Punk of the Week Award
Yes! Time again for the Punk of the Week Award, where we highlight the best in Punkness (or Punkosity) this past week and expose that Punkery for all the non-Punk world to see.
This week's Punk of the Week is the "Reverend" Pat Robertson of Virginia Beach, VA. Take a bow, Crazy Pat. Now, most of the people who put consider themselves the messengers of Immanence on Earth usually earn my contempt or pity (contempt for their stupidity, pity for their delusions), but Robertson and the rest of the slimy breed known as televangelists have a special place on my Too Stupid To Be Allowed To Reproduce List.
Televangelists have been with us in one form or another since Billy Sunday (who tried to 'pray away' the Influenza Pandemic of 1918, despite people falling out in the pews as he spoke) and Aimee Semple MacPherson (who went so far as to allegedly fake her own kidnapping in order to increase the size of her flock). As the great Maestro Driftglass has pointed out, none of these greedy bastards ever apologize - except when sex is involved.
Then they get all vaporish, as Jimmy Swaggart did when he wept crocodile tears and sobbed, "I have sinned against you." What utter tripe. The only two things Swaggart was guilty of was being indiscreet and being a bad consumer (honestly, who rents a hooker and just talks to her?!).
Jim Bakker's only "sin" in screwing Jessica Hahn was in not dumping his mascara-soaked bloated sow of a wife for the curvaceous Ms. Hahn. 'Nuff said.
These wealthy pukes are now deep into politics, and have the ear (some say the balls) of most of the Administration - including Condi Rice. Which doesn't make them any less odious, because now they want to impose their stupid superstition-driven American Taliban Vision Of An American Religious Empire on the rest of us. Now, just because their vision of deity is at variance with most of ours gives them a huge victim's mentality with which they curry favor and sympathy and cause most people to leave them alone so they'll stop whining about Christianity being a "minority" in this huge country.
Which is a bit off subject.
Crazy Pat let his huge smirking muscled piehole overload whatever good sense he might have had earlier this week, calling for the assassination of President Hugo Chavez of Venezuela. At first he tried to pull the Wool of the Virgin (as opposed to virgin wool, as if any sheep is safe when he's around) over our eyes and told us that he never said "assassinate." Well, welcome to the 21st Century, Crazy Pat - people have recorders now. So he did what so many religious, business, media and political figures do nowadays.
He apologized, saying that he had been "misinterpreted."
You have to stand in absolute Awe of such outstanding Punkery.
This week's Punk of the Week is the "Reverend" Pat Robertson of Virginia Beach, VA. Take a bow, Crazy Pat. Now, most of the people who put consider themselves the messengers of Immanence on Earth usually earn my contempt or pity (contempt for their stupidity, pity for their delusions), but Robertson and the rest of the slimy breed known as televangelists have a special place on my Too Stupid To Be Allowed To Reproduce List.
Televangelists have been with us in one form or another since Billy Sunday (who tried to 'pray away' the Influenza Pandemic of 1918, despite people falling out in the pews as he spoke) and Aimee Semple MacPherson (who went so far as to allegedly fake her own kidnapping in order to increase the size of her flock). As the great Maestro Driftglass has pointed out, none of these greedy bastards ever apologize - except when sex is involved.
Then they get all vaporish, as Jimmy Swaggart did when he wept crocodile tears and sobbed, "I have sinned against you." What utter tripe. The only two things Swaggart was guilty of was being indiscreet and being a bad consumer (honestly, who rents a hooker and just talks to her?!).
Jim Bakker's only "sin" in screwing Jessica Hahn was in not dumping his mascara-soaked bloated sow of a wife for the curvaceous Ms. Hahn. 'Nuff said.
These wealthy pukes are now deep into politics, and have the ear (some say the balls) of most of the Administration - including Condi Rice. Which doesn't make them any less odious, because now they want to impose their stupid superstition-driven American Taliban Vision Of An American Religious Empire on the rest of us. Now, just because their vision of deity is at variance with most of ours gives them a huge victim's mentality with which they curry favor and sympathy and cause most people to leave them alone so they'll stop whining about Christianity being a "minority" in this huge country.
Which is a bit off subject.
Crazy Pat let his huge smirking muscled piehole overload whatever good sense he might have had earlier this week, calling for the assassination of President Hugo Chavez of Venezuela. At first he tried to pull the Wool of the Virgin (as opposed to virgin wool, as if any sheep is safe when he's around) over our eyes and told us that he never said "assassinate." Well, welcome to the 21st Century, Crazy Pat - people have recorders now. So he did what so many religious, business, media and political figures do nowadays.
He apologized, saying that he had been "misinterpreted."
You have to stand in absolute Awe of such outstanding Punkery.
posted by Walt at 12:12 PM
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