Tag: godless heathens

God is a counter-evolutionary

I don’t know whether it was a dream or if I read it somewhere – I think I must have read it because I have lived in South Africa all my life and only have nightmares, not dreams – but I recall something about the education department wanting to stop teaching evolution to Grade 7 pupils because the concept was too difficult for them, and their teachers, to grasp.

I couldn’t agree more. Personally, I can think of nothing worse than having to stand in front of a room full of children and try to explain to them that we are descended from apes. Apes! Can you imagine? Children being what they are (dirty-minded, contumacious little ingrates aside), their first question would undoubtedly be, “Why?”

This is where my heart goes out to the teachers. They are trained to dispense knowledge, facilitate learning and nurture critical thinking skills and it is grossly unfair to expect them to be able to explain that we are a species called Homo something-or-other that developed as a result of genetic mutation and natural selection over a period of several millennia.

Were they to even attempt it, the reaction would be predictable. One of the children, and there is always one, will shout: “Jeffrey’s a homo!” There will be mass hysteria and the curly-haired, sensitive kid sitting in front will be pelted with used condoms and crack pipes.

Evolution can be a very disruptive subject to teach. It is highly suggestive and riddled with innuendo. How mortifying, then, for a professional pedagogue to have to tell her pupils that their ancestors slept with apes. Exposure to such filth can cause permanent damage to an impressionable young mind.

Apart from being a pack of pornographic lies, evolution is way too complicated for the human mind to comprehend. It would be far simpler for the teachers to explain that God, who needs no explanation, made Adam and Eve six thousand years ago. If any troublemakers in the class are not satisfied with this perfectly adequate explanation of our origins, all the teacher need do is draw a basic diagram showing how God made Adam from dust and then made Eve from one of Adam’s ribs. No further elucidation is needed.

Teachers should, however, warn their pupils not to try this at home. If I know boys, many of them will want to use their ribs to make girls in the privacy of their own bedrooms. At that age, it’s a lot easier and probably less painful than befriending a ready-made one.

Having said this, I should point out that I am not opposed to the idea of exposing children to different points of view – as long as they have nothing to do with the discredited and impossibly baffling theory of evolution.

I am a big fan of creationism. However, there’s a problem in that it only takes three or four minutes to teach, sometimes quicker if the teacher disallows questions. That leaves a lot of time to fill the lesson – hence my offering of an alternative theory to teach the grade sevens.

Mine is similar to the theory of intelligent design except that I believe our designer to be not particularly bright. He only has Himself to blame, really. He would be a lot smarter if He spent more time reading and less time drinking and smoking weed and staring off into space.

In short, we believe an Electric Catfish called Roger created the universe. Not deliberately, of course. He was three sheets to the wind when the accident happened. Whatever it was that he dropped made such a big bang that He was rendered stone deaf, which is why we forgive Him for never answering our prayers.

Even though my church has thousands of members, if not hundreds, it is unlikely that many of you will have heard of us. Catfishists worship clandestinely because there are people out there who wish to harm us. They say there is no evidence to support our beliefs, but the truth of the matter is that, even though we weren’t around when Roger inadvertently created the universe, we have written quite a thick book – The Holy Barbel – which explains everything.

As an act of faith and to silence the skeptics, we are offering one million rand to anyone who can provide scientific proof that Roger the Electric Catfish did not create all creatures great and small, plus a bunch of other stuff like volcanoes and bananas.

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Job Application to the Evangelical Seminary of Southern Africa

Dear Father,

I have received word through the Lord’s grapevine that you are looking for men and women to be trained as missionaries and sent into darkest Africa to convert the godless heathens to Christianity.

I do not wish to sound presumptuous, but I think you should forget the women. Don’t you remember what happened in the Garden of Eden? Of course you do. But nor do you wish to fall foul of the Commission for Gender Equality. Their wrath is worse than that of God.

In spite of my criminal record, I think I may have been born for this job. I love the idea of travelling to remote regions, meeting new people, absorbing different cultures and then, just when they are relaxing after dinner, rising up and telling them in a booming voice that the mother of all harlots will burn the number 666 into their foreheads if they do not change their graven image-worshipping ways.

There are nearly two billion Christians in the world. This is not nearly enough. The trigger-happy Muslims, cow-hugging Hindus and holier-than-thou Buddhists are right behind us and we have to move fast.

I am not afraid to go anywhere, but there are some countries where proselytizing is forbidden. Zimbabwe is one of them, now that Robert Mugabe is in the service of the Dark Lord. Sudan could be another. Should you wish to dispatch me to one of these wretched lands, it would be best that I go disguised as a tourist, a charity worker or a TV weatherman. It seems to be working for Derek Van Dam.

I would like to do for the pagans of Africa what the missionaries did for the Red Indians in America. In less than 200 years, the Comanche, Arapaho, Cherokee and Apache went from being noble savages running with the wolves to successful Christian alcoholics running drugs and casinos.

Today, I am happy to say, the reservations are full of face brick churches instead of satanic sweat lodges.

Before I accept the job, I need to know where you stand on witch burning. Luke 19.27 says: “But those mine enemies, which would not that I should reign over them, bring hither, and slay them before me.”

I am a very tolerant man, but my friends know not to bring witches unto my house, especially not when the cricket is on. The Weber is used to sacrifice marinated lambs and spatchcock chickens. The bonfire in the back yard is used to burn witches. I have only ever set three alight. The rest escaped.

With the global financial meltdown, firelighters and decent firewood are luxuries that I can no longer afford. Please let me know if there is a cheaper way to slay mine enemies.

I appreciate that conversion by faith is the best means of attaining salvation. However, Africa being what it is, conversion by threats of dismemberment is often a quicker and more cost effective way of helping the natives to see the way, the truth and the light. It worked in Rwanda and it can work here. Stab the stubborn ones with the sharp end of the cross, say seven Hail Marys, drink three Bloody Marys and you’re well on your way to creating a flock of faithful followers.

Does your organisation work on the same principle as the ANC? In other words, are your missionaries mere tools that get sent hither and yon to serve at the seminary’s pleasure? If not, I would like to ask that I be posted to Timbuktu so that I may work among the Dogon people. As you know, these swarthy agnostics still worship Sirius, the dog star, which is linked to the Egyptian goddess, Isis, who is related to the Greco-Roman deity Bacchus and his iconoclastic cousin Priapus, who takes his cue from the sacred fox which has no name.

I will, however, need more than a gun and a bible to reconstruct these Pyrrhonian backsliders. The Dogon believe they were created by gods who came from the sky in space ships. They are madder than Tom Cruise and I will need twenty crates of single malt whisky, 500 condoms and a thousand aspirin if I am to convince them that it is not the god Lebe, but the Almighty Himself who visits them at night in the form of a serpent and licks their skins in order to purify them and infuse them with life.

As one of your newest recruits, my motto will be Convert Or Die. I have already printed the T-shirts so you have to give me the job or I will sue your holy ass to kingdom come.

Yours in Christ,

Brother Ben Trovato

Letter to the Evangelical Seminary of Southern Africa

Dear Father,

I have received word through the Lord’s grapevine that you are looking for men and women to be trained as missionaries and sent into darkest Africa to convert the godless heathens to Christianity.

I do not wish to sound presumptuous, but I think you should forget the women. Don’t you remember what happened in the garden of Eden? Of course you do. But nor do you wish to fall foul of the Commission for Gender Equality. Their wrath is worse than that of God.

In spite of my criminal record, I think I may have been born for this job. I love the idea of travelling to remote regions, meeting new people, absorbing different cultures and then, just when they are relaxing after dinner, rising up and telling them in a booming voice that the mother of all harlots will burn the number 666 into their foreheads if they do not change their graven image-worshipping ways.

There are nearly two billion Christians in the world. This is not nearly enough. The trigger-happy Muslims, cow-hugging Hindus and holier-than-thou Buddhists are right behind us and we have to move fast. I am not afraid to go anywhere, but there are some countries where proselytizing is forbidden. Zimbabwe is one of them, now that Robert Mugabe is in the service of the Dark Lord. Sudan could be another. Should you wish to despatch me to one of these wretched lands, it would be best that I go disguised as a tourist, a charity worker or a TV weatherman. It seems to be working for Derek Van Dam.

I would like to do for the pagans of Africa what the missionaries did for the Red Indians in America. In less than 200 years, the Comanche, Arapaho, Cherokee and Apache went from being noble savages running with the wolves to successful Christian alcoholics running drugs and casinos. Today, I am happy to say, the reservations are full of face-brick churches instead of satanic sweat lodges.

Before I accept the job, I need to know where you stand on witch burning. Luke 19.27 says: “But those mine enemies, which would not that I should reign over them, bring hither, and slay them before me.”

I am a very tolerant man but my friends know not to bring witches unto my house, especially not when the cricket is on. The Weber is used to sacrifice marinated lambs and spatchcock chickens. The bonfire in the back yard is used to burn witches. I have only ever set three alight. The rest escaped.

With the global financial meltdown, firelighters and decent firewood are luxuries that I can no longer afford. Please let me know if there is a cheaper way to slay mine enemies.

I appreciate that conversion by faith is the best means of attaining salvation. However, Africa being what it is, conversion by threats of dismemberment is often a quicker and more cost effective way of helping the natives to see the way, the truth and the light. It worked in Rwanda and it can work here. Stab the stubborn ones with the sharp end of the cross, drink three Bloody Marys, say seven Hail Marys and you’re well on your way to creating a flock of faithful followers.

Does your organisation work on the same principal as the ANC? In other words, are your missionaries mere tools that get sent hither and yon to serve at the seminary’s pleasure? If not, I would like to ask that I be posted to Timbuktu so that I may work among the Dogon people. As you know, these swarthy agnostics still worship Sirius, the dog star, which is linked to the Egyptian goddess, Isis, who is related to the Greco-Roman deity Bacchus and his iconoclastic cousin Priapus, who takes his cue from the sacred fox which has no name. I will, however, need more than a gun and a bible to reconstruct these Pyrrhonian backsliders.

The Dogon believe they were created by gods who came from the sky in space ships. They are madder than Tom Cruise and I will need twenty crates of single malt whisky, 500 condoms and a thousand aspirin if I am to convince them that it is not the god Lebe, but the Almighty Himself who visits them at night in the form of a serpent and licks their skins in order to purify them and infuse them with life.

As one of your newest recruits, my motto will be: Convert Or Die. I have already printed the T-shirts so you have to give me the job or I will sue your holy ass to kingdom come.

Yours in Christ,

Brother Ben Trovato