J. Daniel Bateman, QC
Private Secretary & Legislative Liaison
By Appointment to HRH the Duke of Lancaster
Royal Crescent
Bath BA1
United Kingdom
22nd November 2011
The Timothy R. Tebow Fan Club and Ministry
Post Office Box 00666
Denver, Colorado 80204
United States
Dear Mouth-breathers,
Over the last several weeks I have been greatly entertained by your sissy version of rugby and most especially the fawning admiration by certain stereotypes of people for the hulking brute Tim Tebow (Thiébaut, surely? It’s understandable that the unwashed masses disembarking at Ellis Island might struggle to spell their surnames, but is it too much to expect that the immigration agents attain at least a passable imitation of culture?)
It occurred to me today as I was driving along in the Aston, taking one of my many, many sexual partners for a crisp, lovely fall tour of the Lake District before tea at L’Enclume, that Tim Tebow may indeed be the Christ Child. Tebow’s unique talent is not that he throws knuckleballs into the dirt (because I can do that), or that he’s a real handful whilst running downhill in the open field (because many other fullbacks are as well), or that he is a great Leader of Men (because so is Ray Lewis, and Ray Lewis killed somebody). Rather, it is that through sheer force of personality he has married three separate mass delusions into a Trinity of unique power, one from which my colleagues and I in the stratospheric ranks intend to profit for many years to come.
Mass Delusion Number One: Football, the Great Sunday Distraction
Every kleptocracy worthy of the name needs to provide its citizens subjects something equivalent to the old Roman panem et circenses (bread and circuses; do yourself a favor and go read a book for fuck’s sake) to distract them from the important business of rampant corporatist thievery. All we had to do was provide ourselves with a favorable antitrust regulatory environment and subsidies for new public sporting palaces (as if you serfs didn’t have more pressing public policies to fund from your dwindling public treasuries!) and everything fell right into place. Every year, at the height of what would otherwise be the season for political organization, mobilization, and action, you spend ever-increasing amounts of your time and money watching half-literate gladiators beat each other to slow but hastened deaths, as if it’s relevant to anything! A soap opera for the proletariat replete with light beer and charred animal remains to keep you fat, happy, and stupid. The meaningless regional antipathies between lower-class hordes is particularly useful, divide et impera worthy of Caesar himself, you hapless barbarians.
Mass Delusion Number Two: Christianity
I never tire of the irony that an obscure stone-age slave superstition (which is easily demonstrated as a blatant plagiarism of the cult of Mithras) is still so usefully employed as a way to control the feeble-minded. Stealing wealth and opportunity from entire generations of the low-bred is not concealed easily even in the best of times; however, America’s inherent vulgarity has given us the greatest gift of all: the gospel of wealth. The notion that riches are a virtue to which plebeians can and should aspire is a mind control weapon of unmatched brilliance. See the secularist over there who wants to tax rich people to fund social insurance and infrastructure? He doesn’t share your val-yoos, and may be a secret Muslim. Call your congressperson to tell him/her you oppose that bill that would make you and your grandchildren better off, you sheeple.
Mass Delusion Number Three: A Leader With Whom You’d Like to Have a Beer
This is perhaps the greatest conceit in the American Colonies today. The complexity of running a kapitalist dictatorship with a convincing faux democratic shell, the game beyond the game, is so overwhelming to the mediocre supermajority that the idea of a leader who’s like you in some meaningful way becomes a powerful intoxicant. Because if that guy who doesn’t seem like an elitist can run things, so could you! It is a mirage, of course. You have nothing at all in common with George W. Bush, the Great Alaskan Snowbilly Grifter, or Tim Tebow. Your interests are diametrically opposed, but some perfunctory public displays of Jesus-y devotion can forgive all that. You jackasses.
I don’t want to see Tim Tebow succeed in the NFL, but only so that his inevitable career in politics begins all the more quickly. We’ll co-opt Tebow one way or another but it’ll be cheaper to get him while he’s young and idealistic.
I am the 99.9th percentile, you fucking troglodytes. May you all die from chronic traumatic encephalopathy.
Yours in Christ™,
Dan Bateman xoxo
(Cross-posted at http://www.dailydickpunch.com)
You must be logged in to post a comment.
BY: kwtree
IN: Monday Open Thread
BY: Conserv. Head Banger
IN: Monday Open Thread
BY: Conserv. Head Banger
IN: Thanksgiving Weekend Open Thread
BY: Sunmusing
IN: Lauren Boebert Picks Up George Santos’ Favorite Side Hustle
BY: JohnNorthofDenver
IN: Monday Open Thread
BY: JohnInDenver
IN: It’s Always Weird When Election Deniers Win The Election
BY: Conserv. Head Banger
IN: Thanksgiving Weekend Open Thread
BY: doremi
IN: It’s Always Weird When Election Deniers Win The Election
BY: kwtree
IN: Monday Open Thread
BY: Ben Folds5
IN: Monday Open Thread
Subscribe to our monthly newsletter to stay in the loop with regular updates!
You really hate people of faith, don’t you?
LOLOLOL….
This is rich.
please remove this diary. All Tebow runs for is 6 points. It has absolutely nothing to do with politics. All it does is ridicule someone who was successfully indoctrinated by his parents to believe in some silly stuff. The diary is not worthy of being here or anywhere else
If Pols removes this then they should remove Jo’s diary and Bateman’s diary as well – not to mention most of what David posts.
And not sure what you’re saying with the ‘silly stuff’ comment, but it wasn’t worthy of being here or anywhere else.
fuck off you limey bastard.
And take your bloody royals with you.
We kicked your ass in the 18th c., when your ass was supposedly unkickable.
Then you were cheeky enough and stupid enough to pick another fight while also trying to spank Napolean. 1812 – it’s ok to lose the war when you win the peace.
Queen V. dabbled with being friend to the confederacy. We kicked her arse too.
Then – not once, but twice in the 20th c., we saved your royal heinies.
Wie wГјrden sie gerne deutsch sprechen, arschloch?
So you blokes play rugby with no pads. Explains quite a lot. But no tennis, eh?
Sod off, wanker.