Putting the Fun back in Fundamentalism : Evangelical Entertainment, Part I
Hello everyone, and welcome to a special three-part edition of the Weekly Nutwatch! I’m your host, QueenofSwords, and the sites featured during the next three weeks are spreading the Good News while simultaneously indulging themselves to the limits of their creative talent – and beyond. There’s multitasking for you. And when it comes to fiction, the fundamentalists now have something other than the bible to enjoy; get ready for the first of the unholy trinity, because this week’s Nutwatch takes on
To my disappointment, the directory features many subheadings but few stories, some of the stories being listed under two or more subheadings to make up for the lack. Still, it’s quality rather than quantity which matters, and the first item on the menu – an X-files wannabe – has fundamentalism oozing from its pores. I thought the author would call himself Christ Carter, but she’s Bethan Davis instead, and her story is the riveting
Galilee straightened her suit coat,
Right away you get the impression that this story is going to be as subtle as a punch to the stomach, and nearly as enjoyable.
reminding herself of her purpose here today. The Bureau was unhappy with her work. What had they called it?...Proselytizing.
That’s her work? She’s employed to spread her religion around? In this alternate universe, FBI must stand for Fundamentalist Brigade of Indoctrination.
Apparently talking about her religion was strictly forbidden by the higher ups in the FBI.
Galilee thinks that the separation of church and state is something that occurs at the rapture, when all the True Christians™ are taken away.
She loved her job... Then again, she loved God more. If He chose to lead her in a different direction, she would follow unquestioningly.
If He chose to lead his sheep into an abattoir, she would imagine the delicious mutton He would eat that night.
"Agent Gilchrist, please have a seat." Assitant Director Baxter greeted with a cordial smile. He was an actor beyond compare.
“Can I have your autograph, sir?” Galilee asked, blushing.
The man could mold his personality to fit the occassion. Today, the deceiver was adopting a sickeningly sweet, condescending tone.
The deceiver? Poor Galilee, he must have told her that there was no Santa Claus.
"These people have been through quite an ordeal. You're supposed to be helping them, not filling their heads with this religous garbage."
he said, in a sickeningly sweet, condescending tone. You want to include this, Bethan, because it’s not at all obvious from his very reasonable comments to her.
"It isn't garbage!" Galilee was getting angry now.
“Garbage is other people’s beliefs, not mine!”
“It is because of those ordeals that they need God. He's the only one who can ease their grief..."
“He’s the only one who can strike them dead on the spot. Grief over, what more do you need?”
"You're harrasing these people! Now, I told you the last time we had this discussion that if you were caught proselytizing again that you would be put on suspension."
Galilee's brown eyes flashed.
If only they could do that often enough, she might be able to give Beastly Baxter an epileptic seizure. Then let him try to stop her from harassing anyone.
“Don't bother, Sir." She tore the ID from her suit jacket and threw it at the man. "I quit!" As she made her way to the parking garage, she began to doubt her decision.
All she had done was throw her ID at the man. Why hadn’t she been more like Jesus, and hit him with a whip of cords?
What was she going to do now? She'd spent years working for the FBI. What else could she possibly do for a living?
She eyed a fast-food restaurant, and imagined herself throwing fries at Baxter while simultaneously witnessing through the drive-in radio. It was a McHeaven beyond her wildest dreams.
With a sigh of frustration, Galilee unlocked the door of her Cheverolet Cavalier and slid into the driver's seat. God held her.
He knew what was in store for her future.
Food stamps, and lots of them.
She was secure in that. She just needed someone to remind her of that truth upon occasion. As she slipped the key into the ignition, her eye caught sight of something rectangular and white…
A complimentary sample from Depends.
it was a note she didn't remember placing on her dashboard… Galilee's eyes doubled in size.
Her eye sockets failed to do the same. The End. Unfortunately, that’s wishful thinking; despite her sudden and unique medical condition, she survives and drives home. The note is written by “Malachi”, who is presumably the unnamed speaker addressing God in the next paragraph :
"Sir, mission accomplished… She should be home in three minutes… The Wicked One's out there, Sir. I can smell him."
“His top note is a fresh floral with hints of citrus, but his base note is warm, musky, and sensual. He’s the best thing Givenchy ever put out.”
At home, Galilee finds three men waiting to give her some news about her parents.
"Yes, my parents are missionaries. Their most recent project was a primitive tribe who has had little contact with the outside world. Others have speculated that they might still be practising canabalism."
“But enough of silly rumors. Would you like to stay here for dinner? A big plump fellow like you might enjoy fava beans and a nice Chianti.”
"Miss Gilchrist..." One of the other men joined the conversation haltingly. "We have reason to believe that your parents' testimony was not received well by the tribesmen."
“For some reason, the tribesmen didn’t fall down in ecstatic gratitude at these foreigners disparaging the customs followed by their ancestors and their entire society. Strange, isn’t it? That works so well in those tracts I gave your parents.”
"Not received well?" Her face pailed. “They're dead...aren't they?"
“Yes, Miss Gilchrist. When the tribespeople failed to heed the Good News, your parents sacrificed them all to the greater glory of God.”
"You're parents were apparently seen as demon worshippers by the tribesmen. They were told to leave and denounce their God.”
Even Jesus says that if someone will not receive him, you’re supposed to shake the dust off your feet and get out. If the converting couple had only listened to him, they would be alive right now. Then again, considering that their life’s goal was to die and go to heaven, I can understand their suicidal tendencies.
"By the looks of things, they were tortured for several weeks.”
By the looks of things? So the tribespeople transcribed the happenings, or maybe made a videotape of them?
They were denied food and water,
Try denying someone water for several weeks.
given minimal amounts of sleep, and subjected to physical traumas such as cuts,
The tribesmen imported paper in order to inflict this particular trauma on them.
burns, and beatings in an attempt to make them forsake their faith. When that didn't work, they were offered as a sacrifice to the tribal gods to make amends for their blasphemy. Parts of their bodies were later consumed as part of that ceremony."
Luckily they had organ donor cards, so all the useful parts were put on dry ice and shipped back to the United States immediately. Seriously, though, I’m relieved that nothing more can be done in this passive-voice-infected melodrama. If this was written by a Roman Catholic, the Vatican would have declared the martyrs both saints by now, and people would be seeing their faces in omelettes.
Galilee could actually feel her heart break… She wanted to throw herself off the nearest mountain and plummet to her death on the sharp rocks below.
If only she would. This ridiculous fanfic has about twelve chapters more.
But, she would do none of these things. "They would never betray Christ. God would have given them the strength to overcome any physical ordeal with which they came in contact.
Ah, this explains how they lived for several weeks without water. How kind of God, to keep them alive for the torture and sacrifice.
They couldn't have asked for a more noble death. They died in His service. I'm sure He's already rewarded them.”
No, they got away from you. That was reward enough.
One man had stayed behind. Jordan remained on the sofa with a perplexed frown.
Man. Biblical name. Stayed behind. Perplexed. Meet the hero, ladies and gentlemen. My guess is, their children will be named Jerusalem, Nazareth, Salcah and Kirjath Jearim.
"You don't blame them, do you? The men who killed you're parents...you aren't upset with them?"
“Well, I’m trying not to be upset. You see, I must only think happy thoughts when I’m in Rainbow Land, otherwise the teddy bears won’t come to dance with me.”
"My parents knew what they were getting into. They've always been ridiculed for their religion.
“The Church of Clown Cross-Dressing warned them that might happen.”
It seems almost fitting that they die as they lived...
“Feeding the hungry.”
strong in their faith despite the opinions of others…" Galilee's lips curled up in a smile as she recalled the story her father had told her so many times. It was a bittersweet smile, for her would never tell her this story again.
Either the author has confused a pronoun or this fanfic could be retitled Galilee Has Two Mommies. The story she tells is equally melodramatic, set in a Chickverse where every Christian is a paragon of every virtue, and the rest of the world can only marvel at their leetness. Mr. and Mrs. Missionary were once devout Jews, but they stopped at the scene of a car accident to help the people hurt there, and a survivor converted them. “Why have you repaid evil for good?” Genesis 44:4.
"You gave us back our lives, Mr. Yahudi. I would very much like to give you back your soul."
“I’ve had it in my Lost and Found cabinet for eight years, along with a pair of bifocals and a G. I. Joe.”
…he was intrigued by this woman's faith. Her husband had just died, leaving her to raise two young children on her own.
You mean she’s not going to marry again immediately? She means to be a single mother? Sinner!
And yet, she was taking the time to 'witness' to him… It would be two hours before Cynthia finally finished telling Josiah and Shoshanna about salvation. "I believe that God has taken a terrible tragedy and turned it into an event to glorify Him."
“You see, God needs glory as a heroin addict needs a fix. Yet He cannot make glory from nothing, nor can He derive glory from people living productive, happy lives. But the moment there’s death and misery – oh, how glorious for Him that is!”
"[My parents] were both Saved and converted to Christianity… My father's dream was to lead other people to salvation in the same way that he had been led."
He went around starting auto accidents and witnessing to the survivors. That resulted in his getting packed off to a Third World country where the people expressed their displeasure with their spoons.
Jordan's shock was evident. His handsome face was a mirror of amazement.
Galilee looked into it and applied some lipstick.
Galilee laughed.
“Oh, Jordan, you look so funny when I goose you.”
"Most speech pathologists have a hard time pinpointing my exact place of origin. I can drop [the accent] if it annoys you." She offered.
"No!" He flushed slightly and laughed. "I mean, no. It's beautiful. I've never heard anything quite like it." It was Galilee's turn to blush.
After hearing that two people were killed and eaten, these, er, characters are in the mood to laugh, flirt and blush. It’s Natural Born-Again Killers.
"So, you don't blame God for any of this? Shouldn't He have protected them?"
“Under the terms of the contract, they were protected from storms, floods, poisonous jellyfish and tax audits. God did offer extra cannibalism coverage, but they couldn’t afford the added charge to their premiums.”
"He did protect them, just not the way you or I would think of protection. He protected their souls and their faith.
“If the cannibals had tried to bite into their souls or cook their faith, God would have smited them good!”
They didn't give into the physical torture not because they were strong, but because Jesus was by their side holding their hands.”
Jesus : Mmm, delicious! Lots of little bones, though. Pass me another, please, I’m still hungry.
“They knew He was with them. He may not have protected their bodies from death, but that's all right.”
“Bodies, shmodies. There’s only so much a god can do, you know.”
“He saved their souls from damnation. You're not a Christian, are you?" She asked bluntly.
Joshua : Gosh, Galilee, what tipped you off? The fact that I wasn’t making as many excuses for your god’s impotency as you were?
"Not really. I was never into that whole 'born again' thing. I just don't see how a 'loving' God can allow the terrible things in this world to occur."
"If you're ever in the mood to discuss you're problems with Christ you let me know. I spent my childhood dissuading doubts like yours... Please, feel free to call me anytime."
“As you can see, I have no idea how to handle the Problem of Evil at this time, so I will simply evade the issue. My future career in christian apologetics is assured.”
Jordan's mouth dropped open.
Galilee reached out and placed her business card carefully inside it. Seriously though, Jordan seems easily surprised. Perhaps he hasn’t met too many fundamentalists, lucky guy.
This woman had just learned her parents had died brutal deaths thousands of miles away...and here she was offering to give *him* answers to *his* doubts. She really was an amazing woman
Amazingly sociopathic. Perhaps that’s one of the consequences of fundamentalism : you’re so fixated on converting more and more people that you become inured to small mundane problems like your parents becoming pies. The Cross Files features several more episodes – which I didn’t read and which I’ll guess detail Jordan being led by his balls into the fold – but the Nutwatch needed something different, so I looked at another story. Oh man, was this one ever different. I don’t understand how it was even included in a supposedly Christian collection, because Mark Nieves’s handiwork combines sexual assault, Xena, dungeons and dragons with a steaming pile of ludicrous prose in the story
Long ago in 726 AD… in the land of Britain, a young couple runs in fear as they are a dark creature pursues them...
I can tell the narrative style in this effort is going to be interesting, to say the least.
I’ve never seen anything like it, thought the young man. I am certain it wants to kill us.
Are you sure? Maybe it just wants to give you a copy of The Watchtower; have you thought about that?
Maybe even brutalizes us before it drinks our very souls.
Maybe it should just correct your English, perhaps a more painful act for you than the brutalization and soul-drinking, whatever that means.
The young woman is more of a wreck as she cries in fear every time she stumble’s with her long skirt and falls…
Ah, finally we get to see the first fundamentalist of the story.
The thunder thrashes twice and the creature lets out a high pitch yell as an instinct signal that it’s on the hunt.
This is your brain stem on drugs.
As they keep running, they stumble upon an abandoned 2-story cottage… As they make their way through the dark hall, the man takes two small rocks from the dirty floor and strikes them against an old torch…
Nothing happens, naturally. He strikes them again and again, fast, and then repeats the striking three times slowly, until it dawns on the girl that he’s using Morse code, so she leaves him for the monster and escapes. The End.
They hear the high pitch yell of the creature drawing nearer. Maybe even toward the cottage. Thought the girl, I hope it didn’t track us.
Thought the girl, I wonder how it tracked us. Thought the man, Gosh, I’m glad we have this brightly burning torch to light our way. Thought the monster, Boy, what a couple of nitwits.
They heard the grass outside mush down. Oh no, thought the young man. That sounds like footsteps on the lawn.
Brilliant, Holmes! However did you deduce that?
They then hear nails scratching against the walls of the house like something looking for a way to get in as if it were a dog scratching the door whimpering to get in from the rain.
The kindergarten teacher must have been handing out prizes for the longest sentence on the day this was written.
I hope that’s a stray dog, thought the girl. And not what I hope it’s not.
I hope it’s a stray dog too. Cujo.
They rush down the thunder lit hall to the nearest door. It led to a big bedroom. They go in and lock the door behind them.
I’ll pass over the improbability of thunder lighting anything and just say that in any other fanfic, the progression of the main characters to a bedroom might lead to a hot sex scene. Interestingly enough, in this one it does too, if you define “hot” as “boring” and “sex” as “wannabe bestiality”.
Oh Holy Christ, thought the girl, please get us get out of this alive. I’m one of your most faithful servants. I don’t understand why I’m being punished like this. But you know and see all so please, just let us live.
Oh Holy Christ, in keeping with his performance in the previous story, answers her prayer by letting the monster burst in on them.
“Lord have mercy!” said the young man in dreadful horror.
“Lord, have Mercy instead!” said the young man, pointing at his girlfriend Mercedes. “She’s all yours! Take her and spare me!”
“Oh no!” sobbed the girl. “We’re all gonna die!!”
“Me and Toto and Auntie Em and Uncle Henry!”
The creature was six feet in height, with elf ears, lemon glowing eyes…
Let me guess… it cries lemonade.
It… scratches her face knocking her down. The girl screams as loud as she can, which somewhat stalled the creature, but in turn leads it to scratch the other side of her face.
Whoa, it’s a scratchfic. Should good Christians even be reading salacious material like this – outside of the bible, that is?
As the creature rips off her clothing,
it exclaims in delight over the brand names and pretty colors, then wriggles into its newly acquired wardrobe and skips away, singing, “I feel pretty, oh so pretty…”
a woman’s voice comes from behind. The creature yells as it walks slowly toward the long black haired woman… Her lips were of a bright rose color… her appearance was that of a spicy Latina.
What is this story supposed to be, Christian erotica for the porn-again?
With a smirk, she stretches out her arm and with the flick of a finger, blows the creature back four feet… The Goblin lets out a high pitch whale…
The whale lets out a high pitch Jonah. Hey, this fanfic needs a bit more christianity in it.
“Oh no.” said the girl in fright with a strained voice. She must have saved me to be sacrificed to Satan, thought the girl. A peasant virgin who nobody will miss.
At last, the fanfic got something correct. Unfortunately, the girl, subsequently introduced as Amy, is allowed to live, and her rescuer proves to be even less of an original constuct than she is, something I hadn’t thought possible.
“But if Jephthan’s your husband,” said Amy. “Then that makes you, Cassandra Warrior Priestess.
And that would make Amy Gabrielle, if she wasn’t the incarnation of incompetence.
A lot of people have heard about your powers. It’s rumored that you receive them from the Heavenly Father our God himself. Is that true?”
“Yes it is.” said Cassandra.
“Now, Amy, perhaps you could help this Nigerian friend of mine who’s trying to transfer a great deal of money out of his country.”
“Only when you commit yourself fully, truthfully, and whole heartedly to the Father and commence your spirit into his hands, will he use you as he does me.”
He’ll give you the mighty finger-flicking force as well, and make you look like a spicy Latina! Seriously, though, Cassandra soon reveals that her purpose in the area is to investigate a strange phenomenon.
“Plunder castle sent out a thick life force beam through it’s sky-light.”
“Life force?” said Amy with confusion.
“The ultimate building block of our soul that gives us our consciousness and permits us.” said Cassandra.
Gee, she must be really powerful and smart to see that and know what it means, thought Amy.
Gee, indeed. I was sitting here wondering what exactly the ultimate building block of our (presumably collective) soul permits us to do, but Amy is blithely oblivious to little piddling details like that, though she does chime in with admiration and even psychoanalysis of her newest bestest buddy.
She must have a lot of super powers if she’s a fighter, thought Amy. Maybe she’s an Amazon, an Amazon Priestess.
And maybe she’s an Amazon, an Amazon Basin. Or maybe she’s an Amazon, an Amazon Dot Com.
I’m surprised she could land a husband at all, thought Amy. She probably didn’t have a strong father figure growing up.
The fanfic is almost interminable, but at that point I had had more than enough of Amy’s Freud impression and the nonexistent plot, so I tried one last story. I used to think I was an iconoclast, but that was before I found a fanfic combining Jesus with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Narrated by Chuck Lee, a martial artist who used to fall asleep in church – hence his current damned status – this is Chang Lee Ninja’s
After a week of showing my natural talent,
“and my delightful lack of modesty,”
I was offered a deal to join a secret club, called The Foot.
I always wondered why the gang was called The Foot. Did they have a fetish? Were they like the numerous children of the old woman in the nursery rhyme, living in a shoe?
I was told that the leader of this syndicate was interested in me personally.
“We lived happily ever after. The End.”
They told me to call him Master Shredder.
He was the most powerful blender in Wal-Mart, able to puree a pound of pears in five seconds flat.
We weren't afraid of anything. We stole everything from everyone. And if anyone got in our way, well, they didn't protest for long. Yet, it seemed a part of me was missing.
Have you checked if you were born into a Jewish family, Chuck?
It felt like something was wrong. And then it happened! I went to church and was able to stay awake!
It’s amazing what a barbed-wire jock strap will do for you.
I heard of this God that created and loved so much, He sent His only Son to die for us, me! That without His forgiveness we, I, would end up in eternity without Him. This is what I was searching for! A meaning to my life!
If you consider it meaningful to be damned to eternal torture unless the damner kills himself in order to commute the punishment to eternal kowtowing.
"I have dropped out of The Foot. And we can assume that Master," I shivered in saying that word, "Shredder will not allow it."
"Woah, dude. Why did you shiver?" Michaelangelo asked.
“I’m uncontrollably attracted to turtles, and you guys don’t exactly have a lot of clothes on. Rrrowr!”
"I have become Christian and cannot bow down to anyone.”
“The moment I accepted Jesus, my rheumatoid arthritis went out of control.”
“The thought of him having mastery over me is something I am not proud of." I could see the turtles were a bit uncomfortable.
The hot coals I had slipped down their shells were finally having an effect. I knew I would have a delicious soup for dinner that night.
So I asked, "How are you going to watch me?" Donatello spoke up, "We'll escort you home tonight and then watch you for a week. You won't see or hear us."
“Leo, you cut off his ears. I’ll do the eyes.”
I prayed, "Dear Lord, Thank you for sending your Son, Jesus Christ to die for my sins. Please help me to become as you need me to be, but to be honest I don't know how to do that… Please show me the way."
A turtle suddenly came through the window. I stood up, "Donatello, are you ok?"
“Never felt better.” Donatello’s breathing slowly quieted as he lit a cigarette. “Just give me a few minutes more – and turn around. I want a back view this time.”
"Yeah. They ambushed me and threw me through the window."
Explain the sequence of events to him carefully, Donatello; we can’t all be as intelligent as you are.
Donatello pulled out his Bo
“Do you have an Arro I can use, man?”
The turtles would be back in an hour. I had some time to think. I chose to pray.
At least he understands the distinction between the two. There’s hope for you yet, Chuck.
"Dear Lord, I thank you so much for sending your Son, Jesus Christ, that I may have eternal life. But Lord, I really need your guidance right now. I really can not do anything on my own.”
“Please send a pretty female nurse to help me with bathroom functions.”
"I am afraid of Shredder using ninja mind tricks."
You might have confused him with Darth Vader there, a heinous insult to Vader. But to return to the story, Chuck, having proven himself to the turtles, sets out with them for The Foot’s footquarters in order to defeat the head foot, Shredder.
I had katanas strapped to my back with 'Chucks at my side and a pair of sais in front…. plus, assorted shuriken hidden from view, while carrying a bo.
What’s with all this weaponry if you’re a Christian, Chuckle? What are you hoping for, a deus ex machinegun?
Shredder became enraged. Just then a bright light lit the room. An Angel of the Lord appeared. "Oroku Saki.”
“Donald Duck to you,” Shredder said politely.
”Now is the time of Judgement! You must pay for your actions!"
Shredder swiped the apparition with his clawed hand and then vanished.
The store detectives were after him and they didn’t take kindly to any kind of swiping.
The Angel seemed to talk to talk to all of us at once.
Editing! Editing! I can understand fundamentalism – I used to subscribe to that myself – but why can’t you read over what you’ve just written?
"Do not forget what you saw. The Lord will not be mocked. Judgement comes for everyone. Love the Lord and do good or your fate will be Shredder's."
You’ll also become the leader of a gang named after a body part? A fate worse than death, I’m sure.
Everyone was quiet for a while, until Mikey spoke, "What happened?"
"The simple explanation is there is a God and He loves everyone."
The even simpler explanation is that Chuck wouldn’t have a clue if you put a candlestick in his hand and called him Colonel Mustard. Though what God’s supposed love for everyone has to do with Shredder’s mano a angelo fight to the vanish, I’m not sure; this fanfic was almost as bizarre as that of Cassandra Warrior Priestess. And I don’t think Harry Potter has too much to worry about from Galilee Gilchrist just yet.
Till next week, everyone!