Greg Craven, and a flurry of exorcising clever, witty, funny musings about the evils of atheists

Sometimes you just have to pay homage to brighter minds:

Greg Craven, he of the dullard mind, in A plague of atheists has descended, and Catholics are the target:

At the bottom, of course, lies hate. I am not quite clear why our modern crop of atheists hates Christians, as opposed to ignoring or even politely dismissing them, but they very clearly do. There is nothing clever, witty or funny about hate.

Followed by Daryl, with a sharper axe, first out of the blocks in the comments section:

"There is nothing clever, witty or funny about hate."

Ironic that this statement follows a dozen paragraphs of attempted cleverness, wit, humour and most definite hate, all directed at atheists.

So what's got Greg Craven, incidentally vice-chancellor of the Australian Catholic University, and therefore hardly an innocent bystander, so worked up?

Well it seems the Catholic church is under siege, prompted by a secularist left wing media that's in a feral frenzy when it comes to the Church:

In an average week of atheistic bigotry in the Melbourne media, we can expect to learn that Catholics endorse child molestation, hate all other religions, would re-introduce the crusades and the auto de fe at the slightest opportunity, despise women, wish to persecute homosexuals, greedily divert public moneys for their own religious purposes, subvert public health care, brainwash children, and are masterminding the spread of the cane toad across northern Australia.

Outrageous! Especially when the church is so kind about poofters, providing they leave their pillow biting at the door, and especially welcoming of women, provided they don't expect to have any direct access to god, save through the portals opened by kindly caring men (can the silly floozies ever be forgiven for leading men astray and taking them out of the garden of eden by presenting them with an apple full of snake toxin? Not likely, at least when they keep on their carnal corrupting ways).

Never mind. Let's turn to the first rate wit you can expect from a Catholic wag:

Attacking Christians is not really clever, witty or funny.

From time immemorial, this world has been troubled by plagues. From bogong moths in Canberra to frogs in biblical Egypt, unwelcome and unlovely creatures have the awkward habit of turning up in bulk.

Just now, we are facing one of our largest and least appealing infestations. Somewhat in advance of summer's blowflies, we are beset by atheists. Worse, they are not traditional atheists. These tended to be quiet blokes called Algie with ancillary interests in nudist ceramics, who were perfectly happy as long as you pretended to accept a pamphlet in Flinders Lane.

By golly that's funny, that's hilarious, as sophisticated and cunning as me going in search of dung beetle metaphors for Christians. Blowflies! And by golly the flies are indeed out and about in the heartland, sending innocent tourists into a back-slapping frenzy. If only we could dispose of those blowflies called Algie in such an easy way, and without leaving the compressed guts squashed on to the white shirt or fragile blouse.

Why am I reminded of Christians as being like a sounding brass or tinkling cymbal, especially when they speak with the tongues of men but have not charity?

No, the new hobby atheist is as brash, noisy and confident as a cheap electric kettle.

Ah, that's why. God, pardon me while I take time out to guffaw. Hah, cheap electric kettle. That's so damn witty and clever. Like a cow farting methane joke directed at greenies.

So now for the paranoid bit:

They want everyone to know that they have not found God, and that no one else should. Their particular target seems to be Catholics. On the surface, this is odd, as there are plenty of other religious targets just waiting to be saved from a vengeful, non-existent deity. Smaller herds, such as the Christadelphians or the Salvation Army, might seem more manageable.

Well actually the Catholics manage that job pretty well themselves - attacking other religions - especially in the recent attempt to lump every other church into the same pedophile racket (was it only in October we were writing about the worthy Silvano Tomasi?)

... the Catholic Church has two incomparable advantages as an object of the wrath of proselytising atheists. First, it is the biggie. Taking out the Catholics is the equivalent of nuking the Pentagon. Guerilla bands of Baptists and Pentecostals can be liquidated at leisure.

Oh dear, that paranoia is growing into quite a substantial malignant tumor. Atheists on the march. But hey, let's remember how it's done when it comes to demolishing the other faiths:

Second, the Catholics have the undeniable advantage that they do still demonstrably believe in something. Attacking some of the more swinging Christian denominations might mean upsetting people who believe a good deal less than the average atheist.

Way to go Catholics. That'll teach those wretched half baked half hearted incompetent nincompoop bubble headed boobies in other faiths about demonstrably not believing in something and perhaps even fellow traveling with the atheist secularists. Yep all you bloody splinter Christian groups are just a pile of irritating blather.

Mind you, the appeals of atheism as a diverting pastime are not immediately obvious to those of us who are on relatively easy terms with God. Why would anyone get so excited about the misconceptions of third parties as to the existence of a fourth party in which they themselves do not believe?

But, but, but. If you're on relatively easy terms with god, why would you give a flying fuck about the buzzing of blowflies? A simple 'shoo fly' would surely suffice. There must be something that sticks in the craw, something that gets a third party agitated about the beliefs of fourth parties that don't have anything to do with the rights of the original parties, which we all know are some kind of pari passu pro rata distribution deal with god.

The answer is twofold. First, the great advantage of designer atheism is that you get to think of yourself as immensely clever. After all, you are at least much brighter than all those dumb-asses who believe in a supreme being, such as Sister Perpetua down the road, Thomas Aquinas, Isaac Newton and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. So satisfying.

Oh would that be the Isaac Newton deemed a heretic, who favored the Eastern Orthodox view, and who might well have been an antitrinitarian, and - gasp - even a Rosicrucian. (here) Not to mention becoming a dedicated alchemist. And who might best be described as a deist, who managed to resist the charm of the last sacrament on his death bed!

Oops, there I go, feeling immensely clever and superior for having taken a few seconds to re-confirm what I knew about Isaac Newtown before shooting my mouth off like a hopeless gherkin. And what do you know. It's so bloody satisfying.

The second factor has to do with wit. For some reason, contemporary Australian atheism seems to consider itself terribly funny. Its proponents only have to wheel out one of the age-old religious libels to lose control of their bladders. To outsiders, of course, it is a bit like watching a giggling incontinent drunk at a party. This is not to say that believers - and perhaps especially Catholics - do not get seriously irritated by atheists. They do, but not because atheists are fearfully clever or Wildely funny.

Oh gosh, must be time to wheel out an old religious libel. Take it away Ambrose Bierce:

Trinity, n. In the multiplex theism of certain Christian churches, three entirely distinct deities consistent with only one. Subordinate deities of the polytheistic faith, such as devils and angels, are not dowered with the power of combination, and must urge individually their clames to adoration and propitiation. The Trinity is one of the most sublime mysteries of our holy religion. In rejecting it because it is incomprehensible, Unitarians betray their inadequate sense of theological fundamentals. In religion we believe only what we do not understand, except in the instance of an intelligible doctrine that contradicts an incomprehensible one. In that case we believe the former as a part of the latter.

Oh dear, that must really irritate.

When I think of all the harm the Bible has done, I despair of ever writing anything equal to it.

Sorry Oscar, that's so Wildely unfunny we have to move along.

How about some bitterness and bile?

Frankly, the prime reason the average believer finds the common or garden atheist as appealing as a holiday in Birchip is because they consign them to that sorry category of individuals who spend their lives loudly congratulating themselves on their own intelligence without noticing that no one else is joining the chorus. Thus, as a Catholic, I do not normally sense in some tabloid atheist the presence of a supreme discerning intellect. I simply place him or her in much the same pitiable bin of intellectual vulgarians as the chartered accountant who cannot see the art in Picasso, the redneck who cannot admit of indigenous culture, and the pissant who cannot see the difference between Yeats and Bob Ellis.

Yep, there's bitterness and there's bile there in abundance. What a pity that pitiable retard Picasso fancied himself an atheist, thereby surely putting himself in the ranks of accountants when it came to understanding his own art.

It is not deep perception we encounter here, but a critical failure of imaginative capacity. It is a bit like the old joke: how many atheists does it take to screw in a lightbulb? None - no matter what they do, they just can't see the light.

Oh that's so clever and so witty, and really it's not the same as wheeling out an old religious libel is it? But seeing as that's where we're heading, how about we wheel out some other light bulb jokes?

Q: How many charismatics does it take to change a light bulb?
A: One, since his/her hands are in the air anyway. (or: One to change the bulb and nine to pray against the spirit of darkness, or: Three, one to cast it out and two to catch it when it falls!)

Q: How many Calvinists does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: None. God has predestined when the lights will be on. (Calvinists do not change light bulbs. They simply read the instructions and pray the light bulb will be one that has been chosen to be changed.)

Q: How many neo-orthodox does it take to change a bulb?
A: No one knows. They can't tell the difference between light and darkness.

Q: How many Amish does it take to change a light bulb?
A: "What's a light bulb?"

Q: How many youth pastors does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Youth pastors aren't around long enough for a light bulb to burn out.

Q: How many Anglo-Catholics does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: None. They always use candles instead.

Q: How many Brethren does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Change?????

Q: How many Baptists does it take to change a light bulb?
A: The whole congregation needs to vote on it!

Q: How many conservative Anglicans does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Three. One to change it and two to storm out in protest if the person changing it is a woman!

Q: How many United Methodists does it take to change a light bulb?
A: This statement was issued: "We choose not to make a statement either in favor of or against the need for a light bulb. However, if in your own journey you have found that a light bulb works for you, that is fine. You are invited to write a poem or compose a modern dance about your personal relationship with your light bulb (or light source, or non-dark resource), and present it next month at our annual light bulb Sunday service, in which we will explore a number of light bulb traditions, including incandescent, fluorescent, three-way, long-life, and tinted--all of which are equally valid paths to luminescence."

Oops, I see I got quite distracted there for a moment. Back to a final message from our sponsor:

The second wearying thing about the new atheism is that it is not new at all. It is so banally derivative of every piece of hate mail ever sent to God that I am amazed Satan has yet to sue for copyright infringement. No old chestnut is too ripe, rotten or sodden, especially when it comes to the Catholics as accredited suppliers of what apparently is the Christian equivalent of methamphetamine.

Time for an exorcism. Done in the old style. That bloody satan is getting uppity again, and the plagues are all around us. Where's bloody Max von Sydow when he's needed!

And hasn't Greg Craven done well. At time of writing over a hundred comments for the possum poking the stick at the satanists. Such a clever, witty shit stirrer.

Me? Just another day in loon pond, with surely Greg Craven as an exemplar of all that's of the finest water when it comes to comical writing of a loonatc kind ....

(Below: some handy warning signs, as noted here).