give me Religion, Lordy, Lordy
at the door, look whos here
Two suits knocking say the End is near
One had a Bible in his hand
The other had a life investment plan.
tailed a merchant banker to a clandestine meeting the other day. The
job was part of an ongoing investigation into the notorious Oasis development,
which has made many politicians nervous, shattered Liverpool Council
and exposed the dark soul of Sydneys elite.
wasnt an easy tail. Its notoriously hard to lock onto a
subject in the city because its hard to park while youre
waiting for him to drive out of an underground car park, and theres
the problem of multiple traffic lights and kamikaze pedestrians.
concentration and edgy driving are required, so I persuaded Joadja to
operate the cameras and recruited Abdul The Cabbie to back me up. Plus
I spent a couple of days watching from the street and established that
the subbie usually left the office just after one pm.
and I pulled up in Pitt Street just before one and past his exit point
and I mucked around under the bonnet, playing for time. Abdul loitered
on the other side of Martin Place with the metre running, as if he was
waiting for a fare.
It worked fine. I fixed the car just as his BMW passed us and pulled
in a couple of cars behind him at King Street lights. Abdul lurked a
bit further back.
tailed him up Oxford Street and down Anzac Parade, changing off
the lead a couple of times so he wouldnt always see my white
Toyota in the rear-view.
he pulled into the carpark at the Maroubra Seals Club. I backed into
a space at the beach carpark across the road and radioed Abdul to stop
short, down by the shops.
filmed the subject walking into the club. I watched with binoculars.
Was he meeting somebody? Five minutes passed, then a late model white
sedan pulled up outside the club. A parliamentary car? Yes! I whistled
softly under my breath as a colourful ALP identity hopped out, spoke
to the driver, and strolled inside.
was probably going to be a long boozy lunch. I sent Jo to scout around
inside and settled down to wait.
wasnt much to look at, but my eye was caught by a wonderful juxtaposition
of lunacy gracing the ugly southern wall of the club. On the right was
huge poster from the fundamentalist Jews for Jesus campaign. Be
a Real Jew Believe in Jesus, it said. Alongside was a poster
for Underworld, the vampire thriller, featuring Kate Beckinsdale
with a big semi-automatic, a bad haircut and clumpy boots. The slogan
read: An ancient feud in a gothic Metropolis: Deadly action, ruthless
intrigue and forbidden love.
pretty much sums up the last couple of thousand years of theological
history, but recently, things have started going from mad to worse.
What with the advent of the barking mad Jensen brothers, even the staid
old Church of England has fallen into the clutches of people who think
the Bible is literally The Word of God.
Jensens (who cant prove either that God exists, or that he dictated
the Bible, or that the C of E has his franchise, except by saying the
book says so) are telling the credulous that all the other religions
are evil because theyre worshipping the wrong God.
This is dangerous obscurantist twaddle nobody has ever come up
with any independent, testable, evidence that an all-powerful supernatural
being exists, let alone that he favours any particular sect.
couple of desperate Jewish parents recently asked me to trace their
daughter who had apparently run off with Jews for Jesus. I looked into
their bewildered eyes and referred them to a cult deprogrammer, but
not before doing an internet search on JFJ.
was a sad case: another of the dumb neo-conservative fundamentalist
groups that infest Middle America. These people are Christian Zionists
with a deep antipathy towards Muslims, moderate Christians, unbelievers
and Palestinians (even the Christian ones). The reason theyre
so keen to convert Jews is that, in their mad world of eschatological
prophesy, the conversion of the Jews signals The End of Days.
guru is one Martin Moishe Rosen, a Baptist hayseed from
Denver, who saw the light at a motel on the road to the North-West Bible
College. It was a brutally hot night, and the Lord kept him awake, whispering
tyres, tyres, tyres in his ear. He went out with a torch
but he couldnt see anything wrong and the Lord sent him again
and again until he looked under the car and saw that the right-front
was bulging and about to blow. Thus the Lord saved him from a blowout
on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.
is proof of nothing, except perhaps that Rosen is wilfully credulous.
He calls it a God incidence, but it looks to me like a nervous
man having a sleepless night. Why didnt the Lord just whisper
right-front tyre and save him the trouble?