As you will remember, the Rapture was on Saturday. If you followed my instructions, you are no doubt living it up in Paradise with the rest of us good Christians. However, let's face it, most of you are irredeemable bastards, so I thought I should keep a diary of my experiences since being Raptured. I started the diary at 6pm Saturday, when the blessed event happened. Some of my observations were already shared on Twitter, but this is a more comprehensive, no-holds-barred, frank look at life in Heaven that I hope you find enlightening and instructive as you dodge molten lava and have Satan nibble your earlobes while waiting for the destruction of the universe. Welcome!
BEN POBJIE'S EXCLUSIVE PRIVATE RAPTURE DIARY!
Saturday, 21st May
6pm: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
6.01pm: I feel that travelling at this speed while naked is not healthy. A distinct flapping effect.
6.03pm: From up here, everyone looks like ants. Ironically, the ants look extremely large. Asked David Attenborough why as he floated past on an updraft. He explained that at this height, the ants' natural ascorbic acid creates a prism effect, making them look over three thousand times their actual size. I had a follow-up question but he started accusing me of staring at his "manly jolly-parts", so I didn't press the issue.
6.06pm: Well, here we are. A lot of people standing around looking a bit lost. Everyone covering their crotches with their hands, or magazines. Asked the man next to me where you get the magazines. He looked very shifty and ran away.
6.10pm: Some angels have appeared and given us clothes. In Heaven you get to wear whatever you want, but until we're checked in we all have to wear Jedi robes. There seems to be no explanation for this, but we're all afraid to ask because the head angel looks really mean. Well to be fair he doesn't really look mean but he has a very off-putting mole right between his eyes. So it seems mean to call him mean but I bet he is because that mole would make anyone bitter. The angels are herding us towards the check-in desk.
6.12pm: The concierge here is VERY rude.
6.15pm: Having checked in, we are each given a room. My room is quite nice and has a view of the river (not sure which one). Unfortunately though, everyone has to share a toilet. My toilet is shared with Scott Stapp, the singer from Creed. I foresee this causing problems in future.
6.45pm: Relaxing in the common room. From some of the behaviour here, frankly I am surprised these people got Raptured at all. Kirk Cameron just whispered in my ear that he is "bi-curious". Don't know what to do with this information. Spared having to make decision on the spot because Kirk was distracted by Fred Nile's elephant impression.
7pm: Before dinner was summoned to God's office for post-Rapture debrief. God looks much as I expected he would, but wears horn-rimmed glasses. Also he has the feet of a weasel for some reason. He asked me if I would like some tea, and I accepted, which made him cry. "We have no tea," he kept moaning over and over. It was a bit usnettling, but he got over it, and asked me how I liked Heaven so far. I said it was great, but the towels in my room were a little small. He promised to look into it, but in a very sarcastic tone, so I don't know. I asked him what people in Heaven did for fun. He said chia pets were very popular. We then spent about a minute just sort of staring tenseley at each other. Finally God gave me a kiss and told me he was happy I was there and to see him if I ever needed anything. I asked him for a coffee and he punched me. On the way out of his office I ran into Jesus, who tried to sell me a capgun. I didn't have any money so I couldn't. Jesus called me a girl, but I think he was just over-tired.
7.30pm: Dinner time! We assembled in the mess hall for dinner. Dinner was a little late, which went down badly with some of the Raptured. In particular, George Pell becamse very rambunctious, banging his fork on the table and making loud shrieking noises until a basket of bread was brought to his table. When menus arrived, disappointed to discover that in Heaven you have a choice between two dishes: tuna or devon sandwiches. I asked an angel whether it was the same every night; he said on Friday nights you get a chicken stock cube.
7.45pm: Dinner becoming very tedious. Partly because the tablecloths show such a lack of flair; mainly because I am seated next to the Archangel Gabriel, who has been monopolising the conversation by reciting his list of reasons That 80s Show should be brought back. I tried to break the monotony by asking about his wife, but he didn't even seem to notice me.
8pm: Frankly, this devon is sub-par.
8.21pm: After dinner we adjourn to the recreation area. It is becoming apparent that there is a certain amount of tension between the pre-dead and the Raptured, or "Rapties", as they call us. I was discussing this issue with Guy Sebastian, and he said it was just because Daryl Somers had spent the whole time since he got here naked rubbing himself against the Bronte sisters, but I think it goes deeper. It's racism, IMO.
8.34pm: Cliff Richard is drunk already. He's strutting around the hot tub, telling everyone he's changed his name to Lovepistol von Gigglepants, and demanding chicken Twisties.Jesus is having a word to him, but Cliff keeps poking his belly and making Jesus laugh. I don't know why Jesus is so ticklish.
9pm: Back to my room. It's lights out at 10pm, which seems unfair. And also pointless given that in Heaven everyone has night vision. Trying to program my clock radio, which seems needlessly complicated. I tested the alarm and was nearly frightened to death when a porcelain Virgin Mary shot out the top of the clock and squirted breast milk in my face. Hard to concentrate because of the sound of Scott Stapp gargling in the bathroom. He asked if I wanted to come gargle with him, but I said I didn't actually know what that would entail. He said it would be incredibly painful so I said no.
9.23pm: Just about to turn in for the night when I discovered Rene Goscinny in there. Says he's doing "research" and will be finished soon. Give up and go out drinking with Charlemagne.
9.30pm: Charlemagne is not all he's cracked up to be. Keeps yelling out to women, asking if they want to see his scar. Wasn't so bad until he said it to Jennifer Aniston. Now she thinks I'm a weirdo because I'm his friend.
9.36pm: Heaven's drinks selection is incredibly limited. There are only three brands of beer, or milk. Admittedly up here milk gives you superpowers, but still.
9.57pm: Cliff Richard has reached the maudlin stage. Keeps telling me I remind him of his mother and asking me if I'll go on a rowboating holiday with him. Said yes just to shut him up, hope he doesn't remember this tomorrow.
10.34pm: Back in my room. Stapp STILL gargling! Has he been doing it non-stop? He must have taken at least a short break, because he is now wearing a cowboy outfit. Asked him why, he said "Jesus told me to". If we weren't in Heaven would be inclined to disbelieve this.
10.39pm: Goscinny still in my bed. Refuses to get out. Says if I get in "just to cuddle", he'll put me in the new Asterix book. Why do people lie so much in Heaven?
11pm: Can't sleep. Miranda Devine throwing pebbles at my window.
11.03pm: Miranda will not give up. Has started yelling, asking if I want "Seven Minutes In Heaven". Leaned out to tell her how inappaopriate this was, and saw things I never want to see again.
11.34pm: Finally asleep. Not sure how I'm writing this. It's a Heaven thing I guess.
Sunday, 22nd May
3am: Had a fright. Turns out Heaven has a rule where seraphs get free access to all mini-bars. Woke up to a bunch of angels fighting over a can of Pepsi and a Kit-Kat.
7am: Woken up by Jesus storming into the bedroom, banging a saucepan with a spoon and screaming "On your feet, Cocks!" No idea why, since once we were up he just made us stand in a field for an hour. Asked him what we were supposed to be doing, he said, "Looking for animal shapes in the clouds". Didn't feel I could ask any more questions after that.
8.30am: Breakfast time. Everyone gets rice bubbles. I asked if I could have some honey, but the waitress just laughed. Seemed strange, but then I realised the waitress was Katharine Hepburn, which made a lot more sense.
9am: Had some free time, so wandered about the place taking stock. There are some lovely landscaped gardens in Heaven, though I feel they should install some surveillance cameras given the number of drug deals being done openly about the place. Passed a bush where Elvis and Marie Curie were frantically copulating. Found this less strange than I would have expected.
9.24am: Not surprised that Mother Teresa is here. A little surprised that she's working the main floor at a motor show.
9.35am: Dropped in on a concert in the park. God encourages musical expression in Heaven, but the only music he likes is Joshua Kadison. This was the subject of quite an argument last night, when Elton John asked if he could put on a show, and God agreed as long as he only played the songs of Joshua Kadison. Elton became very angry, but God won the argument by saying, "I know what you get up to at night", and twisting Elton's nipple really hard. Anyway this morning Elton is playing in the park. The only song he knows is "Jessie", so he's playing that a lot, but his delivery is great. Ironically, Joshua Kadison himself was left behind. Asked Jesus why this was, and he told me it was a "motor skills thing".
10am: Playing netball. This is apparently compulsory in Heaven, seven days a week. God is the umpire. He seems to enjoy the job a little bit too much.
11.30am: Still playing netball. Exhausting.
12am: Finally lunchtime. We don't eat lunch in the mess hall, but rather in Jesus's Dinner Theatre, which means we have to listen to his stand-up while we eat. He's pretty awful - mostly relying on obscene actions with the holes in his hands, and a lot of jokes about Stalin. For some reason he thinks Stalin is incredibly funny. Quite relieved when he finishes and St Peter comes on with his performing puppies.
1.30pm: More netball.
2.30pm: Was ushered into a seminar: "Heaven: Your New Home", where we learned about Heaven. I was sat next to Fred Nile. Tried to strike up a conversation, but he was sulking because Kirk Cameron had put the moves on me and not him. Keeps carving "I H8 Ben" in his desk with a compass. The lecture was very informative though. We found out the system of government in Heaven is basically Republican, where God is the president, Jesus is Prime Minister, and Jane Austen is Foreign Secretary.
2.55pm: Met Jane Austen. Asked her why Heaven needed a Foreign Secretary. She stuck two fingers up my nose and threw me into a wall. "Any more questions, bitch?" she hissed.
3.18pm: Time for the Daily 3.18 Prayers. We all gather on the Prayer Diamond and throw confetti at God while he does burnouts on his motorbike.
4pm. Stopped in for tea with Stephen Hawking. He told me he still doesn't believe in an afterlife. I told him he was in denial. He said he refuses to accept the evidence of his own eyes and will only accept proofs in manila folders. It was weird to hear him talking without his voicebox. I never knew he had a Jamaican accent.
4.58pm: Nasty incident in the common room, Einstein just referred to Archbishop Jensen as "Raptie scum". Jensen pulled a knife and things look like getting ugly.
6pm: We're all in the common room, still shaken after the rumble in the common room. Justin Bieber just got his guitar out and started a singalong of "Beautiful in My Eyes", but our hearts just aren't in it. Einstein's gashed thigh just keeps rising in our brains.
8pm: Dinner still hasn't arrived. Rumours of a chefs' strike are sweeping the hall. Julia Child is said to be demanding greater leave loading. Heston Blumenthal is standing on his table urinating on people. Anarchy looms. Jesus came in to try to keep the peace, but retreated under a blizzard of fortune cookies.
8.28pm: Dinner finally here. We are eating in an atmosphere of sullen rebellion. God wandering round the hall muttering "Second day and already everything's gone to bloody buggery". The Virgin Mary keeps making desperate attempts to lighten the mood with references to Waldorf Salad. Nobody's buying it. Particularly not Prunella Scales, who's been demanding to be return to earth since she got here.
9pm: Retired to bed. Have worked out a system with Goscinny whereby I cuddle him for half an hour, then he has to get into the wardrobe and let me sleep. He says my character's name will be "Beneficix".
9.15pm: Can faintly hear Miranda down the road, yelling at Hugh Grant. Can faintly hear Taylor Hanson in the next room, tattooing his brothers in their sleep. Uncomfortable. Jesus short-sheeted my bed. I think it was retaliation for my mistaking him for Sophie B. Hawkins yesterday.
9.35pm: Finally it's quiet. Feel myself drifting off to sleep, to my great relief, since tomorrow we start "basic training". Not sure what this means, but noticed St Paul squatting outside the information centre fingering a machete. A bit nervous.
Monday, 23rd May
2.46pm: For fuck's sake, that dickhead is gargling AGAIN.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Monday, May 23, 2011
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Commenting on comments
You may have noticed on my latest ABC article that there are quite a few comments. Do take the time to trawl through them - diamonds they are. Anyway, having (belatedly) become smart enough to avoid arguing with stupid people who hate me, I'm going to muse on some of the comments here.
For example, "shane" writes:
"Anybody who follows Jesus as Lord & savoir according to the bible are saints"
Kind of a low standard, isn't it?
"If you pray to dead people this is called necromancy"
You mean like...Jesus?
"fed up" writes:
"Well i dont find this funny at all"
Damn...I've failed with a key demographic here.
"how sarcastic.
mr. Rudd has been going to Marys Chapel for some time
WHY O WHY ARE THE ABC PICKING ON OUR P.M.
SO MUCH ARE YOU ALL SERIOUS
CAN YOU DO BETTER AT COPENHAGEN I SUGGEST YOU CATCH THE NEXT PLANE
mary has anwered many a prayer for me you may laugh but i hope you dont need to prayer her soon for something that comes in your life.
i am fed up of the abc taking the mickey out of every one that does good in this country in couding out p.m TALL POPPY SYNDROM ITS ABOUT TIME THIS COUNTRY GREW UP
of course you all write this rubbish but then do you move on to the next thing without reading what we saY.
I WOULD SUGGEST TO OTHERS AND MYSELF NOT TO BOTHER BECAUSE I DOUBT YOU READ WHAT WE SAY.
AND IF WE DID NOT MAKE COMMENTS THEN THERE WOULD BE NO DRUM SO FROM NOW ON I AM NOT COMMENTING"
Now that my career has been destroyed by the mass grassroots "no commenting" movement, I guess I have some free time. So yeah, I WILL get on the next plane. And I will give those pollies a talking to, "in couding out p.m."
Hopefully the plane doesn't run into trouble, or I might have to prayer Mary MacKillop for something that comes in my life.
And then there's "Dazza":
"First of all God does not make mistakes, it is our fallen world that has caused all of this."
I wonder, when I hear someone express this sentiment, if you put the person in a nice quiet room and just left them there, without interruptions, for an indefinite length of time...would they eventually figure out what's wrong with their picture?
"ElijahThomas" chips in:
"like all anti-religion arguments yours demonstrates a woefully inadequate (even theoretical) understanding of God.
look at your own language...
"A God who knows the future is powerless to change it."
what of an author who has planned the end of his book? are they powerless to change it?"
Powerful, powerful analogy, Elijah. Now if you'd just step into this nice quiet room...
"DocMercury" changes the subject:
"One of the cures for cancer is known to be preventive rather than responsive, such as making it a habit to ingest or inhale zero dosage in toxins, avoiding aldehyde in the liver and benzene in the air.
So we're told, now that gambling excise more than makes up for lost nicotine excise, and the ethanol consumption remains constant."
Good point, Doc. You've really, er, cut to the heart of the article...um, there...
Last word goes to "John":
"Abbott will make a fine prime minister and I will be first in the queue to vote for him. Thumbs up!"
And you can NOT argue with that!
For example, "shane" writes:
"Anybody who follows Jesus as Lord & savoir according to the bible are saints"
Kind of a low standard, isn't it?
"If you pray to dead people this is called necromancy"
You mean like...Jesus?
"fed up" writes:
"Well i dont find this funny at all"
Damn...I've failed with a key demographic here.
"how sarcastic.
mr. Rudd has been going to Marys Chapel for some time
WHY O WHY ARE THE ABC PICKING ON OUR P.M.
SO MUCH ARE YOU ALL SERIOUS
CAN YOU DO BETTER AT COPENHAGEN I SUGGEST YOU CATCH THE NEXT PLANE
mary has anwered many a prayer for me you may laugh but i hope you dont need to prayer her soon for something that comes in your life.
i am fed up of the abc taking the mickey out of every one that does good in this country in couding out p.m TALL POPPY SYNDROM ITS ABOUT TIME THIS COUNTRY GREW UP
of course you all write this rubbish but then do you move on to the next thing without reading what we saY.
I WOULD SUGGEST TO OTHERS AND MYSELF NOT TO BOTHER BECAUSE I DOUBT YOU READ WHAT WE SAY.
AND IF WE DID NOT MAKE COMMENTS THEN THERE WOULD BE NO DRUM SO FROM NOW ON I AM NOT COMMENTING"
Now that my career has been destroyed by the mass grassroots "no commenting" movement, I guess I have some free time. So yeah, I WILL get on the next plane. And I will give those pollies a talking to, "in couding out p.m."
Hopefully the plane doesn't run into trouble, or I might have to prayer Mary MacKillop for something that comes in my life.
And then there's "Dazza":
"First of all God does not make mistakes, it is our fallen world that has caused all of this."
I wonder, when I hear someone express this sentiment, if you put the person in a nice quiet room and just left them there, without interruptions, for an indefinite length of time...would they eventually figure out what's wrong with their picture?
"ElijahThomas" chips in:
"like all anti-religion arguments yours demonstrates a woefully inadequate (even theoretical) understanding of God.
look at your own language...
"A God who knows the future is powerless to change it."
what of an author who has planned the end of his book? are they powerless to change it?"
Powerful, powerful analogy, Elijah. Now if you'd just step into this nice quiet room...
"DocMercury" changes the subject:
"One of the cures for cancer is known to be preventive rather than responsive, such as making it a habit to ingest or inhale zero dosage in toxins, avoiding aldehyde in the liver and benzene in the air.
So we're told, now that gambling excise more than makes up for lost nicotine excise, and the ethanol consumption remains constant."
Good point, Doc. You've really, er, cut to the heart of the article...um, there...
Last word goes to "John":
"Abbott will make a fine prime minister and I will be first in the queue to vote for him. Thumbs up!"
And you can NOT argue with that!
Thursday, April 9, 2009
With Eggs!
Sometimes, Easter can be a confusing time for those not steeped in solemn religious tradition. So for those of you who count among that number, here is a quick explanation of the Easter story, couched in modern terms for easy understanding.
THE STORY OF EASTER FOR THE MODERN "KIDS"
Imagine that you are driving, and in front of you is a big fancy car. Suddenly it slams on the brakes. You do likewise, but cannot stop in time. You slam into the back of the car.
The driver gets out of the car and confronts you.
DRIVER: You hit my car!
YOU: I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened.
DRIVER: It's not surprising really. I cut your brakes.
YOU: What?
DRIVER: Yes. Last night I came to your house and cut your brakes. Then I deliberately braked hard so you would hit me. I set it up so this would happen. I planned it all along.
YOU: So it's your fault?
DRIVER: Oh no, even though I planned it, it's still your fault. So now I have to punish you (takes out a gun).
YOU: You're going to shoot me.
DRIVER: Yes. In the head.
YOU: Isn't that a bit extreme?
DRIVER: Hey, YOU crashed into MY car! You need to be punished.
YOU: But...
DRIVER: OK, look, I am a kind and loving guy. I forgive you. I won't shoot you.
YOU: Oh good.
DRIVER: But I will have to shoot someone. Hey Junior, come out here! (his son gets out of the car, he shoots him in the head)
YOU: Dear God. Why did you do that?
DRIVER: Well, I wanted to forgive you, so I had to kill someone. Say thank you.
YOU: What?
DRIVER: I just saved you from being shot to death. Thank me!
YOU:...Thank you?
DRIVER: OK. Now here's my phone number. Ring me up every day for the rest of your life to say thank you again, and I won't shoot you in the head.
YOU: I thought you didn't have to shoot me, because you shot your son.
DRIVER: Oh yeah, but if you're going to be ungrateful, I'll have to shoot you anyway.
YOU: I'm very confused.
DRIVER: Here, have a chocolate bunny.
And that's Easter.
For a more inspirational take on the holiest holiday, see newmatilda.
THE STORY OF EASTER FOR THE MODERN "KIDS"
Imagine that you are driving, and in front of you is a big fancy car. Suddenly it slams on the brakes. You do likewise, but cannot stop in time. You slam into the back of the car.
The driver gets out of the car and confronts you.
DRIVER: You hit my car!
YOU: I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened.
DRIVER: It's not surprising really. I cut your brakes.
YOU: What?
DRIVER: Yes. Last night I came to your house and cut your brakes. Then I deliberately braked hard so you would hit me. I set it up so this would happen. I planned it all along.
YOU: So it's your fault?
DRIVER: Oh no, even though I planned it, it's still your fault. So now I have to punish you (takes out a gun).
YOU: You're going to shoot me.
DRIVER: Yes. In the head.
YOU: Isn't that a bit extreme?
DRIVER: Hey, YOU crashed into MY car! You need to be punished.
YOU: But...
DRIVER: OK, look, I am a kind and loving guy. I forgive you. I won't shoot you.
YOU: Oh good.
DRIVER: But I will have to shoot someone. Hey Junior, come out here! (his son gets out of the car, he shoots him in the head)
YOU: Dear God. Why did you do that?
DRIVER: Well, I wanted to forgive you, so I had to kill someone. Say thank you.
YOU: What?
DRIVER: I just saved you from being shot to death. Thank me!
YOU:...Thank you?
DRIVER: OK. Now here's my phone number. Ring me up every day for the rest of your life to say thank you again, and I won't shoot you in the head.
YOU: I thought you didn't have to shoot me, because you shot your son.
DRIVER: Oh yeah, but if you're going to be ungrateful, I'll have to shoot you anyway.
YOU: I'm very confused.
DRIVER: Here, have a chocolate bunny.
And that's Easter.
For a more inspirational take on the holiest holiday, see newmatilda.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Danny Nalliah: World's Sexiest Man?
I catch the fire and sound a warning to my fellow Victorians about the dangers of womb-liberation and god-defying - with thanks to modern-day prophet and public-minded ubermensch Pastor Danny Nalliah, and his Catch The Fire Ministries, AKA Australia's Conscience - in my latest New Matilda article.
However, it is true that that article was the second I wrote on the subject. The first didn't make it to publication, but I am going to reproduce it here, just in case anyone might be interested in reading it for purposes of comparison and enlightenment and saying, "Yeah, I can see why".
So this is another piece on Nalliah, EXCLUSIVELY FOR BLOG READERS, below:
Dear God,
I know I haven’t been in touch for a while, and I do apologise for taking up your valuable time; I know you must be terribly busy. But frankly God – and I hope you don’t mind my using your first name, I like to stay informal – some of us have recently become a little worried about some of the company you’ve been keeping. We’re afraid you’ve fallen in with a bad crowd. And we’d hate to see you go off the rails because of your friends’ bad influence.
Take Pastor Danny Nalliah. Please (That was a joke, God – you may not be au fait with the modern edgy comedy). I don’t know if you’ve heard, but he’s been going around spreading this rumour that you were responsible for the Victorian bushfires of the past week. According to the good pastor, you set the state alight to punish Victorians for legalising abortion last year. He knows this, because in October last year he had a dream, in which, according to his press release, “I saw fire everywhere with flames burning very high and uncontrollably”. He interpreted this as meaning that you had removed your protection “from the nation of Australia, in particular Victoria, for approving the slaughter of innocent children in the womb”.
Now, I confess that last weekend when I looked out my front door and saw the smoke rising, I did for a fleeting moment think, “Oops, I hope this isn’t because of that womb that I approved the slaughter of innocent children in”. It’s a good thing I read the papers and found out about the extreme heat and high winds and abundance of fuel, or I would have been beating myself up all week over it.
But what I’m getting at, God, is that this “pastor” seems to be trash-talking you. Are you really happy with being labelled an arsonist?
I realise that there have been incidents in the past. I realise that you do have, shall we say, a certain amount of “form” in this area. But hey, we all did stupid things in our youth. We all have our crazy stories to tell, about drunken parties and childish vandalism and killing firstborn sons. But past is past. Bygones, etc. You wouldn’t want to be judged on the Old Testament any more than, to take a random example, Peter Costello would want to be judged on any hypothetical past messages he might have theoretically sent to certain non-specific religious maniacs, back before he became a respected journalist. Youthful indiscretions etc.
I doubt you’d appreciate Danny Nalliah coming along and besmirching your reputation, after all the work you’ve put in on the public relations front. I don’t mind telling you, God, we’re all kind of annoyed down here. To be honest, the fires have been a bit of a bugger for us. I know you’d hate to think anyone thought you might be responsible. And I know you’d hate people to think you were wasting your time setting uterus-induced fires when you could be using your time more constructively.
And that’s why I’m writing to you, God, because I don’t think you should be associating with people like this. If nothing else, the name “Catch The Fire Ministries” is a bad look. Can you imagine being a member? Walking around saying, “Hey, have you caught the fire?” An awkward situation for any thinking person – so I suppose it’s not really a problem for them.
But there’s more. Danny Nalliah is saying you’re a firebug, but he’s also saying you’re an incompetent firebug. According to him, abortion was legalised on October 10, 2008, but you didn’t get around to doing anything about it until February 7, 2009. So according to Pastor Danny Nalliah, so-called Christian clergyman, either you are so slow on the uptake that it takes you four months to catch up with the latest news, or you’re incapable of starting a fire until the hottest day of the year. He’s dissing your omnipotence, man! Are you going to stand there and take that?
If you need more convincing, consider this: Nalliah’s church has apparently been assisting in bushfire relief, sending out trucks to distribute clothes and food and such. That’s right, God: he thinks the bushfires are your divine will, and he’s trying to thwart you. Outrageous? Yes. Sacrilegious? Yes. Downright rude? Damn straight.
So, let’s go through the litany. The man spreads vicious rumours about you. He calls you an arsonist. He calls you incompetent. He defies your will. I’m sorry God, it’s time to cut him loose. I know he’s a Pastor, I know he’s one of your flock, but there is an old saying I remember from my Baptist youth group: “Anyone who would call your omnipotence and benevolence into question in libellous press releases isn’t really your friend”.
Time to bear that in mind. You have to sever all ties. Don’t go to Nalliah’s services, don’t mix with him socially, stop replying to his emails. It might be painful, but a clean break is the only way when you get mixed up with such disreputable types.
Please do it, and do it now. You missed your chance with Steve Fielding, don’t miss your chance with Danny Nalliah. Because it’s a slippery slope. Today it’s Nalliah, tomorrow you could be getting mixed up with Miranda Devine, Australia’s classiest right-wing simpleton. Imagine that. If you think it’s bad getting blamed for setting fires, imagine how it’ll be when you’re getting blamed for hanging Bob Brown from a lamp post. Embarrassing, yeah? But that’s how it goes: once you start hanging with dodgy characters, you’re on a downward spiral, and if you don’t nip it in the bud, it’ll be but a short step to the lunatic fringe and Andrew Bolt quoting scripture to prove that Antarctica is getting colder.
I’m only saying this for your own good, God. I’ve seen so much potential ruined when good folks make bad choices. I’d hate to see that happen to you. And to be blunt, you’re not a kid anymore. You’re old enough to know better – you’re almost as old as the humorous device of the fake open letter. So it’s time to take some responsibility. Send out your own press release. Let the headlines tomorrow say that Danny Nalliah’s been slapped down by the boss. Send an unequivocal message.
Or failing that, a well-directed lightning bolt should do the trick.
Yours in Christ,
Ben Pobjie
However, it is true that that article was the second I wrote on the subject. The first didn't make it to publication, but I am going to reproduce it here, just in case anyone might be interested in reading it for purposes of comparison and enlightenment and saying, "Yeah, I can see why".
So this is another piece on Nalliah, EXCLUSIVELY FOR BLOG READERS, below:
Dear God,
I know I haven’t been in touch for a while, and I do apologise for taking up your valuable time; I know you must be terribly busy. But frankly God – and I hope you don’t mind my using your first name, I like to stay informal – some of us have recently become a little worried about some of the company you’ve been keeping. We’re afraid you’ve fallen in with a bad crowd. And we’d hate to see you go off the rails because of your friends’ bad influence.
Take Pastor Danny Nalliah. Please (That was a joke, God – you may not be au fait with the modern edgy comedy). I don’t know if you’ve heard, but he’s been going around spreading this rumour that you were responsible for the Victorian bushfires of the past week. According to the good pastor, you set the state alight to punish Victorians for legalising abortion last year. He knows this, because in October last year he had a dream, in which, according to his press release, “I saw fire everywhere with flames burning very high and uncontrollably”. He interpreted this as meaning that you had removed your protection “from the nation of Australia, in particular Victoria, for approving the slaughter of innocent children in the womb”.
Now, I confess that last weekend when I looked out my front door and saw the smoke rising, I did for a fleeting moment think, “Oops, I hope this isn’t because of that womb that I approved the slaughter of innocent children in”. It’s a good thing I read the papers and found out about the extreme heat and high winds and abundance of fuel, or I would have been beating myself up all week over it.
But what I’m getting at, God, is that this “pastor” seems to be trash-talking you. Are you really happy with being labelled an arsonist?
I realise that there have been incidents in the past. I realise that you do have, shall we say, a certain amount of “form” in this area. But hey, we all did stupid things in our youth. We all have our crazy stories to tell, about drunken parties and childish vandalism and killing firstborn sons. But past is past. Bygones, etc. You wouldn’t want to be judged on the Old Testament any more than, to take a random example, Peter Costello would want to be judged on any hypothetical past messages he might have theoretically sent to certain non-specific religious maniacs, back before he became a respected journalist. Youthful indiscretions etc.
I doubt you’d appreciate Danny Nalliah coming along and besmirching your reputation, after all the work you’ve put in on the public relations front. I don’t mind telling you, God, we’re all kind of annoyed down here. To be honest, the fires have been a bit of a bugger for us. I know you’d hate to think anyone thought you might be responsible. And I know you’d hate people to think you were wasting your time setting uterus-induced fires when you could be using your time more constructively.
And that’s why I’m writing to you, God, because I don’t think you should be associating with people like this. If nothing else, the name “Catch The Fire Ministries” is a bad look. Can you imagine being a member? Walking around saying, “Hey, have you caught the fire?” An awkward situation for any thinking person – so I suppose it’s not really a problem for them.
But there’s more. Danny Nalliah is saying you’re a firebug, but he’s also saying you’re an incompetent firebug. According to him, abortion was legalised on October 10, 2008, but you didn’t get around to doing anything about it until February 7, 2009. So according to Pastor Danny Nalliah, so-called Christian clergyman, either you are so slow on the uptake that it takes you four months to catch up with the latest news, or you’re incapable of starting a fire until the hottest day of the year. He’s dissing your omnipotence, man! Are you going to stand there and take that?
If you need more convincing, consider this: Nalliah’s church has apparently been assisting in bushfire relief, sending out trucks to distribute clothes and food and such. That’s right, God: he thinks the bushfires are your divine will, and he’s trying to thwart you. Outrageous? Yes. Sacrilegious? Yes. Downright rude? Damn straight.
So, let’s go through the litany. The man spreads vicious rumours about you. He calls you an arsonist. He calls you incompetent. He defies your will. I’m sorry God, it’s time to cut him loose. I know he’s a Pastor, I know he’s one of your flock, but there is an old saying I remember from my Baptist youth group: “Anyone who would call your omnipotence and benevolence into question in libellous press releases isn’t really your friend”.
Time to bear that in mind. You have to sever all ties. Don’t go to Nalliah’s services, don’t mix with him socially, stop replying to his emails. It might be painful, but a clean break is the only way when you get mixed up with such disreputable types.
Please do it, and do it now. You missed your chance with Steve Fielding, don’t miss your chance with Danny Nalliah. Because it’s a slippery slope. Today it’s Nalliah, tomorrow you could be getting mixed up with Miranda Devine, Australia’s classiest right-wing simpleton. Imagine that. If you think it’s bad getting blamed for setting fires, imagine how it’ll be when you’re getting blamed for hanging Bob Brown from a lamp post. Embarrassing, yeah? But that’s how it goes: once you start hanging with dodgy characters, you’re on a downward spiral, and if you don’t nip it in the bud, it’ll be but a short step to the lunatic fringe and Andrew Bolt quoting scripture to prove that Antarctica is getting colder.
I’m only saying this for your own good, God. I’ve seen so much potential ruined when good folks make bad choices. I’d hate to see that happen to you. And to be blunt, you’re not a kid anymore. You’re old enough to know better – you’re almost as old as the humorous device of the fake open letter. So it’s time to take some responsibility. Send out your own press release. Let the headlines tomorrow say that Danny Nalliah’s been slapped down by the boss. Send an unequivocal message.
Or failing that, a well-directed lightning bolt should do the trick.
Yours in Christ,
Ben Pobjie
Monday, July 21, 2008
What a life you lead
Cross-posted on Polliegraph.
Ron Delezio has been officially overwhelmed.
As he says, "This is the best thing that's ever happened apart from Sophie's survival from her accidents - just unreal."
Mind you, when the best thing that's ever happened to you is your daughter not quite dying, perhaps the bar has been set slightly low.
The Pope meanwhile, as God's vessel upon Earth, has said the Lord will take Sophie's request to please stop trying to kill her "into consideration", along with other submissions on the matter from bodies including Satan and the Association of Elderly Motorists (AEM).
Ron Delezio has been officially overwhelmed.
As he says, "This is the best thing that's ever happened apart from Sophie's survival from her accidents - just unreal."
Mind you, when the best thing that's ever happened to you is your daughter not quite dying, perhaps the bar has been set slightly low.
The Pope meanwhile, as God's vessel upon Earth, has said the Lord will take Sophie's request to please stop trying to kill her "into consideration", along with other submissions on the matter from bodies including Satan and the Association of Elderly Motorists (AEM).
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