Zen and the art of Michael Lofton maintenance

The story so far:

You are a middle-aged man with a big head and a small beard, running a popular and lucrative website that some days has more than three viewers. Then guess what! Some jumped-up cardinal says cruel things about you!

It is your DUTY to put this Zen chap in his place!

This old man from Japan (memo: check this) dares to criticise Fiducia Supplicans - you know, that very important magisterial letter that told us that homosexual couples should be /blessed/ /shown the door/ /kissed/ /sent off to join the Jesuits/ ... well, we're not sure what, as the rules change every day. Still, priests can probably get away with blessing them provided that they cross their fingers while doing so, do not take more than 16.314 seconds over the task, and provided that the parties do not form a couple, but a pair, or possibly a brace, duo, or dyad. And the blessing must not look like a wedding - so no white dresses, bridesmaids, flowers, crying, or Wagner's immortal tune "Here comes the bride, short, fat and wide."

"I'll bet that this jumped-up cardinal doesn't even have tattoos all over his body!"

Well, you've got this Zen chap over a barrel now. He needs to be laicised, put on the rack, and (worst of all) forced to watch 200 hours of videos from your website "Reason and Theology - only joking, folks!" For he is clearly denying the Hermitage of Continuity, Vatican II, and the divinity of Pope Francis, and he is probably a Buddhist anyway, what with a crazy name like Zen.

Ha ha ha! Serve him right!

But HE BITES BACK. He tells people to stop wasting their "Michael's Pence" on your website, and instead to find a grown-up who knows what he's talking about!

You aren't standing for that! STEP 1: kick the cat. STEP 2: well, we'll think of something.

Next week: Cardinal Zen tells us what he thinks of Austen Ivereigh, Fr James Martin SJ, and "speedy" Cupich - who has just broken the record for the fastest ever Eucharistic procession.

Cardinal Cupich leads the procession (cue Yakety-Sax music).

New production of Wagner's Tristram and Odone

Wagner's great operatic love story, Tristram and Odone, was broadcast on the BBC last night, but so far the critical reaction has been hostile.

A more traditional Tristram and Odone.

Out went all the traditional features of this tale of doomed love. Tristram, no longer a heroic figure, was cast as a rather weak character who was terrified of nuns (it is claimed that a nun once called him "gay" when he was five years old).

Eeek! I've just seen a nun!

Odone, the love interest, was played as an Italian princess who had been educated by nuns. She was known throughout the kingdom as a champion of orthodox Catholicism (or at least the bits she agreed with).

The Princess Odone.

Comic relief was provided by Galberich, a Jew-hating dwarf. This is a character borrowed from Wagner's Ring Cycle, and not generally regarded as part of the Tristram legend at all.

Bring on the clowns!

However, the story has been changed out of all recognition. Tristram does indeed die - or at least lose his political career - but little else is recognisable.

Tristram dies of shock when he sees a ship bearing the black "nun" flag.

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Damian Thompson writes...

As a Wagner expert, I felt very disappointed by this production. Still, if it's available as an illegal download, I might just consider getting it!

Damian Thompson, Publisher of Spectator Religion, Society and Human Flourishing.

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Sister Judy Piranha writes...

Coo-eee, Tristram!!?? (That's enough Sr Judy Piranha...)

False Gods 1: Stephen Fry

Today we start a new series of posts, highlighting some of the more absurd things that people will believe in once they stop believing in God. And where better to start than with the cult of Fry?

Yes, at the time of writing six million people in the world are zombies.

Worship of Fry is a strange phenomenon. Probably it starts with an appreciation of his skills (20 years ago) as a comedian. Remember Jeeves and Wooster? Actually, that was Fry's first miracle: the scripts were such a travesty of the original stories, and the performances were so hammed-up, that he made P.G. Wodehouse turn in his grave.

The miracle of the unquiet grave.

It also gave Fry a reputation for intelligence, as if he himself (with a second-class degree) were as brainy as Jeeves. In the words of Oliver Goldsmith:

And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, 
That one small head could carry all he knew.

Later, Stephen was to benefit from the "Robert Robinson" effect: by hosting a quiz show, you are regarded as a clever person who knows everything, rather than just someone who can read the answer to a question off a cue card.

Oh yes, I also know about Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, ...

Thus, once it was established that Fry's IQ was approximately 350, it was only natural for him to write a few novels. They tend to be scatological and otherwise unsuitable for decent people, but they do have the odd joke in them too.

What puts the great god Fry beyond criticism in the fact that he is bipolar. This means that he allowed to be vicious and nasty to people he doesn't get on with - broadly speaking, anyone cleverer than he is - and can play the "Ooh look, I'm bipolar like Elgar, Edgar Allan Poe, Florence Nightingale and van Gogh" card if they respond. With the implication that he is somehow as talented as these people were.

One of Stephen Fry's best-known paintings.

Actually, most bipolar people manage to go through life without throwing public tantrums all the time.

So why is Fry considered to be a divine Being? Well, partly because he is omnipresent. Turn on the TV, and there he is telling jokes about child abuse on QI. On the radio he is telling everyone all about Verdi and Wagner - and possibly comparing their bottoms, but I didn't stay around long enough to find out. Perhaps you escape to the theatre and see him playing Malvolio - don't boo, or he'll storm off stage. So you go to the pub, and there he is, telling David Cameron all about how Russia needs more "Gay Pride" marches.

One of his pet hates is religion. You see, he cannot believe in any Being superior to himself, and it annoys him. Instead of people going to the church of Fry to intone the mantra "Bottoms, bottoms, bottoms" on a Sunday, they go to a real church and say "Kyrie Eleison" - or - if fans of Australian singers - "Kylie Eleison," at least according to the Tablet. Also, even Pope Francis isn't going to go on any "Gay Pride" marches. Well, I think not.

A present for Pope Francis (not worn).

Yes, Fry's comments on religion make even Richard Dawkins look polite and erudite: for example, this brilliant poem, evidently a product of his Edgar Allan Poe mood:

Mary had a little lamb 
It's fleece was white as snow 
All you religious ****s 
Just **** off and go. 
No more discussion with ***heads. Sorry.

(Since this blog is largely suitable for children, unlike the Twitter feed of Stephen Fry, I have had to do some editing here.) Oh, note the brilliant spelling "It's". All right, that's a cheap shot. A man who boasts of five degrees, even if most of them are honorary, can probably spell "Its".

Baa! And you can **** off too, Mr Fry.

No, I'm sorry, I have tried to bow down and worship Stephen Fry, but it just isn't possible. Definitely a false god.

Götterdamian

I has been asked for more details about de opera Götterdamian, Twilight of de Bloggs, and here is a synopsus dat I fuond.

Damian, king of the blood-crazed ferrets, builds a mighty blog called Telhallah, where heroes such as the legendary Otsota, Mundabor and Bencarta can gather to discuss the eternal verities; they attempt to decide who will be the next Archbishop of Westminster, whether Mario Conti is a real person or just a pasta dish, and why the Daily Telegraph is not published in Latin. As they sit round the fireside, quaffing mead, a pleasant and holy smoke arises from their discussions.

However, the blog is cursed, and the mighty fortress of Telhallah is soon invaded by monsters. First there comes Bosco the Clown, who interrupts every discussion, but he is ignored by almost everyone. Then an army of evil trolls arrives, led by the dragon Judyhaddock and her sidekick the gnome Pholas. All night long they attack the forces of Good.

Damian, horrified by this onslaught, changes tactics completely and attempts to appease the invaders. We learn that  Damian's staff, the symbol of his power, has been shattered... the veteran sage Gerald the Warner is banished to the frozen north, and even the Comedy Friar, George the Pitcher, vanishes. New philosophers, such as Peter of Mullen, take their place in the kingdom, but all are driven mad by the ravings of the Witch of Odone.

Finally, a further horde of trolls, with names such as "Father" Arthur, Daryl and Phil, invades Telhallah, pretending to represent the forces of Good. However, these trolls also ally themselves with the dragon Judyhaddock, who is now reincarnated as Molly the Bandit.

In vain the remaining philosophers attempt to hold the blog together, but Damian himself changes sides, and becomes a standard-bearer for the forces of darkness. The eternal verities are banned from Telhallah, and all that remains is a trivial discussion of celebrities, such as Johann the Hairy and Galloway the Cat-man. The blog disappears in a mighty flamewar, and the whine-maidens sing a final ROFL as eternal darkness falls.

De Voyage of St Eccles, Chapter 2

1. So it came to pass dat Eccles and Anti Moly-ben-Dite went to de Pottymouth trane station, for to catch de Indian Pacific trane to Sidney.

2. And de statoinmaster at Pottymouth hardened his heart and said, "Lo! Dis dame is a well-known trubble-maker and she aint gonna go on any of our tranes unless you puts her in a wooden crate."

3. And Moly she was very wrathful, but she knew dat dere was no real chioce, if she wanted to see her beloved, he dat is called Pell.

4. So Eccles he made a crate out of de finest gopher wood. Lo, it was 4 cubits long, and nearly 2 cubits wide and 2 cubits deep. And in it he placed his beloved ant, together wiv a supply of de finest liqours and a wondrous engine called an iTroll, wot is able to send forth insullts to bloggs on de Internnet.

5. And de Pottymouth stationmaster hardened his heart and said, "Peradventure we shuold also handcuff and gag de old biddy? For she will scream 'woful!' in de nihgt, when de honest man sleepeth."

6. But Eccles he pointed out dat de regullatoins for transportin livestock on de trane said dat dey must not be creul to de animules. So it came to pass dat he buoght himself a Saver ticket (for he was Saved) and he placed his beloved anti in de gaurd's van.

7. And Anti Moly spake forth wiv her iTroll, sayin, "WOFL, WOFL, WOFL. I has got an Easter message for all traddy fanatical Cathlics. Easter is a time for buying chockolate eggs and smashin dem over de heads of sockpoppets. It aint got no uvver purpoise."

8. But de Internett connectoin faileth, and her vioce cryeth out in de wilderness, "WOFL" and no man heareth de Easter message of Anti Moly.

9. Thus dey came to Sidney, a city of great baeuty and cullture, where dey hath an opera house and signeth all de famuous operas, such as "De Barber of Pottymouth," by Micki Rossini, and "Gotterdamian," abuot de Twillight of de Bloggs.

10. So dey released Anti Moly from her wooden box, and she walked in de streets wiv Eccles, her saved nehpew, wot is loved by de Lord and gets Vallentine cards from Him (althuogh some saith dat it was a practical joke played by his creul bruvver Bosco).

11. And dey meets a Momron, who saith "G'day, yuong man. We has a projject to bapptise all de dead poeple wot can't say no. But we also bapptises people wot is old and decreppit, so maybe de old skellington lady wot walks wiv you wuold like to be bapptised?"

12. "Whom hath thou bapptised recently?" asks Eccles.

13. "We has done Gahndi, Buhdda, Mahommed, Atilla de Hun and Pop Pious X. Dey is now all good Momrons," saith de Momron, "but dey doesnt ware de magic undies like we does, of cuorse."

Dat's a pitcher of Gahndi, wot is now a Momron

14. And he spake the name of de magic undies; that is, de Abracada Bra, de Wonderbra and so on.

15.  But Anti Moly saith that she hath no wish to be bapptised, and they moved on in deir quest for de Cradinal known as Pell.

16. So dey came in due course to de Cathlic Cathedral of Sidney, wot is called St Mary's.

17. And dey saw dat de Easter Viggil Mass was gonna be cellebrated by Cradinal Goerge Pell, who got de job of carryin de Easter Candel into de Cathedral. Probabbly he gonna kiss it, as dat's wot Cathlics doth.

18. "We gonna attend dat!" shreiketh Anti Moly in glee, and she began to make her plans.

Here endeth de seckond chapter of de story of Eccles's voyage to Sidney.

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Concluded here.