The lilrabbi is confused. He has not penetrated, achieved understanding, or been able to wrap his mind around one of my blog posts. Now aint that something? and it appears the point of difficulty was the expression of David Bowie staring from the screen with all the intensity and shenanigans of the age of glam rock. I thought it made perfect sense, so let me try to shoot a few rays of understanding into this.

Lets get one thing crystal clear: I will never sacrifice wit to clarity. Never. When it comes to an alternative between making a joke and saying something important, I will always say of the latter along with the excellent Sir John Suckling, “the devil take her” whether or not you understand me, and that’s final.

And, speaking of the devil, one thing we have to make clear in this is that the point is about fundamentalism. Fundamentalism has developed threee internet stooges and they seem to be going in frenetic high gear—especially the first two: Mou Lartuneac, Flash Gordon—from North Dakota, no less—and our own beloved (and I like him, honest, and let me be clear about one thing: I would never say of him that he’s going around in high gear, never) Jonald CS Donson.*

What has happened? Well, it has become apparent to these threee that something aint right and their randomly chosen target is now the Young and the Restless: fundamentalists with as much right to the name as they . . . or anybody who wants to scrutinize association out of all proportion and make the practices of fundamentalist separation the test of fellowship or play along. I dare you to find anything in print that shows that fundamentalist notions of separation are not like the Australian boomerang which comes back to bite its thrower in the butt—as the saying goes.

And if you do, I won’t believe you anyway.

Now it aint my aim to gun down fundamentalist practices of separation: these can fall of their own accord without any intervention of mine or of Ben Wright’s, though he’s welcome to vent his personal ax.** No, the enemy of fundamentalism aint me, the enemy of separation as known and practiced in those circles where so many of us grew up is being able to think your way out of a wet paper bag, because the day you start doing that, rather than exerting blind loyalty to the Lord’s anointed boys, to their ways, their realms, the peculiarities of their imaginations, on that day fundamentalist practices begin to look like the practices of a squirrel whose behavior leads you to suspect it may possibly be deranged.

And this is the problem. Well . . . the problem is not that people think in-and-of-itself, you see. No, because thought is not more powerful than sentiment whatever our domed brethren may think. But thought can and does serve to order sentiment and it is useful—awfully so—in bringing about a change of heart one way or another.

Hearts and minds are sometimes hard to get a hold of, especially if you use the blunt methods used in some circles.

Now I would not put things the way Ben has put them, being of course far more intelligent than he, not to mention precise. He said something about the sound of things imploding: I’d say its the sound of the toilet flushing because I think the connotations are more accurate.

Actually, I wouldn’t even say that. I’d say Nothing Ever Changes, but lets go with the sound of the toilet since the sound carries more meaning than the dull roar of everything always. So can you picture in your mind’s eye that sound? (If you aint got the skill for that, you probably ought to be reading a less intellectual blog than this one.) Now that you got that sound pictured in your mind’s eye all clear, ask yourself: What does it mean?

Obviously it means that the Young and the Restless are undermining the solid foundations of fundamentalism as has been amply shown repeatedly in post and commentary on the blogs of the first two stooges, aided and abetted by the third (now who’s your favorite stooge from the original slapstick original that gave birth to my allusion? The first person to have the same favorite stooge as me will receive free of cost a complete set of the collected works of Charles Grandison Finney bound in cat skin and with the word “Calvin” and any of its derivatives printed in a hideous shade of yellow). Yes, the young and the restless are doing nothing of short of making a subtle case for fundamentalists associating with persons who clearly are not fundamentalists. And they’re calling into question solid fundamentalists, launching personal, vitriolic, unimaginably uncharitable and clearly blown out of proportion (for an example of how they should proceed, read fundamentalist statements on compromising, communist, Bible-denying, non-KJV neo-evangelical intellectuals) attacks on the unimpeachable history and tradition of fundamentalism, and betraying the ethos and spirit that for so long has reigned serene, dominant and unassailable. And the question is, why?

Why can’t these young and restless chaps invite authors like Lartuneac to speak instead? Ask yourself that in all honesty: book in its second edition, solid fan base, and, as the globe orbiting on his blog clearly shows, an international phenomenon. Why are they enamored of John Piper and his books instead? They don’t have a leg to stand on.

At which point, in the logical sequence I am here developing, comes the glam. Yes, the glam. Hence the David Bowie, you see. Do you see it?

Maybe not. “Space Oddity” is a subtle work of art and things aint entirely obvious. What is it about? A guy staring at a camera and being weird, or at least trying.

What is the message? The chaps in the control room are sending the poor spaceman out to space permanently and deliberately. Why? They’re clearly deranged. They’re like the guys in a cartoon who sit on a limb sawing it off . . . well, in a manner of speaking, because it really doesn’t matter what end of the stick they’re sawing, it aint attached to no tree. I mean, that’s not obviously part of the song, but they did have cartoons back in the 80’s so you can see the connections. Its like the camel in the tent: the tent has to be collapsed to prevent it getting in.

Space control to Major Tom . . .
Space control to Major Tom . . .***

Maybe if you let your mind wander around the annals of the Chronicles of Fundamentarlia (which clearly have a space theme) you’ll arrive by a flash of intuition at the connections. At least, try listening to the song in the background while you read one of Flash Gordon’s postings with the sad, resigned, weary tone of glee, the lucid and irrefutable argumentations, the apt and incriminating quotations, the unimpeachable hermeneutics and historiography, the patterns of sanity and sober consideration and then see if any parallels clearly emerge; you’d have to be an idiot to miss it, I think).

I can’t make it any clearer.

Ok: here’s the bottom line. Next come the footnotes.
*The scholars in our mists might be all wondering to what to attribute the spoonerisms. Well, that’s a mighty fine question. Obviously it aint in an effort to conceal the identities of the parties involved, as I’ve just given away the crucial fact that there’s some spoonerisms alleged. But one of them aint! And you got no idea who if I don’t tell you, which effectively protects the identities of all three. Which, after all, it’s my sworn duty and obligation as a bona fide journalist.

Ben: I say it with a grin. Fundamentalists: and I mean that. Men: have you explored the potential expose?

The Chronicles at this point are a bit overcrowded, but I have been toying with the idea of killing more of the characters off and introducing Major Tom . . . perhaps Kameldeergard can bump into him at some point, and they can hatch a fiendish plot. Major Lartuneac too . . . but that might be confusing.