APOLOGIES

The flap over the recent report on predator priests has sent wave after wave of Catholic apologies into the world. But is it a case of too little too late?

At the very least.

Personally, I'm waiting for the Pope to make the Big Apology, to say he's sorry on behalf of Christianity for foisting this God/Jesus nonsense on the world for so long in the face of its obvious failure to live up to its early hype as an end of the world cult.

According to the Gospels, Jesus told his followers the end of the world would occur during their generation, that one of them would live to see it, and that it would happen before they could get to all the towns and villages to tell folks it was about to happen.

Though these words were supposedly spoken forty years before the fall of the Second Temple—an event that would have been looked on as an obvious precursor to the end of the world—they were not actually written until after the destruction of the temple. Consequently, the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven was woefully overdue when the prediction was published.

Fast forward two thousand years, and still no Apocalypse. Seems we've been misled.

(I know, "apocalypse" doesn't mean "end of the world;" it means "revelation"—in this particular case, the revelation of the end of the world. Similarly, "Armageddon" is the name of the place where the final battle of good and evil is to take place, not the name of the actual conflict. Words take on short-cut meanings, and that can't be helped. Also, it's all a bunch of crap, so keeping it straight is pretty much a waste of time. Like fighting over possession of the deck chairs on the Titanic—only to find out you can't lash 'em together to make a life-saving raft.)

The Pope says we should face these contentious times with silence and prayer. Which sounds to me like: Keep your mouth shut and let the Big Guy take care of everything.

It also sounds like what a predator priest might tell one of his young victims.

Along with: Stop your whining, you little brat! It's a blessing to find my anointed penis going where God Almighty desires it to go. And by the way, if you tell your parents about our little encounters, I'll make sure they end up in hell for all eternity. I have that authority. Don't think I won't use it!

Wow! Good thing all that power is vested in those special human beings, fellows trained to know what God wants and how to get it done. After all, who in this world can you trust, if not your priest?

For some of those guys, it was like a license to print money. Or tap the prettiest ass, as the Good Lord directs.

God: man's most successful invention—ubiquitous, all consuming, and not to be ignored. Accept no substitutes. Ride or die.

The Pope will never come clean about Christianity. He knows he's already as clean as he can be. After all, he's been washed by the blood of the lamb.

When in the Matrix, always take the blue pill. You won't want to miss a glorious second of 1999—it's the best year ever, world without end, amen.