Well, I found myself glued to The 700 Club again this morning while exercising at the gym. As I’ve said before—best show on television, bar none. Pat Robertson is an amazing host, everyone smiles and America is a blessed Christian nation with millions of happy, non-farting followers itching to send in just 69 cents per day to be a part of the Club (really! just 69 cents! really!).
As always, the best part of the show comes toward the end, when Pat and his happy-happy female co-host answer reader questions. Today, two stood out. First, a man asked how he can have the demons removed from his home, because he’s quite certain his wife and kids have become possessed. My answer, obviously, would have been something along the lines of, “Dude, are you fucking kidding me?” But Pat takes his show seriously, and he advised the poor sap to find an army of Christians to come in and pray.
The other question was even better. A woman says he son is on probation for something pretty bad, and the other day she found a loaded gun under his bed. She wants to tell the kid to leave their house, but he husband says if the son goes, he goes. In other words: So what if he’s on probation—with a gun? So what does Pat say? He makes the case that while the woman is probably right, the husband is the head of the home, so she needs to follow his lead.
Even the co-host—a former Ms. America, I believe—seemed shocked. But Pat, being Pat, stuck to his core beliefs: If there’s a gun in your house, listen to your husband.
Anyhow, I felt inspired to call the prayer line they always talk up. I wanted to see if the people dispensing advice follow their own values, or Pat’s (or if they’re the exact same thing)? So I told the woman I fear demons have taken over my house, and that my daughter is marrying a Jew and I’d like God to stop the wedding …
I also must say, this is not an anti-Christian screed. This is an anti-crazy religious freakoid 700 Club people screed. There is an enormous difference. Have faith. Pray. Believe. But when you send the goon squad the get the demons from under my bed, well, you’ve crossed a line of normalcy …
