Our American God with Reverend Roy Pentecost

Brothers and Sisters,

The Gospel of Mark shares with us our savior Jesus Christ rejecting the demands of the Pharisees to produce a sign from above. Jesus responds to them, "Amen I say to you, there will be no sign given to this generation." (Mk 8:11) Well my brothers and sisters a sign has arrived. And that sign was presented to me in my July 18th edition of The New York Times.

The headline read, "Abstinence Education Faces and Uncertain Future." God as my witness I nearly fell from my kitchen chair. Luckily as I read on I discovered that other God-fearing Americans were upset and were rising up in arms over this important moral issue. Rather than share my own feelings about abstinence, I'll allow my old friend Eric Love, who is quoted in this New York Times article, explain the beauty of abstinence.

“You have to look at why sex was created,” Eric Love, the director of the East Texas Abstinence Program, which runs Virginity Rules, said one day, the sounds of Christian contemporary music humming faintly in his Longview office. “Sex was designed to bond two people together.”

To make the point, Mr. Love grabbed a tape dispenser and snapped off two fresh pieces. He slapped them to his filing cabinet and the floor; they trapped dirt, lint, a small metal bolt. “Now when it comes time for them to get married, the marriage pulls apart so easily,” he said, trying to unite the grimy strips. “Why? Because they gave the stickiness away.”

Thank you Eric for sharing with all of us the importance of 'the stickiness' that our God, Jesus Christ has given us!

But now my brothers and sisters allow me to explain to you what will happen if our children are deprived abstinence education in their public schools. Just imagine, "dirt, lint, a small metal bolt," attached to your young son or daughter. Except by dirt, lint and a small metal bolt, they mean STD's, alcoholism and being soft on terrorism.

By teaching our children to suppress the natural instinct to explore their bodies and associating adolescent questioning with mortal sin, we are saving the next generation of Christ's children. The Devil comes in many forms my brothers and sisters. Whether it be tight fitting clothing, make out sessions in the local shopping mall, graphic anime, snickering at the name 'Dick' or an unintentional erection while sitting on the wheel seat in a school bus. The Devil is everywhere.

The old slogan, "I gave my word to stop at third," can no longer save our children in this super sexed up era of commercialism and multiple partners. I'm now proposing new slogans to prevent the spread of 'Satanic Transmitted Diseases' within the kingdom of God here in America. Slogans such as: "Osama bin Laden wants you to make out, he says all the cool kids are doing it," and "Karen gave it up, Jesus gave up Karen," or "Everytime you nail your girlfriend you're just nailing Jesus to the cross all over again." I'm hoping to have 10,000 bumper stickers with these slogans on the road by next month.

Brothers and Sisters, together we can save our children.

God Bless you and may God Bless America

A Moveable Feast with Ernest Hemingway

"In New Hampshire, Mr. McCain did everything he could to reassure people that he would remain in the race. He delivered a somber speech on Iraq, gave local interviews, met with the editorial board of The Manchester Union Leader, and even held court with stories about his adventures as a midshipman, politics and Ernest Hemingway to a group of staff members and reporters over sodas at a pub near his hotel."

- New York Times June 16, 2007

WTF John, you little slut. Where do you get off associating my literary celebrity and brilliance with that gory massacre, that political My Lai known as McCain '08.

"Oh yes Uncle John tell us another story about old Ernie Hemingway." Yes, I'm sure the press was hounding you for those. "No Senator we don't want to hear anything about your promising plan for Iraq or if you'll relieve a six trillion dollar debt the same way you so properly balanced your own campaign budget, just tell us about that time Hemingway got his ass blown up in France."

No, there's only one Hemingway tale that hack knows. The press was smart enough not to reprint the story McCain told (due to strict censorship and my public threat of disembowelment), but before some trendy 'on the campaign trail' blogger and his MAC powerbook totally ruin my image, I'll share it with you here first.

The year was 1958 and McCain was in his senior year at the Naval Academy. I was in Annapolis, in leave from my home in Havana, for the annual Whore & Rum Family Picnic, a fundraiser for disabled children I sponsored with Puffin Press and that bull dyke Gertrude Stein. Anyway, after the picnic, I went to a local bar to finish up my night with whatever quantity of liquor the advance for my unpublished novel, Temptress in a Bottle, would buy me. It was there at that bar I met a young Navy man named John McCain. He said he was on R&R and I told him I was on my eleventh bottle of whiskey and had once fought a bull. We got to telling stories and I decided I would rock his face off with a story from my glory days at the Kansas City Star.

While reporting for the Star I came across word of a secret society located in downtown Kansas City. They'd been around since the early days of Western expansion and I was eager to join up with an established group of men I could drink heavily with and whisper secrets to. Needless to say, two weeks later I found myself in their secret chambers with the other recruits, all of us stripped down to our boxer shorts. Before long one of the leaders had brought a young goat into the room. From beneath his friar like cloak a dark, bellowing voice announced that if we wanted to become members of this secret brotherhood one of us would have to fuck the goat before dawn. Hours passed and no one had made any move towards this goat. It was almost sunrise and I was still pretty drunk from the previous afternoon so I stepped up and volunteered for coitus with the goat. All the other recruits slapped me on the back with thanks and praise and I knew once we had been initiated I would be remembered as the man who made the dream of joining a secret society a reality for so many young men. Naked and preparing to mount the young goat, I was quickly stopped by the man in the cloak. "Congratulations Brothers," he spoke, "you are all now in the secret society." Then he turned slowly towards me. "Except for you Ernest Hemingway," he said coldly, "we don't want any goat fuckers in our secret society." And from there I was cast out into the street naked, ashamed, and without my $15 cloak deposit.

It wasn't until weeks later I realized that in revealing that story I had jeopardized my reputation as the manliest man ever. And after years of living in fear I was relieved to hear that McCain and my most embarrassing story had been shot down over southeast Asia, but only to reappear on the scene six years later to my dismay. And now, in his time of political crisis, he's trying to deter negative media coverage from his failed presidential camp by making a fool out of Ernest Hemingway.


On his campaign website Senator McCain (R-Arizona) lists 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' as his favorite book. Oh John, you shouldn't have! Well guess what mofo, I just changed the dedication of that little book of mine from, ' to Martha [Gellhorn]' to 'VOTE MITT ROMNEY IN '08'

Suck it.

Our American God with Reverend Roy Pentecost

Brothers and Sisters,

A revelation was presented to me from my Lord Jesus Christ (via AP Newswire) in my July 11th edition of the New York Times. The article read: "U.S. counterterror officials are warning of an increased risk of an attack this summer, given al-Qaeda's apparent interest in summertime strikes."

At last! The final battle as predicted in the Book of Revelation. If those extremist bastards really do have an "interest in summertime," it can only mean one thing: Showdown at Splash World.

Because most people are on vacation throughout the summer, this means the general population is doing one of two things. Having BBQ in the backyard or going to Splash World. And because a standard suburban BBQ doesn't have the kill count these defects are looking for, it can only mean that Splash World is the primary terrorist target.

Two major factors will lead us to victory this summer:

1) God is on our side

2) These Colors Don't Run (not even in a fucking wave pool/lazy river)

Oh and it's going to pretty hard to sneak one of your suicide bombers into our Splash World Al-Qaeda, because a) everyone is wearing bathing suits (with the exception of God's big boned children who may swim in jeans) and b) everyone in America carries a gun (as instructed by our God given 2nd Amendment).

Brothers and Sisters this summer we must remain extremely vigilante, especially at Splash World. Any suspicious characters at the Water Whirly or Land of Lincoln Log Ride must be immediately reported. Any white powder not on fried dough or all over the cheeks of God's big boned children must be avoided.

While many will argue that profiling violates basic civil liberties, it will be an essential tool in our anti-terror efforts at Splash World. After working alongside Splash World ownership and officials at the Office of Homeland Security, we have devised a few ground rules for this high alert summer. Any individual not wearing a t-shirt with a dreamcatcher, Native American and/or nature scene with at least one wolf on a moonlit cliff is suspect (see insert image).



















Any individual not wearing a NASCAR hat or small fitting NASCAR tank top/sleeveless shirt with will be prohibited from renting a locker.

Remember my brothers and sisters, Secretary of Homeland Security Michael Chertoff has informed the American people that,"Summertime seems to be appealing to them [Al Qaeda],"

And it's because they're jealous of our backyard BBQ, bikinis, abundant supply of fresh relish and the thrills of the new Wild Canyon Falls 12 man tube ride at Splash World.

God Bless You and May God Bless America

The Maternal Instinct with Claire Starkweather Clarke

Waiting for my Husband to come home from work the other afternoon I found myself in our breakfast nook preparing delicious blue berry crepes and reading a recent edition of The Cleveland Scene and my goodness was I appalled.

To my disdain the major local headline read: Chicken Wars: Ohio becomes an underground center for cockfighting
(Read article here). What really ruffles my feathers, is that I'm just finding out about this now. The authorities have reason to believe this has been going on for years. Just recently they discovered a box of roosters being sent to the near West Side; close to where my church group and I spend our Sundays preaching to the addicted. (After all that soup, not once did any of those crack whores ever once think to invite me to a cock fight). After closely examining the box of cocks the authorities decided that these birds were, "headed for the not-so-bright lights of basements and garages, where they would do battle for amusement and wager." Goshdarnit! After all those years of endless bake sales and having to run that horrible 50/50 raffle at my step son's lacrosse games, all the PTA had to do was invest its "cookie fund" into a Peruvian Red Rooster and the library would probably have a new wing by now or at least a handicap ramp for that whiny family.

For those of you looking to adopt and train a roster for your local PTA here is how the sport works: "Owners strap three-inch gaffs sharpened like razors to the rooster's heels. A winner is declared only when one is dead or too injured to fight on." While most of our county's after school activities have been cut due to a lack of funding, this sport is inexpensive and looks to bring the whole community together. Currently, the ladies and I of the Dyer County PTA are looking to purchase roosters for every homeroom and have begun reaching out to local business to sponsor the construction of a fighting ring in the playground.

Recently, other mothers have come up to me and asked, "Claire, what do you say PETA and the local humane society who have publicly denounced you and your cock fighting ring?" Well girls, I smile and simply respond, "There's nothing cruel or unethical about giving my children a brighter future you tree hugging motherfuckers."

Hemingway's Review: Live Free or Die Hard

OMG! Talk about violence. I was in half a World War and once stomped a drifter to death on a pier and even I thought this was over the top.

The plot of Live Free or Die Hard is extremely reminiscent of my short story, "A Canary for One," except the movie is filled with high octane fun, explosions and mass destruction while, "A Canary for One" is about a bird in a Paris train station, and lacks overall substance.

To be quite honest, I don't remember anything about this movie. After shotgunning 43 beers and a fifth of Johnny Walker (blue label, jkjk) during the previews (which were seven minutes long for all you "men" out there), I was woken up by an usher three hours later.

I, Ernest Hemingway, give this movie two man points out of a possible ten Hemingway man points

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