"Jesus Must Be Spinning In His Grave!"

Why, oh god in heaven, why does anyone listen to anything Pat Robertson has to say? He blamed 9/11 on homosexuals and single mothers, called for the assassination of a foreign head of state (though in his defense, he later claimed he merely wanted him kidnapped and roughed up), and now says God gave Sharon a massive stroke because he gave disputed land to Palestinians. And we all know that Israel has to be kept together so that it can be wiped off the face of the earth when Jesus comes back. The Israelis must feel comforted to know that they have someone so concerned about them.

I really don't understand why someone who solicits little old ladies to sign over their Social Security checks over to him in return for a ticket to Heaven, who exploited the mineral resources of struggling African countries under the guise of "humanitarian relief" (thereby stoking the fires of civil war in those countries), who blamed Hurricane Katrina on Ellen Degeneres and who thinks that teletubbies are turning all our children gay is being given any credence, or even attention for that matter. I would have to believe that Britney Spears, and possibly even Bush would have more intelligent things to say on the subject of world events.

Pat and I go way back, of course (I'm still getting propoganda from the bastard). A few Christmases ago, our boy brought info for something called "Operation Blessing" home from school. The pamphlet requested that we fill a shoebox full of small toys, school supplies and hygene products such as toothbrushes and combs, and then give it to "Operation Blessing", who would then pass it on to African families in need. We had the shoebox all filled with beanie babies, pop rocks and floss, all ready to go, when we decided to do some research on "Operation Blessing". I can't remember specifically why, but the pamphlet seemed suspiciously vauge when it came to the details. Sure enough, we looked it up and after some googling and digging, we found out old Pat ran the thing. The shoebox is still in our closet...I'll be damned if Pat Robertson puts my pop rocks in his pie-hole...hmm, that sounded weird, but you get what I mean.

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