There's a bit in the Screwtape letters where John Cleese talks about a learned man, who, one morning while studying in a library, suddenly begins to doubt his atheism. On the verge of this Pauline moment, his tempter Screwtape suggests that he get some lunch, and thus the moment passes. Go Satan and all his minions.
I came here today to write about Katie Taylor. I had a load of good shit ready to go about a SWAT team bursting into the Olympic village, taking out the shambolic Group 4 security guards, before crashing into the room where Taylor might have been found listening to her favourite gospel tunes on a Discman. Her father Pete would have leapt up, before being instantly taken out by a rifle butt to the mouth. I was almost certainly going to put in some flying teeth. Katie herself would have gotten one good punch in, detatching the retina of one of her assailants before being wrestled to the ground, her hands pinned behind her back as her face was smushed into the cheap nylon carpet. Chances are I would have changed the word smushed in the edit. Then the Gimme gold:
"We've come for your medal, bitch."
Taylor, dignified even through this indignity, holds her peace. Her mother, in the corner of the room, three AK47s inches from her face, shaking, weeping, gasps:
"Who sent you?"
The leader of the team, a blonde haired, blue-eyed man with the word 'Gabriel' stenciled into his uniform barks:
"Who the fuck do you think?"
"Putin?" This croaked by Taylor from the ground.
"Fucking Putin? You dumb bitch. No, 'Katie', wanna guess again?"
"Well then, I'll fucking tell you. Jesus. Jesus sent us. You said it yourself, you stupid slag, He did it all, it's all down to Him and now He wants what's coming to him."
He rips the medal from around Taylor's neck.
"We'll be taking the Adidas and Lucozade money too. Denying queers basic human rights ain't cheap."
So I probably would have put a little more flesh on those bones but you get the basic gist, right? Thing is, as I moseyed on up to the old Gaia I happend to glance at the last bit I flung together, and what do you fucking know, that was Jesus related too. What the fuck is the matter with me? Two posts in a year and they're both about how much I just don't dig The Naz? Doth the lady protest too fucking much or what?
I envy the faithful folks. I envy Taylor's certainty. I envy her humility. And one of these days I'm going to sit me down in a library and conjure up my own Pauline moment. I'm going to accept Jesus into my life, stop being a selfish, insecure, directionless cunt and get to some proper gay hating.
But first, I think, some lunch.