The moving finger rants

I suddenly find myself unable to continue ignoring the royal wedding. It's got Daleks in it.

A royal wedding street party with a difference will see a Dalek serve up trays of drinks and snacks to guests on Friday - presumably with cries of 'Extermi-Cake'.

More likely, WOULD YOU CARE FOR A PLAS-TIC CUP OF LUKE-WARM CHE-RRY-ADE. Although, the more I think about it, the more this starts to make sense. What better way to celebrate a great British institution than with a terrifying symbol of imperialistic aggression? Particularly, one that some bloke from the Home Counties has spent a week painting red, white and blue?

I am no stranger to those odd periods of mass hysteria that we're all subjected to on occasion. When Diana died I bought Candle in the Wind twice. I saw Titanic three times in the cinema (and each time, because it is a four-hour-long behemoth, I had to go to the loo just before Kate Winslet gets nekkid.) We're all allowed to get emotional beyond the bounds of reason now and then, especially if we blog self-deprecatingly about it years later. But this one just seems supremely pointless. Two people I don't care about are performing a ceremony I don't care about. I'm not invited. I don't get any of the cake. I am unsure what, as a nation, we all gain by waving flags to solemnize the fact that, according to a book most of us haven't read, two young people are now permitted to fuck.

I shall be at work tomorrow. Although I might take the opportunity to have an excuse to rewatch The Princess Bride.

Let's get one thing clear: Joseph Ratzinger was conscripted into the Hitler Youth. He had the misfortune to be born in Germany 73 years ago. He was fourteen years old, probably not very bright (it's always the family idiot who takes the Cloth), and if you didn't join you got shot. Calling him a Nazi Pope is lazy. Let's blame him for all of the things that are his fault.

That said, this ridiculous speech in which he equates atheists with Nazis simply goes to illustrate the levels of hypocrisy that only an organization like the Catholic Church can reach. The Nazis were bad: on this His Holiness and I agree. But you were there, dude, and what the fuck did you do about it?

I wasn't born until long after the Nazis had been defeated. If I had been, you can be sure that there would have at least been a blog post or two. But Ratzinger paid lip service to their morals, waited sixty years, and then tried to blame all of their crimes on atheism. You bastard.

I watched a reasonably interesting documentary [Iplayer, available until Wednesday] about Ratzingerdict last night, notable mostly for further displays of this same hypocrisy. The documentarian is a gay Catholic and he interviews a couple of other gay Catholics. All of them seem to be fine with the concept that their own Church wants them to go to Hell (it's not a priority for me), because the Church does many other good things. It then totally fails to specify what those other good things are, but at one point the VO mumbles something about building a dialogue with the faithless. He then spends the rest of the hour talking about how much the Pope hates secular humanists: more so, it would seem, than he hates child molesters. Dear reader, you might want to use this as an indication of the Holy Father's balance of mind. Secular humanism is a great evil to be stamped out, believes the Pontiff—and this is, after all, the reason for his visit to these shores, the UK being a hotbed of secularism. I, for one, am (still) proud to live in a third world country.

The documentary jumps about from place to place and never reaches any sort of conclusion. If it were up to me, given the same raw material, I could have done an interesting, poignant piece about a man who grew up liberal, formed hardline opinions during the student riots, wants to continue his scholarly work but can't because he's duty-bound to be the Pope. Could have been a marvellous, humanizing piece about the man behind the monster, still totally within BBC impartiality guidelines. But even the Catholic who produced the documentary about the man doesn't seem to know what to make of him.

Plus, they get as far as interviewing his elderly brother, and this is apparently some sort of journalistic coup. This is the BBC. It should have gone like this:

Dear [some cardinal, any one, really]

Hello, we're the most respected broadcasting institution in the world, and we'd like to do an interview with your boss. Tuesday okay for you?

The Pope is many things: he's a doddery old man with a charming smile, and almost everything else about him is monstrous. But he's not a Nazi. He's just very, very bad at Godwin's Law.

I don't get it. The Queen is Defender of the Protestant Faith, right? So the Pope comes to town tomorrow, and she's making him tea. She's still excommunicated as far as I know. Shouldn't they fight?

I'd pay twenty quid to see that—much better than some boring Mass any day. We can give the Queen a handbag with a brick in it and Ratzinger has those Gucci shoes with the wicked heel on them. Old person fight! Roll up, roll up! Centuries of doctrinal conflict settled at last in one glorious battle to the death! Official programmes £15. Bring your own popcorn. Soundtrack provided by Battle without Honor or Humanity, natch.

Personally, I think the Queen could take him. Ratzo is a couple of years younger, but she's the bloody Queen, mate.

Okay, it's a state visit, I can grasp that. We get those sometimes and it's very nice for the economy. But the state of which Popeface is head (can't read my, can't read my, no you can't read my Poper face) is, let's face it, a bizarre theocratic dictatorship responsible for millions of deaths and the systematic coverup of organized child rape, not to mention the Crusades, some degree of complicity in the Holocaust, and a great deal of arrogant swanning about the planet like they own the place. If Robert Mugabe came to town, I'd expect a little outcry. The amount of opposition to this has consisted of a single letter to the Guardian. And no one has even begun to talk about my personal inconvenience.

There are nineteen pages of traffic restrictions for the Papal visit tomorrow. Basically, His Holiness pootles into town in his little glass-enclosed mobility chair, and as a result no one is allowed to drive or park anywhere in the Capital. You can do whatever steps you want if \ You have cleared them with the City of Edinburgh Council, which naturally means that nobody will be doing any stepping of any kind.

The Pontiff's route neatly bisects a line between my flat and my work: I have advised my bosses that, if I'm not in on time tomorrow, it's either because traffic is terrible (which it will be) or because I've been arrested.

This year alone I've killed two million fewer Africans than that bloke has. I'm just an honest citizen trying to get to work. Where's my fuckin' motorcade, Officer?

Trying to work out the best way to fit SECULAR HUMANISM ROCKS YOUR SOCKS RIGHT OFF onto a banner.

Yeah. Tomorrow's going to be fun.

Today's headline in the Scotsman: Sectarian Scotland attacked by Pope

Raaarh! Pope attack!

A wild Pontiff was turned back at the Vatico-Scotland border. The marauding cardinal tried to charge, but was too old and weak and got tangled up in his stupid frock. Look out, he's got a crozier, officials said.

I particularly like the bit where he whines about the tragedy of division during the Reformation. That was your fault, dude. If your predecessors hadn't been such utterly horrible human beings, then Martin Luther and John Knox would never have gone completely mad and split off in the first place.

Hence:

Sirs,

You state in your leader (6th February) that the Pope's address leaves the perception that Scotland is[...] a place of which he disapproves and, while I'm not surprised, nothing could make me happier. In Scotland we allow our women control over their careers and over their own bodies; consenting adults may enjoy the company of whomever they choose; eighty per cent of us live quite happily without being bossed around by a crozier-wielding nutcase; and the vast majority of our young boys can go through their childhoods with their bottoms unsullied. That the Father Confessor treats us all with a sneer merely serves to demonstrate just how well the Scots can get along without him.

And, while it may be too damp and cold for the Pontiff's tastes, we've got scenery, too—at least until the new Beauly-Denny line is built. When I moved here many years ago, my wise old technology teacher told me that, no matter where you were in Scotland, you could drive for an hour and be in God's country. While the wording was inaccurate, the sentiment is spot on. Better yet, it's not God's country, it's ours: which suggests that perhaps we Scots are closer to the miracles of existence than Mr Ratzinger can ever hope to be.

If more were needed, you printed your editorial alongside a picture of Eck Salmond wearing lipstick, fishnets and suspenders. I can think of no better proof that the Cardinal is misguided in his belief in a loving god.

I am proud to live in a country of which an elderly, deluded virgin disapproves. Lang may our lums reek, carbon-neutrally, of course.

Yours, etc.

Hatemongering, misogynistic paederast John Knox just wishes he could write this well.

The Scotsman printed my last letter after all, only a week after I'd sent it. I wasn't expecting them to print it at all, let alone completely unedited, including the cheap dig at the fundie troll that I'd deliberately put in there. Possibly there is some relation to the fact that it comes only a day after he'd had published a rather nasty, hateful and homophobic piece of blatant religious bigotry, which had half-convinced me to stop treating this like a game.

On the other hand, it's quite likely that the Scotsman hacks had their office Christmas party last night (the women's section would imply as much), and they needed some copy fast so they could get out early.

Good times, good times.

And now, back to Castrovalva.

There's a frosty nip in the air (actually, it was -4°C apparent today), they've put the Christmas lights on in town, and today at Pizza Express I had a `Natale' (turkey, pancetta, and sausagemeat stuffing pizza: fabulous), so naturally one's thoughts turn to the reason we should be celebrating at this time of year.

I think it's important at this time to remember a man, born into this world in the dark of winter, who saved us all from evil many, many times, and who died for our sins and was reborn unto us. And he totally did it nine times.

Yes, it's that time of year. On 23rd November, 1963, Doctor Who was first broadcast. Let us take a moment to remember His deeds.

(Somebody else has done this before me, so it's only fair that I give them credit. Doctor Who teaches us the value of fairness and honesty. Part One and Part Two. Enjoy.)

~

On a slightly more serious note: next week, the 30th November, is the actual birthday of Winston Churchill, according to real, documentary evidence. Now there's a man who delivered us all from evil and knew a thing or two about fighting demons. He served two non-consecutive terms, so you could argue that he came back from the dead, or at least that he spent some time in the political wilderness. And he knew a lot more about civil liberties and free will than Jesus ever did. And he actually existed.

Who's up for celebrating Churchillmas on the 30th?

(Yes, there are some issues with Churchill's record and the matter of gassing all those Kurds. Impetuous youth and nobody's perfect. That's what the Bible is missing, it occurs to me now: a flawed, believable protagonist.)

( Turns out I rambled for a bit )

I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians ... the A.C.L.U., People for the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America, I point the finger in their face and say, You helped this happen.

—Jerry Falwell, 13th September 2001

Let's hear it for the pagans and the abortionists and the gays and the lesbians. All of the people who have tried to secularize America. You are the true Americans, the ones who ask for our tired, our poor, our huddled masses. You are the ones who believe in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Jerry Fucking Falwell, on the other hand, is just an arsehole and a dickhead, and—and this is important, pagans and abortionists and gays and lesbians—you've all outlived him.

Jerry Fucking Falwell can rot in the Hell he deserves. Go forward now, free from his hateful influence, and build an America we can all be proud of.

(Someone once said that if one can't say anything nice, one shouldn't say anything at all. I've never subscribed to this theory. Jerry Falwell can fuck off and die. Twice.)

I should remind you all that this is the guy who claimed that the Teletubbies were evil because Tinky Winky was gay. I might, or might not, be with him on the first part only of that assertion. And thus, despite all his faults, the man was at least partly responsible for the single most awesome spokesperson-delivered statement ever to come out of the BBC, which I herewith reproduce in its entirety:

It's not a handbag, it's a magic bag.

Jerry Falwell: Bastard. Dead. I raise a glass to all those people who aren't him.

(with thanks to neohippie1 and The Prattle)

( From today's letters page:... )

There is, of course, no way they'll print it (despite the fact that I offered them an alternative phrase in case `whore' is too strong for a family paper). Nonetheless I feel better, and that's what's important.