I Cannot Do That, Dave
Dear Dave Drunkenmiller-
I must compliment you on your brilliant nom de plume, as Robyn the Drunken Miller in The Canterbury Tales provides lovers of English literature and dirty jokes with a wonderfully filthy morality tale that pokes fun at the corrupt clergy of the early 14th century. Indeed, in your “diatribe” to that Godless atheist Justin Griffith, you had, as with parish clerk Absolon, the ultimate brown nose, farted a righteous blast of indignation in the face of true believers.
Indeed, your pen name was a wonderfully witty and erudite choice because what better way to drive home the absurdity of religion with a brilliant example of extreme ecumenical eructation than to take up the cause and the name of a teller of ribald tales from a great work of Middle English literature?
Nonetheless, your hilarious screed was pinned down like a mental patient in four point restraints by an underpinning of seriousness because the encroaching nature of religion in the armed forces is a problem that must be tackled immediately if not sooner. Still, unlike the founder of any religion, your faux identity as a pompous former chaplain is stunningly funny and more brilliant than any other faux conservative this side of Stephen Colbert and Jesus’s General.
Take, for instance, your insistence of being called “Sir” in this priceless passage:
In reference to my name, you can call me Sir. As a Sergeant, you should know how to respect a Commissioned Officer. I think you believe you wear the uniform proudly, I hope you do, but your blatant disrespect you show to leadership openly on the internet is offensive to me. I hope Senior Leaders deal with this!
If Sgt. Griffith were serious about you, and I can assure you, Dave, that he is not, he could call you anything he wishes. He could refer to you as Bag o’ God, Chaplain Chap-ass or anything he wishes. But obviously, since you’re a brilliant satirist and a fellow shooter in the foot of religion, you’re well aware that a retired commission does not remain in effect either now or in perpetuity.
Likewise, delicious was your character’s hypocritical take on the conversion issue. As we all know, the United States military, largely through the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, has been violating the United States Constitution for decades through its ceaselessly pathetic efforts to proselytize “the unchurched” as real bags o’ God prefer to call them (and coining a nonexistent word, in the process) and promoting one form of Christianity or another while in uniform, which is also blatantly in violation of the Constitution.
Furthermore, it was a real knee-slapper when you tried to “claim” that Sgt. Griffith was guilty of trying to stop others from practicing their religion instead of what he in fact is doing, which is in trying keep characters such as the one you adopted from shoving their own God and belief system in the faces of others like goat innards jiggling in the hand of a desperate vendor at an Arabian bazaar. Surely, a stunningly brilliant satirist such as you would see the not-so-subtle distinction.
Indeed, there is something seedy and desperate in a religion that seeks to convert nonbelievers. Perhaps it’s Christianity’s innate insecurity and ceaseless sense of persecution after going 0-9 in the Holy Crusades (in which they were so desperate for conscripts, they even employed, like Hitler in 1945, children). With the child molestation scandal rocking and rolling the Roman Catholic Church and the emerging revelations of the Church of England, the United Anglican Church and the Catholic Church conspiring to torture and murder over a 130+ year-long span of time tens of thousands of Indian children largely over logging rights in Canada, it’s almost understandable why such gibberish-spouting, Bible-banging, canvas tent-dwelling, snake-charming zealots would try to pump up their dwindling numbers.
But surely, as a master satirist, you already know this and do not need me to further elaborate.
In summation, dear Drunken Miller, you are a deadly wielder of words on a par with other great satirists such as Juvenal, Jonathan Swift and Tony “Psycho” Perkins of the hilarious Family Research Council. I eagerly await your future screeds.
Your humble and obedient servant,
Jurassicpork
4 Comments:
Nicely played, ...yeah. Trolls have names, even when they think, ...they don't. Well done.
Well done Pork. You slow roasted this man of Gawd on a spit of intellect and irony while basting his fatty flesh with the sweet and tangy sauce of satire. I look forward to your delicious application of "low and slow" cooking of this boar. When done, splay the swine on the picnic table and ring the dinner bell so all can feast on his piggly carcass.
Don't hold back, JP. Tell us how you really feel!
Nicely done, Jurassic Pork! You have said what I wanted to say but couldn't find words for as I read the unbelievable screed from Mr. Drunkenmiller. Then your brilliant insight cleared everything up: It's a work of fiction. Of course! Now it makes sense.
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