pope

I was just about to write a blog post about something nice, but then I saw this pop up:

As is often the case with these religious things, I’m struggling a bit here.

Presumably, there are some bad things which happen which are sent to test us, and then there are other bad things which happen which are actually sent from the devil. It would seem that someone somewhere upstairs (no, not that high) in the Catholic church has decided that the sexual abuse scandals have now slipped into the latter category, and can be attributed directly to Beelzebub himself.

Sunshine? Moonlight? Good time? No, it woz Lucifer wot dun it.

This new-found allegation has two very convenient results: firstly, that the Catholic church wasn’t at fault here – it was, after all, entirely the work of Satan. And who (other perhaps than God’s representative incarnate on Earth) could have known that? Blameless, innit?

And secondly – like a microbiologist diagnosing an infection – now we know what is responsible, be can do something about sorting it out. The microbiologist would use an antibiotic, the Pope is going to use a daily prayer to St. Michael the Archangel. And that should clear up the discharge in just a couple of days.

So yeah – same same, when you think about it. Except that the infection doesn’t usually leave altar boys with PTSD.

I am, as ever, unimpressed.

No one particular subject has dominated my mind or time today, save for the post I was going to do about waking up with Madonna and Billy Joel. Not on the radio or on the TV – literally waking up with them. In my bed.
I have no idea what they were doing in there. Sleeping, I guess. My wife is going to kill me, she was only away for one night and I end up sleeping with a pair of veteran multi-Grammy Award winning artistes.
Again.

From the ridiculous to the sublime. My iPod has been churning out high quality choons all day. This is unusual. I have had a number of very disappointing days music-wise recently. But a combination of Depeche Mode, Fifth Amendment, Skunk Anansie and The Pigeon Detectives has redeemed Steve Jobs somewhat. I shall let him live a little longer.

And back to the ridiculous. The pope and his überdaft comments on condoms and HIV.
I’m not religious. I don’t mind people worshipping me, although it sometimes makes a simple trip down to Pick n Pay quite an ordeal. But I recognise people’s rights to believe what they want to. And the catholic church doesn’t like people using condoms. Fair enough. They can preach their silly message if they choose to do so. But to suggest that the use of condoms actually exacerbates the spread of HIV is completely unfounded and dangerous.

“While it is not up to us to pass judgment on Church doctrine, we consider that such comments are a threat to public health policies and the duty to protect human life.”
French foreign ministry spokesman Eric Chevallier

With great power comes great responsibility and the pope is a very powerful man. His comments are disgraceful and should be withdrawn before they do real harm.
Are catholics allowed to withdraw? Probably not.

Julius Malema isn’t on twitter. Gutted.

Natasha Richardson has died. spEak You’re bRanes is unimpressed with the outpouring of emotion.

The Employment Equity Act, 55 of 1998.

No person may unfairly discriminate, directly or indirectly, against an employee in any employment policy or practice, on one or more grounds including race, gender, pregnancy, marital status, family responsibility, ethnic or social origin, colour, sexual orientation, age, disability, religion, HIV status, conscience, belief, political opinion, culture, language, and birth.

“Birth”? Now they tell me.
I’ve been regularly discriminating against unborn people in my employment policies and practices since I came to South Africa. I have yet to employ either an embryo or a foetus and now I feel awful. And completely open to prosecution.
In my defence, the last time I interviewed a foetus (for a middle management position, as I recall), all I got in reply to some of my more probing questions was a slap from his mother.
Which was off-putting, to say the least.