The Journal


Serving the Metropolitan Area


Since 1872


September 21st




By Jack Parnell - retired Congressman and Independent Presidential candidate


Syndicated by Acme Features


          Talk rolls round to whom as God will be endorsing in election next – might find the answer in the merchandising and marketing.   Famously responding to a question that he’s “not sure” if he’s ever asked forgiveness from God, last time out, Donald Trump asserted: “I have a great relationship with God,” adding that the Chosen One did not regret certain previous remarks. “I have a great relationship with evangelicals. In fact, nationwide, I’m up by a lot, I’m leading everybody.”  Didn’t stop Reverend Hoon from stabbing him in the back with his encyclical about nomination in 2020 and throwing his collar to Austin Tillerman… or all those other little cockroaches as faltered, in the end, but did so much damage to Djonald’s prestige and self-confidence in the primaries (where they were held) that polls show him racing neck and neck against Marianne Williamson, for Krishna’s sake.

"Of all the bad men," Christian writer C. S. Lewis once observed, "religious bad men are the worst!"

          Lewis warn't no Unitarian bed-hopper with crooked teeth, oozing sores and Fabian sympathies... he was a churchgoing Ulster Prod, bigoted to the marrow, and he wrote about bad religious people because he knew plenty of 'em, all across the board. He remains perennial, though dead more than a half a century and change  (since that infamous November 22nd, 1963, in the company of JFK and the perennial philosopher Aldous Huxley, whom he despised), in that the lively trade of interpreting the word of God to the credulous hasn't diminished one decibel. In fact, it's grown, rather to the volume of that bass drum phalanx during Belfast’s marching season.

          If you look to polls, you'll find most everybody swearing as they're holier than thou. Some have the toll of self-professed born-agains up to seventy, eighty percent in some places... one pollster, canvassing Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi and maybe South Carolina (I'm not positive on that, one of the Carolinas anyway) found ninety-eight percent answering that they believed in the inerrancy of the Old Testament; that is, word for word for word handed down without a single error, including Deuteronomy Twenty.  Even Atlanta, which some think of as the Devil's washbowl, has nine in ten joining Vice Pence and Sara, the Drillerator, Palin in professing sex out of marriage is wrong (if not necessarily practicing so), eight in ten believing in the Divil himself and a veto-proof majority holding that "the government should pass laws to keep it that way."

          Of course polls tend to bring out what pollsters are pushing to make happen, and it's not as if some would 'fess up to a stranger on the telephone that they cut the throats of chickens of a Saturday night, or pray to al-Jezreel – otherwise we’d have had Mike Huckleberry nominated and elected by acclaim back in the day as opposed to his shilling for Breitbart and cheering on his daughter during her tenure as one of The Donald’s rotating press secretaries.  Like Crimean voters with armed Russians lookin' over their shoulders, or American kids back in that other day, with ruler-armed teachers lookin’ over theirs as they dutifully write down and sign pledges as to how they'd never even heard of drugs or beer or sex, watched such TV as their parents told them and thunk Perry Como was the bees' pajamas! I get over to Shavery Point Baptist and the Reverend Clowthers often as I can on account of his not castin' me out due to my little divorce problem... since, by doing that, he'd lose half his congregation (not even counting prob'ly another ten, fifteen percent as shack up on the sly, plus that wedding photographer and schoolteacher we call Roy and Siegfried!)... but Lord!, how the Rev can paint a beige soul black, then scrub it white with steel wool and bleach!

          Shavery's God is vengeful, but also sublimely subtle, as Deities have the propensity to be. A'fore Clowthers or Billy Graham, even, Jonathan Edwards was God's burr between sock and boot, sermonizing, in 1741, that the Lord would "not only hate you," but would "have you in the utmost Contempt; no Place shall be thought fit for you, but under his Feet, to be trodden down as Mire of the Streets."

          Most People of the Book ain't rich, but their M-131 shepherds promulgate a politics of the comfortable down against the not. All part of the drift... or Imitation Principle, as the eggheads say... holding it just as holy, or better, to reform thy neighbor (even at gun or knifepoint) as thyself. As Herr Nietzsche put it, Paul "romanized" the followers of Jesus by concocting "a showy mystery religion" domestic partnered, if not outright married, to the corporations and gumment as more or less took over from the kings and queens and Emperors. Ever since, the root issue's been Dominion - that gumments should have authority to regulate believers, other-believers and not-believers, that God might continue to favor us, here, over the French, Egyptians and Canadians.

          Because the favor of God is extended, or withdrawn, based on the collective virtue of all Americans, it becomes critical who's listening to rap-metal music, what Roy, Siegfried and the tigers do under their blankets by night and, especially, whether politicians vote the Christian Coalition party line (and whether the casino Bill Bennett casts lots in is or ain't koshered by Ralph Reed or hosted by Donald Trump Junior). God cares... and He watches! Could come down to li'l Timmy, as I mentioned back when, locking the bathroom door and George Michaeling himself. WHAM!... down comes Hillary, leading her four billion godless Chinese, Ay-rabs, Venezuelans, Hindoos, Mongols, mongoloids an' mongrels... God's new chosen people.

          Could happen!

          Speakin’ of the Whore of Chappaqua, them as prayed for a manly man of God to rise up and strike down the witch in the way that witches oughta be struck down got a rather poor selection last time out… their Four Horsemen of Apocalypse behaving like the Three Stooges…

          “Little” Marco Rubio, dare-to-dream candidate of the blue-haired set, got thrashed in his home state of Florida by The Donald and dropped out, blaming God.

          “And so, while it is not God's plan that I be president in 2016 or maybe ever, and while today my campaign is suspended, the fact that I've ever come this far is evidence of how special America truly is,” the candidate confessed.  There is no evidence that he was using the word “special” in any ironic sense, although many Americans and most of the rest of the world are viewing these primaries as the rantings and tantrums of small children sorely in need of stong medication.

          So, whose victory was in God’s plan?

          Not John Kasich, who won one state; modestly remarking that "I don't go out and try to win a vote by using God.. But people know I'm sort of faith—I mean, I don’t think they know that or not. But I think they pick it up."  In South Carolina, however, he spoke of a "message" he received calling him to run for governor of Ohio in 2010.

“I am blessed to receive a word from God every day in receiving the scriptures and reading the scriptures,” concurred Texas Senator Ted Cruz, whom God told to stop acting like an Internet troll before sending him back to Texas.

Seen Teddy lately, since he survived that near-fatal attack of Beto flu?  That beard he’s grown makes him look like the bureaucrat in the children’s correctional “hospital” as is amping up the electroshock cables for another go-round on some hapless Salvadoran tyke.

Leaving it up to a thrice-married casino builder to ride in on a fire-snorting black horse and decapitate the witch… whose severed head bounced around a bit, then started writing books and speeching speeches and fattening the wallets of her and her increasingly sitcommish hubby.  And now, sequels being the key to which the locks on Hollywood lock boxes full of revenues turn, we face a sequel, or a prequel… being that the putative candidates are so goddam old and the get out the vote polls are down to forty percent and dropping,

          Now the one thing as unifies Cadillac Christers and those Prius Pee-Ceisters over the last decade or so is how they’ll tell you that they're all so persecuted... persecuted by the homos, the Hillariacs, by voices of situational ethicity and/or ethnicities as flap through the air and confound their faith with French verbs. (Not exactly bein' eaten by tigers, like Roy, no... but the pain of their having to share the planet with the likes of you and I hurts – really hurts, like them arrows of discontent as pierced Saint Sebastien or them Hunger Games losers.) No wonder some Christian Identiteers used to disrecognize gumment, rationalize it as a Godly gesture to bounce checks off the neighborhood barber, grocer and the dog license bureau... as that in Nebraska as got shot up by self-styled "patriots".  Or, like Mister Bolton’s replacement as (Acting, of course) National Security Advisor Newt (the Lizard King) call their infidelities acts of job-creating patriotism… as their whores and mistresses (if not the trinkets of the Trump Store) were American, not like the Argentine firecracker preferred by that guy somewhere in the Carolinas (not John-Boy Edwards, nor Carlos Danger, but that other guy as ran against Djonald and got one point four percent in his own state).

          Most believers, though, fend off persecution's pain by doin' what Americans do best when they hurt... shop! Starts innocently enough with books, audio and videotapes. Some commodity fetishists discovered angels, as others had found divinity in Pokemon or Beanie Babies (or, to leftish hoarders, Bernie Babies!)... angel books and ceramics, of course, but also playing cards, diet books, bobblehead Apostles and computer mousepads. Some Christian stores restocked Nirvana's old CD "In Utero" for the angel on the cover. T-shirt vendors ripped off secular advertising with slogans like "Got Jesus?" (milk), "Yer Save Yer" frogs (ABM beer) or the ubiquitous "Save Mankind" fish (instead of whales). Credit cards bulk-mailed out by moneychangers with that fish sign and 45.95% APR. And all those bumperstickers: WWJD for "What would Jesus do?" (or, recently, "drive")... I've seen yuletide cynics, and not only in Washington, drawing lines through the middle of the D to ask: "What would Jesus buy?"

          Now most Christians of my acquaintance don't have the time nor inclination to bust up gay weddings, bomb clinics or slip flyers of dead babies under the windshields of those inside at community pancake breakfasts sponsored by some rival faith. Many volunteer in hospitals, or build or repair homes for disabled veterans... some in my district eschew gloating over the funerals of dead soldiers to serve as volunteer pallbearers for those as died poor, forgotten and alone. Others help mentor welfare mothers, amputee veterans, unwanted dogs, ex-cons and mental patients, or run soup kitchens and (even in godless Vegas and Frisco), get slapped in jail for the doing.

          "Find the good in life and praise it," counseled the late author of "Roots", Alex Haley. And Lincoln admonished both Confederate and Union enthusiasts at his Second Inaugural Address, just weeks before his death, thusly...

"Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God and each invoked His aid against the other... The prayers of both could not be answered... The Almighty has His own purposes."




1 Christers as discount most of the New Testament save Matthew 13, as promises them what has will have more, them which don't will lose what little they have. Also known as the Parable of the Talents, much beloved by right-wingers as still profess that good things of life come proportionate to one's talent, as opposed to ruthlessness an' the connections.