately discharge his responsibilities” with no further accountability? We’re talking Kim Jong-il, Robert Mugabe, and just possibly David Virtue, but that’s about it. Sure, it can’t take much in real terms to buy off some the flakier nations on the world’s least stable continent, but just think how much enough pâté de foie gras to stop Layman Schofield whinging must cost. Nor bother trying to kid yourself about that being just a one-off expenditure either.

No, if there’s one thing to be said for the Anglo-Catholic members of GAFCON it’s this: that they’re all certainly men who stand by their principles. And when it comes to the Sacraments it’s wonderful to see them put them being put second to the greatest principle of all – money talks loudest

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

There goes Peter Jensen-tail, hopping down the money trail..

Since calling everyone's attention to the danger that asking questions about little Peter Jensen's secretive funding of GAFCON poses to a number of worthy Primate's bankrolls and frequent-flyers accounts my email has been positively running over.

However as our internet access still depends upon us tapping into the Methodist's wireless account, it’s taking me longer than I would like to reply to everyone. I must ask everyone to be patient, and please be assured that I am indeed finding all the correspondence most interesting.

So far most letters fall into one of three categories: those from disgruntled members of little Pete’s flock, who dare to resent his right to spend their money on stirring up trouble in everyone else’s dioceses, especially given that his own is beginning to experience all sorts of problems which local worshippers are not allowed to discuss; those from people who’ve been busily following the GAFCON money trail for themselves, in the course of which they seem to be finding all manner of fascinating things hiding under rocks; and those from Jensen family members and their bond-servants, who in their folly appear solely concerned with questioning my spiritual parentage and motives.

It’s this last group that I find the most entertaining. All offering variations of the same deluded theme involving my wickedness and utter separation from Grace, they all have one other thing in common - Not one of them mentions the money!

This cone of silence extends to the Sydney Anglican web site. Despite having a forum in which Australian newspapers are routinely criticized for their anti-Christian bias, this particular article might just as well not exist. Not a peep. Which is indeed most impressive – not even I can keep my entire flock from bleating out of turn occasionally.

There has been one small slip, however. The day after I drew everyone’s attention to this grave threat to Global Anglican mischief-making the Sydney Anglican media officer issued a glowing piece in support of ex-Bishop Bobby Duncan, which just happened to mention in the very last paragraph that “the Sydney standing committee commended Archbishop Jensen for his work with GAFCON saying it strongly supports his involvement and encourages his efforts as honourary secretary of the Primates council.”

Honorary secretary??!!! Can’t you just see him curled up across Big Pete Akinola’s knee taking dictation? While sitting in an office that the Anglicans of Sydney have paid for!!! I’ll say one thing for little Pete’s serfs; they may be more secretive than North Korea, and financially wackier than Lehman Brothers, but they sure do know how to make us all laugh!

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Quick Little Pete - Hide the Money!

“From little things, big things grow”: it was while meditating on a poppy seed that this timeless wisdom came into my Great-uncle’s mind, inspiring him to establish the opium farms which subsequently funded his famous Far Eastern Mission to Bar Girls. It’s a truism which has in turn always guided my own ministry, although I often prefer to rephrase it as “Watch out for the little ones – they’ll cause the most trouble”.

This is why I have always taken it upon myself to watch out for the noisy little trouble-makers in the corner of the room: while everyone’s got their eye on the Akinola-shaped elephant trumpeting on the carpet there’s invariably a Sugden picking pockets in the corners – and I should know, since many is the happy evening I’ve spent joining his type in their merry activities.

Thus while the whole world has been fixated upon ex-Bishop Duncan, my finely-tuned ecclesiastic instinct has drawn me to sniff out what’s happening at the other end of the world, and to be honest it’s something sure to set the Confessing Primates’ knees trembling – and not for the reasons they usually enjoy.

By way of background, readers must understand that the GAFCON (or whatever they’re called this week) top echelon doesn’t include little Pete Jensen: since he’s only a Metropolitan, and not a Primate, they couldn’t bring themselves to dilute their exalted splendour by including a near layman in their inner-clique. Yet since the exalted ones were all well aware their need for +Jensen’s vast resources of hot sweaty lucre, they decided to come up with a way of including him.

The solution was, on the surface, brilliant: the new organization’s “Secretariat” would be in Sydney. Personally I’ve always thought the Jensen brothers would look lovely dressed as secretaries – sort of like Tweedledum and Tweedledee crossed with Miss. Moneypenny - but the idea went a lot deeper than just a little playful cross-dressing. By incorporating GAFCON’s administration into Sydney’s already substantial administrative machine all associated costs could be hidden from prying eyes, while at the same time ensuring money earmarked for frivolities like servers, web-design and travel don’t get frittered away on essentials like a really good night out on the town for the lads in Lagos, or a shiny new set of monogrammed machetes.

The one flaw, however, was something that little Pete didn’t think worth mentioning to his new big friends, namely that he’s no more in charge of what happens in the Australian church than ex-Bishop Bobbie could call the shots in the HOB. And that the rest of the country – who have a legal hold on little Pete’s substantial property assets much tighter than anything Presiding Bishop Schiori could ever dream of having over her renegades – wouldn’t take kindly to Sydney developing an alternative “communion” on their own front-doorstep.

Perhaps because he’s so used to keeping everything in his own small pond so tightly locked down that he couldn’t imagine anyone might start asking questions, or perhaps because any of little Pete’s employees not family members are bond-servants so firmly indentured that they long ago lost any ability to think for themselves, but little Pete simply thought he could keep the nature and extent of his involvement a secret. There wasn’t any mention of his new “Secretariat” on the Sydney Anglican web site, it certainly wasn’t referred to in any Diocesan publicity material, and even clergy – never mind parishioners – were kept blissfully unaware of their Archbishop’s major new role on the stage of global schism. Nor were any of them told how much this exercise in Anglican brinkmanship costs: everything has been structured to run beneath the Jensen brother’s not inconsiderable desks.

Except that one or two nosey sinners just happened to notice that the “Primates Council” mailing address just happens to be a box at the same post-office that the Sydney Anglican Diocese just happens to use. A box that just happens to belong to the Sydney Anglican Diocese.

To make matters worse, those same sinners have started making an almighty racket about what they’ve found; so much so that Australia’s leading newspaper has now shared little Pete’s secret with the whole world. Which has resulted in troublemakers elsewhere in the country preparing to ask little Pete the same sort of questions in General Synod that resulted in the former Right Reverend Pittsburgh being shown the door.

None of which should need concern Bible-believers elsewhere, since what’s a little collateral damage on the other side of the world if at the end of the day we win the war? Except that losing Sydney would be much more than collateral damage; few people realise just how much money our brethren down under have to squander in pursuit of global Puritanism. The combination of having been for more than two centuries the sole voice of establishment religion, and an investment strategy that’s gained them more commercial real estate than Donald Trump, has left Sydney Diocese positively wallowing in money – as their new friends around the world well know. Take it from me: the lunar-catholics of Forward in Faith aren’t supporting +Jensen because they like the color of his business shirts.

Should the wicked liberals of the national Australian Anglican church take the cookie jar away from little Pete – or even just force a small measure of accountability – Akinola Airways won’t keep flying for so much as a day. And as for little whats-his-name from Rwanda; does anyone really think he’s ever paid for his own ticket to anywhere? No, you’d better believe that none of us have heard the last of this story, which has far more potential to knock the GAFCON wagon of the rails that anything Canterbury has come up with so far.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.