During Monday’s Coronavirus briefing with the press, Trump turned the microphone over to MyPillow CEO Mike Lindell—the dude that makes the mostly-comfortable foam-based head-rester—who, after giving self-aggrandizing news regarding their mask-making capabilities, proceeded to, “off the cuff”, tell the American public to read their Bibles.
The Christian one.
To be fair, Lindell actually said that on Nov. 8, 2016, God gave America—a nation that has turned their back to Him, mind you—a second chance at glory with the election of the Godhead Trump and that, perhaps, this will get prayer back in schools, if schools even exist anymore. And then to read their Bibles.
Still the Christian one.
You know, in many forms of post-apocalyptic media, there’s always a self-righteous sect of spiritual sycophants eager to bring forth a terrible Armageddon, believing their defeat over Lucifer and his demonic dum-dums will usher in a return to a 1950s-era (read: Caucasian) of American values they seem to constantly masturbate over.
So, really, when you think about it, we’re right on speculative time for all this…thank God I still have a stack of Petra records and a few Jack Chick tracts lying around. They get read!
Before you start taking your wholly holy anger out on me—I can see it ramping up—I will admit, I’m a tenuous believer, possibly the only one around here. Sure, I left my area church of five years sometime back after finding out they were a dangerous—to me, at least—fundamentalist cult, but I’ve never ever lost my faith in God, even if I really should have by now.
Praying is a beautiful thing, one that can help give us strength through times of strife, static or, you know, global pandemics. But it seems that Trump and his devilish disciples are—especially down here in Oklahoma, where Governor Stitt recently held a government-sponsored televised worship service—using people’s untested faith to push a morally dangerous and typically unbiblical agenda that will hurt those they consider to be the unchosen.
But, I guess to get to the End Times, what are a few million dead immigrants or gays or atheists or…
How about, instead of believing that God is some bearded wizard in the sky that grants you (or doesn’t, if you’re bad) wishes—as many Christians do these days—having faith in a God, whatever that may be, who judiciously blesses different people with a keen aptitude for science and that talent will develop a cure for Covid-19?
Sure, they may be an immigrant or gay or atheist, but, to paraphrase the modern Christ-like figure of Bono, God moves in mysterious ways. He’s God—he doesn’t have to answer to you or me or, especially, Trump.
But, more than likely, as the Four Horsemen gallop across the Earth, I’ll just be labeled another false prophet, a damnable heretic and a charlatan apostle that, really, should be burned alive by the brain-boiling fever of this fucking flu. So it is written and so it shall be done.