Pat Robertson Is Scrooge In TACP’s Production Of “A Christmas Carol”

Humbug! And Up Yours, I Say!

Humbug! And Up Yours, I Say!

TACP is very proud to present: “A Christmas Carol,” with Pat Robertson as Scrooge, Barack Obama as The Ghost of Christmas Past, and the ghost of Christopher Hitchens as The Ghost of Christmases yet to come. The film opens on Christmas Eve. Get your tickets early, cause this movie is gonna rock! Brief scenes from the script by Quintin Tarantino will be presented on an ongoing basis right here to whet your appetite for the movie. The film was co-directed by Martin Scorsese and Lars Von Trier and features a sound track by John Williams.

Scene one: Scrooge’s bedroom, dusk. Scrooge is tossing darts at a dart board with the words “Obama Care” written in the bull’s-eye.  The Ghost of Christmas Past enters by crawling through an open window, startling Scrooge.

BOO! I'm The ghost Of Christmas Past!

BOO! I’m The ghost Of Christmas Past!

Scrooge: What in the name of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ, do you think you’re doing crawling into my house, black person? One call and your humbug butt gets arrested; then found guilty, and then executed for being a black man who crawled into a white man’s house through the window.

Ghost: I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, and I have come to show you how past Christmases have helped turn you into the grouchy-ass racist mother fucker you are today, Mr. Scrooge.

Scrooge: Racist? I’m not racist. Two of my septic tank cleaners are black, and another is an illegal alien who I pay a whopping 15 cents a day to. Humbug, I say! Humbug!  I’m about as progressive as you can get after surpassing a certain tax bracket. I’m conservative, a Tea Party member, a Christian, white, and rich.  You, know, a real American.

Ghost: Believe me, sir, you are far from being progressive on anything.  Now, take my hand and I’ll transport you back to earlier Christmases so you can see how the mother fucker you are today was formed.

Scrooge: Hand? I have to touch you to do this? But you’re black. I might catch something.  Have you done this before?

Ghost: Just take my fucking hand before I kick your old white ass all over the damn room.

Scrooge takes the Ghost’s hand and we fade to black.

End of part one.

The Lure, The Hook, Ken Ham, And I Am Not What I Am

“I am not what I am.”  Iago, in Shakespeare’s “Othello”, says this just after telling the audience he is going to destroy Othello’s life simply because he hates him. He is going to do this, he tells us, while outwardly appearing to be honest, loyal, and dutifully dedicated to Othello. He is referred to as “honest Iago” multiple times throughout the play. The cunning deceptions and subtle lures he uses to drive Othello into murderous madness and suicide are cleverly done and it is not at all obvious to anyone in the play what he is up to until it is far too late to do anything about it.  I, too, am not what I am.  I, too, have used lures to get fish to bite the special hooks I’ve left for them with some of the posts I write. However, my lures and hooks are not subtle. Nor are they hidden. As a matter of fact, they are so blatantly obvious there is no way in hell I thought anyone would NOT know what they were. But fish bite them every time I leave them without exception.

Believe me, I try VERY hard to leave lures that scream, “Don’t bite! It’s a trick,” just to see if fish will bite anyway. They always do. Yesterday the biggest fish yet bit. He bit so hard, my blog tripled the total number of people who’ve viewed it in the last 5 months in less than 3 hours. I still am stunned by it. I truly can not believe it. My reasons for writing this blog are very personal. I’ve no intention of ever discussing them here. But I assure you, as far as the writings on this blog go, I am not what I am. I never expected anyone to read this blog. I swear too much and I deliberately exaggerate my anger in many of the posts just because it gives me a woody when I do.  I’m glad for the few really cool people who do read it and get it though. I’ve made a few friends here I wouldn’t have otherwise, really decent people, too. But getting people to read it has never been my reason for writing it.  That said, I would like to thank Ken Ham for taking the bait I recently left out for him and creationists in a post I wrote about him being my Christmas dinner.

Ham Took The Bait, But Robertson's On The Menu Now

Ham Took The Bait, But Is He Still On The Menu?

He personally trashed it on his website ( I wonder why?) while leaving a link to it embedded in the article. Because he did that, countless new readers came by today. Several are now following this blog. I left a hook out there with a worm on it so massive and ridiculously obvious I NEVER in 6000 years thought ANYONE would bite it, least of all Ham himself. Ham is most certainly not who I thought he was. I always believed he was highly intelligent and intuitively bright. And I had respect for his common sense about the world around him. But anyone who takes the bait I leave out in posts from this blog, a blog clearly written by an imbecilic buffoon claiming he deserves a Nobel Prize because he pontificates so well on things he knows nothing about, is a very, very long way away from being bright or intelligent.

When conservative Christians say a-theists are evil and will burn in hell because they do not believe Jesus is god, I’m offended to the marrow of my bones. I feel as though my life and well-being are in imminent danger. To be morally damned and hated merely because I exist is not something I find palatable. Thus, I feel it only fair to share these feelings with those who gave them to me by writing posts deliberately meant to do just that.  A childish revenge game perhaps, but it makes me feel good to play it so I’m not stopping. I always think no one will be dumb enough not to see what it is I’m really doing, but someone ALWAYS takes the bait, and it ALWAYS surprises me when they do. I’m not disappointed they do. Just surprised they can’t see how deliberately the trap was set. I don’t post any of the comments made by these fish either because I don’t care what they think of me, only that I offended them, for at least awhile, in the way they offend me. I like that. I also get a few stunningly idiotic comments from a-theists on these posts telling me “my argument was too crude and doesn’t represent a-theists correctly.” My argument? WHAT argument! You read a post about the cannibalization of Christians on a blog filled with utterly ridiculous nonsense written by a clown who says he deserves a Nobel Prize just because he wants one and you think it was intended as a serious argument?! AND you then feel compelled to comment on it as if you think it I care?  Ugh! As well, I get a few “expert” literary critics who leave comments which will never be posted wishing to enlighten me to the fact that writing about eating Christians and boiling them alive is too crude and over-the-top to be good, effective satire. Really? I’d never have guessed that. Thanks.

To conclude, I’ll reiterate a few things. I write this blog for very personal reasons. I’m God on it and I approve comments I like. If that aggravates you, good. I want it to. I don’t like you. And BTW, your fly is open. I do not care if what I say isn’t fair, isn’t great satire, is offensive to you, is crude, or doesn’t present a-theism correctly. I’m not presenting a-theist arguments here. I’m here to bother people unfairly. I like it. It gives my a stiffy. I love that I caught Ham on my hook. It means I got to him with the most inane, crude, and nonsensical made-up crap imaginable. I pissed him off. I bothered him. And I truly did not think he’d fall for my trap. THAT makes me feel good. Is it petty? Yes. Childish? Yes. Effective, fair arguing? No. And I can care less. What’s amazing, too, is the idiots who commented how threateningly real the chances actually are I’m really going to eat Mr. Ham. No way in hell that’ll happen folks. I’ve decided I’m eating Pat Robertson on Christmas instead.  BTW, this is BAIT. A lure. It’s on a hook. THE WHOLE POST IS A LURE. And you fish will still bite it, won’t you. I am not what I am. Writing is great therapy and a great release. Gotta go walk my dog and drive my Pastor to the airport in bit. Night all.