Well then chop-chop on that Rob Roy. And let’s go with dry vermouth this time.
Now, where was I? Say, you’re a cutie. Come around here often? You’re my youth group pastor? And this is your husband Shaun?
Well, I’ll be. Never seen you in a pair of tight jeans before. Bet those longsuffering teenagers get chubbies left and right. I bet Shaunie here already knows that—in the biblical sense. Heh.
Hey! Ow, that hurt! Barkeep, an icepack, si’l vous plait. Man, you pack quite the right hook. You’re right I’m drunk. And damn well have a good reason at that.
Mrs. Pillow just left me. Not me, mind you, but Cubic Zirconium Cathedral Ministries, Inc. She sent me a letter through her attorney saying she’s sold all her shares in CZCM and is donating them to Glory Holy Ministries—you know, that wang Bear who runs The Golden Rule.
Then she told me she was hopping the first plane to Jerusalem to go visit the tomb of the Holy Sepulcher, then planned on doing medical mission work in Liberia for a while.
She says Jesus appeared to her in a dream and told her to get her house in order before he returns on a cloud of marshmallow crème or something like that. Can you believe she believes that crap?!
Yeah, well, Nic Cage appeared to me in Gone in 60 Seconds and told me—wait, maybe that was Left Behind. Which is the one with the demon on a bicycle? Anyway, he appeared to me and told me to go get hammered. Wait, Leaving Las Vegas, I think.
Bartender, let’s do a round of Ullr, two three ways.
Golly gee, doesn’t that spouse of mine realize we’re running the best grift since Oral Roberts here? Oral. Heh. Say, where did my youth pastor go?
Well, guess it’s just you, me and this pathetic excuse for a bartender.
Say, that’s a nice tunic you have there. What do you do for a living? A carpenter, are you? Well, you better be careful handling a nail gun with all that loose fabric. How’s business these days? Are we finally over the sub-prime slump? God knows how many millions in contractor offerings I’ve lost.
So what do you do on the side for fun? Fish? Damn, I haven’t been fishing since we spent Third Offering on a deep sea fishing expedition off Key West a few years back. Say, did you know that Hemingway had polydactyl cats?
Well, I’m about to call it a night and a cab. But before I go, I don’t suppose I could interest you in snatching up an annual membership to our End Times Theme Park? I’m telling you, you haven’t lived until you’ve strolled with the family up and down Millennialism Midway. We’ve got a Chiliasm Corkscrew and Tribulation Flume. Listen, here’s a roll of tickets—you can redeem them for a four-foot-tall Beast of the Sea plush doll.
Right about now, a Whore of Babylon blow-up doll sounds about right.
Anyway, what did you say your name was? Joshua? Well, Joshua, you have yourself a pleasant evening. Come on by the CZ Cathedral sometime. Here’s a VIP Parking Card—used to be Mrs. Pillow’s—comes with complimentary valet service.
What’s that? Do unto others as you would have others do unto you? Oh, good one.
I’ll one up you: Greed is good.
Please open your hymnals to No. 85.
Here’s a hope that those soft arms will twine
Tenderly, trustingly soon around mine
All I ask is the right to see
Those smiling eyes beguiling me
Behold, the Christian Right Weekly Round-Up.
5. Move Over Howard the Duck—You’ve Got Competition, over at Christianity Today: “Left Behind: Not a ‘Christian Movie.’ Not Even Close”
I knew for some time that a Hollywood studio was planning to release a major film, with Nic Cage in the lead, based on the bestselling, eschatological Left Behind series that was penned by authors Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. Well, Left Behind is finally in theatres.
And right there I want to apologize to the words “studio,” “bestselling,” “authors,” “film,” and “theatres.” None of those words deserve to be associated with either the fiction series nor this film—and Christianity Today’s film critic Jackson Cuidon will back me on this statement. (Lord knows I’ve lampooned CT’s movie reviews in the past; this time we’re hand in hand.)
I have never seen a film critic admit to entering a film determined to hate it. I’ll top Cuidon though: I’m going to review the film without even seeing it. I would rather watch Showgirls dubbed in Slovakian while covered in peanut sauce and rolled over red ant mounds than see this movie. It is terrible by its very corrupt nature.
There is, quite honestly, part of me that wants to revoke the voting rights of any person who attends this movie—with the exception of the poor sap critics assigned to watch and review it.
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