Personality Cults and Wandering Bishops

 

Well, Toads and Toadettes,

It is summer half-spent and the your obedient servant as been away at his annual cult meeting-"The Bohemian Toad." Luminaries galore from all over come to the "special pond" in Full Monty Hall, California (not to be confused with some other cheap conspiratorial organization). Lots of towel snapping, sybaritic excess and nekkid dancing to be had, along with that world domination thing. Our motto, "Puking Plebians Come Not Here" adorns many a private steam room, let me tell you. Of course, not to be missed is the celebrated and solemn Lily Pad Ceremony around the fire-lit statue of Heqet the Frog Goddess, but that's just fraternal hi-jinks bunky and not a cult. It is a fraternity, dammit, and don't forget it. The Toad needs no cult, bunky, he is the cult and don't you forget it.

Ahhh, but cult, my brave toads and toadettes, is what waited in the post when yours truly staggered across the lintels of Toad Manor towel askew and ice bag crowning his regal head.  There, in magnificent detail and accompanied by suitably lurid illustrations, was the message that that an archbishop had been letting the little bishop under his purview out a bit too often.  And this was not just any run-of-the-mill archbishop.  This wanton wonder and icon for the iPhone camera franchise was the head of an entire jurisdiction...nay,

It seems that continuing clerical contumaciouseness had moved into outright flagitiousness, and the wandering wunderkind and object of adoration had had been, shall we say, a bishop rampant.  This peripatetic prelate had got up to behaviours that earned a public complaint from a lady he had visited "marital advice" upon.  Such was the nature of the counseling that, well, "things" had happened.  Rawk.  Hmmmm...

Well, after sussing to the full range of the roaming of the archbishop (both large and small), the lady had asked that the roistering fellow be stopped lest other women be preyed upon in whatever state the Persipicacious Prelate found them. (Here's a clue, boys and girls: vulnerable seems to be the modus operandi.)  Whether with wine and soothing verbiage or, heaven help the viewer, "selfies" of the greater and lesser bishop, this fellow got around.  The toad can only note that even with Borax for an eye wash the image might or might not be expunged. The visual is far greater than the Toad Grove Dance could even comprehend.  It must be a California thing. Rawwwwk!

So the response of the faithful?  The Toad has learned that it was to attack the woman who raised the alarum that a bishop might just be a' wandering. Here are some initial tasty bits included questioning of the lady's sanity by a purported "clergyman", calumny against her attorney (ok, Toad doesn't like bottom feeders) and vitriol heaped upon the notoriously anti-catholic kiwi-fellah who broke the whole thing.  In the coming days, tearful tones doted on the wonderous contributions of the august and pious prelate and what a shame it was to end his "career" prematurely.  That "J...s" guy? The "King"? The alleged reason for the whole "jurisdiction"?  Not mentioned anywhere. Nope.  No J-Man, only the P-Man. 

The Toad, home from that Bohemian outing, waited. Several Bishop's Cocktails and a few games of of whist with his old pal Squadron Leader Reg "Buff" Opington helped pass the time.  Left the drinks cart rather depleted though.

Then, abra, kababra and alakazam! The wandering bishops, great and small, resigned.  It was billed as a "sickness" thing, you know. Rawwwwk!  You bet sickness, toads and toadettes.  And just as suddenly, the iron curtain descended! No further encomiums, vigorous defenses, tearful recriminations or assaults on the victims.  No, nothing. Not a sausage.  Well, boys and girls, there apparently is a gag order from the prelate's grew, but the matter had already made the Toad gag enough. 

So. toads and toadettes, another one has feet of clay, and it ain't amongst the too familiar quarters of the "mainstream churches" or Joel "Make It Too Easy" Osteen and his empire. (Really, how much French procincial can you buy.) No, this is an upholder of the faith of "T. S. Eliot, C. S. Lewis, and Dorothy Sayers."  Somehow, and it's just a guess, these folks probably wouldn't be amused by these Anglican antics.

The Toad, now in a second pitcher of Blueberry Bishops, might say, "well, at least it was with women."  However, the Toad is far too cynical and not a member of any modern organised religion.  No, the Toad just looks and simply says to the defenders of the greater and lesser bishop involved, "Do a cult check, bunky." When you do religious stuff-you know, that "profess and call yourself Christian" thing, maybe that Jesus guy might be a wee bit better object of adoration.

Instead, here's a thing: The resigned clergyman's "dedication and devotion to the Church and to [St. Ignatz-on-the-Bay] and to each of us has driven him to extraordinary efforts and work levels. He has achieved impossible heights in the discharge of his four church offices. Four men could never have attained his success. But it has come at a terrible price upon his health, happiness and vitality." Ok, a charitable interpretation might allow that he certainly seems to have been as busy as four men.  Rawk, rawk, rawk.

How about this gusher sent by an alert reader from earlier in the year? "I have never seen a man stand up under such scathing and undeserved attack, but he did, by the grace of God alone.Thankworthy, St. Peter would have termed this suffering. I have a great bishop and friend at the head of this church, and I am comforted to say I would follow him the rest of my days."  Not Jesus, not G-d of the Hebrews, not even C. Estes Kefauver.  Nope, just follow that bishop, greater and lesser.  St. Pete would be really proud, yes indeedy.

Well, four men might have tried to tag all those bases, it's true, but vitality apparently wasn't lacking in the wandering bishop.  The only thing that this Toad can agree on, is that sickness was, indeed, correctly stated in his archnesses' resignation. Funny, though.  There has been that deafening silence in comments following an article in "Dr." Kiwi's (He is a D.D. you know!)  electronic muckraker announcing the resignation of the greater and lesser bishop.  No denials, no apologies, no repentance.  Nope, bunky.  Just the old cone of silence.

So, you have to ask yourselves, boys and girls, what do you do when you just might be in a cult? Do you go along come what may.  Perhaps a question or two might be in order.  Are the finances a bit unusual, and you say that sort of thing "just happens"?  Is there irregularity of life like multiple marriages or a "non-traditional relationship", and you say "he's a great man and deserves to be happy"? Are they hiding child molestation?  Is your prepate poly-amorous? (You look it up , bunky.  You have a computer our you wouldn't be reading this.) Are your greater and/or lesser bishops molesting the flock? Do your folks wink at whatever wanton behaviours might be on because "His grace is such a great man and really photogenic"?  Get a clue, bunky. You just might be in a cult-a Church of Personality.  Rawwwwwwk!
 
With apologies, or maybe not, to Loving Colour, it's time for a song to lighten the mood:

(And during the few moments that we have left
We want to talk right down to earth in a language
That everybody here can easily understand)


Look in my eyes, what do you see?
The Church of Personality
I know your anger
I know your dreams
I've been everything you want to be
I'm the Curch of Personality
Like Jimmy P or Kennedy
I'm the Cult of Personality
The Church of Personality
The Cult of Personality


With candle lights, let smoke arise
When a prelate speaks, on the lips are lies
You will have to follow me
Only I won't set you free


I tell you things you need to be
I'm the smiling face, you're on your knees
I'm the Church of Personality
I exploit you
Still you love me
I tell you one and one makes three
Forget to mention the Trinity
I'm the Church of Personality


Like Jimmy Pike or Jackie Spong
Never mind, the right or wrong
I'm the Church lt of Personality
The Cult of Personality
The Church of Personality
No more hat, that prelate's fried
But ah those priests, they weep and cry
You won't have to follow me
My cellphone pics, have set you free


You gave me fortune
You gave me fame
You gave me power in your God's name
I'm every bishop, you need me to be
I'm the cult of personality!

I'm the Cult of
I'm the Cult of
I'm the Cult of
I'm the Cult of
I'm the Cult of
I'm the Cult of
I'm the Cult of
I'm the Cult of Personality!

That about sums it up. At least it has brought us to our favourite time of day.  Cocktail Hour,boys and girls, and time time for a good stiff, drink.Our general theme today is:

 
Of course, there are many variants and always in appropriate liturgical colours. Beware, though.  Several of these and little bishops tend to go astray!  Sufficiantly large quantities cause cultist behaviours!  Spectacular amounts induce feelings of invincibility and the need to form one's own "jurisdiction"! Rawk, rawk, rawk!

The Bishop's Cocktail-For Those "Ordinary Times"
Serves 1.
Ingredients

• 2 ounces gin
• 2 ounces Stone's ginger wine
• 2 or 3 ice cubes

The Blueberry Bishop-When You are Blue Over Being Caught Out          

Makes 6 cups

Ingredients

• 4 cups blueberries, picked over and chilled
• 1 cup ice water
• 1 cup crushed ice
• 3 cups chilled Gewürztraminer or Rhine wine
• 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, or to taste
• 1/3 cup superfine granulated sugar, or to taste

 

The Red Bishop-When You're Feeling Laike a Martyr

Ingredients

• 3 oz rum
• 1 oz red wine
• 1 tsp simple syrup
• Juice of 1/2 a lime

Yield: 1 Drink

1. Pour the ingredients into a cocktail shaker filled with ice.
2. Shake well.
3. Strain into a chilled red wine glass.

Classic Punch Version Especially for Affirming Catholics-Rawwwwk!

• 1 bottle red wine
• 3 oz rum
• Juice of 1/2 lemon
• 4 barspoons superfine sugar
• various seasonal fruits for garnish

1. Mix all ingredients in a pitcher by stirring thoroughly.
2. Add ice (pour into a punch bowl if desired).
3. Add a variety of fruits as garnishes.

Of course, toads and toadettes, you can avoid all of that mixing and time consuming messing about with a variety of fruits (ecclesiastical or no) by going the traditional path.

 

Eight or nine pints of the old Bishop's Finger your clergyman will go international and get Russian arms and Roman hands! 

Until next time, remember, bunky, the Toad is the Cult of Personality in this jurisdiction. Raaawwwwk!

Yr. Obed. Serv.,


Roy A. Toad, DD, DMon., D.Phil. (Oxen), LSMFT