Sunday Sermon

Those men in black, men with religion, are frightening to those without. (The man pictured here is an actor portraying Thomas Cromwell, chancellor of King Henry the Eighth). I do not see very many men of religion around these days. On the street where I live, nobody but me goes to church, to services. Instead they sleep in, rise around ten, and perform chores for the Missus. For the welfare people in the welfare house down the street, Sunday is still a special day: they get up around noon. So where are all those dreadful Christians our atheist elites keep warning us about? The church I go to is one of two of my denomination in the City of Toronto. We are easily outnumbered by safe injection sites, designated prostitute walks, rainbow flag bath houses, and state funded gang banger transition centers. I see no Christian peril on those few hours of the day when it is safe to walk the streets. Instead I am left with the realization that the media is using the specter of Christianity to scare the faithless majority into paying taxes, indulgence in distracting pleasures of the flesh, and keeping off the streets just long enough to be safe, but not long enough to not go to work.

Those who use the fantasy Christian church as a tool of oppression have no problem with making up stories to scare the lost sheep into the tax payers corral. So what? They lie about most everything, you need only ask yourself this fall when you are shoveling snow. This will be the fourth hard winter, and still they wrap their forked tongues around Global Warming. It must be important to them. They either believe that their farts can make the snows stop, or they are making money from fart suppression research. This is like in the time of Thomas Cromwell: there were those men of religion who were appalled at the corruption of the state church, then universal. Small in number these reformers were, but fanatics. The greater number were profiteers. When the monasteries were broken up, the wealth found its way into their pockets and purses. History repeats itself, as always.

Thomas Cromwell here nearly lost his head because he did not foresee the uprising against his King called The Pilgrimage of Grace * . I read about it in a book when I was in university. My Marxist professors never talked about it; it did not fit the template of class struggle. They liked the idea of the destruction of the Christian church; so they ignored it. Sent it to the footnotes, like an aborted baby in the eighth month of gestation, to wiggle in the waste basket to die while the abortionist and his nurse goes out back to have a smoke and talk about vacations in Cuba. Cromwell, a little closer to the problem in time, misunderstood that everybody was as disgusted with Church corruption as his southern English Calvinists were. Alas, in the north of England the monasteries were doing the job they were supposed to: caring for the poor, helping in time of famine and plague, and providing spiritual nourishment. In the south the church was corrupt, as is well documented. Cromwell failed to discern the difference, much as my God hating Marxist teachers failed to teach anything that did not support their paper mache model of human society. A terrible huge rebellion rose up against Henry, which of course failed. Likewise a huge rebellion is brewing against the God hating marxists, whom in our time are called white marxist traitors.

Cromwell was a man of strong Christian belief. There are so few of them these days. The blazing fanatics in public life are haters of God. They live apart from the crime filled ferals that they have groomed to vote for them. They spend so much capital on propaganda to promote their cause. But like the hated Cromwell (who represents Civil Servants more aptly than Christian reformers) they do not see the hatred bubbling up around them. These social engineers see only what they want to see; you can tell by the mistakes they make, and you can take the pulse of the angry populace through observation and simple experiment.

The white Marxist traitors think Canada is a Christian country and despise it; they think the people will act like Christians, when they will not. The Pilgrimage of Grace failed because the rebels were, in their hearts, Christians; they had no stomach to rebel against their monarch. These people out there, they are no longer Christians, whereas the tax spending elites still think they are. The white Marxist traitors see themselves as religious reformers (like Cromwell), and do not see themselves as tax collectors (which Cromwell was also). They ignore the evidence that the non Christian people they have raised up care not about reform, but taxes. The modern Cromwell is as blind to this coming rebellion as the original Cromwell. But our modern rebels will not be Christians. Commandments will not stay their hand, concern for the afterlife will not hold them back, and moral code, they have none except that of do not get caught cheating on your Calculus test. You can read in your history books about tax revolts. The ones the Marxists like are in the front, with pictures; the ones the Marxists do not like are buried a little deeper. The uprising is inevitable; the time has passed for peaceful reform. Now we are in the time of activist versus activist, as Marxist fights Statist for state funds. The productive run to the black market, cutting the air hose of the taxation system. The welfare voters turn to crime, requiring greater efforts of the propaganda media to conceal them. The snow comes that the actors and artists and creative writers of science promised would not. There is no army of Christians lurking about to burn abortionists on the stake, or put the queers to the rack. Heck no. The activists are going to do that to themselves. The few Christians, they get to watch.

Go to your homes and pray that the God hating cannibals continue in their ignorance. They do not know what a real Christian looks like, and their taste in human flesh runs to roasted Marxist, freshly raped feminist, and fruit salad. This will be an awful thing to watch, this apocalypse.

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