Sunday, October 20, 2013

Sundays With S.Z.: The Clash of the Titans Edition

The following column was originally posted December 30, 2005, as part of s.z.'s "Ultimate Wingnut Challenge," but I'm only excerpting the parts about Pastor Swank and Dr. Professor Mike Adams, because who gives a fig about John "Hindrocket" Hinderaker or Ann Coulter anymore?

#2.  Pastor J. Grant Swank, Jr.


It's been a busy year for Pastor Swank, since he's written approximately 17,000 columns in the last 12 months.

While time and space (and the integrity of the time-space continuum) don't permit us to mention even a fraction of his greatest hits, here are a few of our favorites:

From Saturday, there's "I’M COMFORTED: MUSLIM SITES SEARCHED."
Islamic killers international setting up schemes in every corner of the planet. Islamic suicide enthusiasts wiping themselves out to have eternal orgies with playboy bunnies.
[...]
Now with all that going on would there be any reason for the US federal government searching Muslim areas for possible malcontents? I would think so.
Yeah, they were searching private property with radiation detectors (not Midge Decters) because they were looking for possible malcontents who like Playboy bunnies.  

(And while we prefer "Murderers Global" to "Islamic Killers International," the phrase does show the patented Swank touch.)

Here's a snippet from a column from a couple of weeks ago: "CHRISTMAS WITCH: THE DEVIL IN ‘SILENT NIGHT’." 
How low can one stoop? A school has boys and girls singing the revered Christmas hymn, "Silent Night," as a secular song in their holiday program this December.
This is blasphemy. This is absolutely intolerable. This politically correct to the devilish degree. This just can’t be tolerated. America, all America, regardless of faith, should rise up to declare the Ridgeway Elementary School deported to Castro’s Cuba. Or better yet, the heart of China
Yeah, send those elementary school kids to China -- that will teach them to be in an operetta that put different words to the music from "Silent Night"!

Embryonic stem cell research is the same as murder.  
There's no beating around the bush from Pastor Swank!  (We were going to follow that comment with a pun concerning the Pastor's tendency to arouse himself by writing about President Bush, but we realized that it would be wrong.) 

But here's one of his "Bush / freedom spread" columns: "RESEARCH: FREEDOM SPREAD GOING FORWARD."
But in other geographies, freedom spread is becoming a contagion. That is most encouraging to those who breathe liberty breezes daily. Therefore, all the more that the free countries support such efforts as those exhibited by the US President George W. Bush and colleagues. His administration has spent the first and second terms primarily seeking human liberties expanded.
Trust him.  Bush is all about human liberties expanded.

And there was the column about Hurricane Katrina: "NEW ORLEANS’ SIN BROUGHT DEVASTATION: ‘REPENT AMERICA.’"
"Southern Decadence" was set for New Orleans soon. It was to be a yearly hoopla celebrating practicing homosexuality as a legitimate, giddy lifestyle.
Thousands upon thousands were going to crawl all over New Orleans "to celebrate their sexuality," according to Methodist lay preacher Gary Hopkins of Ekklesia.co.uk.[...]
As far as Repent America is concerned, divine judgment has come upon a metropolis that was bent on making its environs open to hell’s demons. Therefore, God intervened. There will be no "Southern Decadence" skipping the light fantastic. Over and out. Done. Gone. Under water.
Pastor Swank believes in a vengeful God who will smite you silly if you look at Him wrong (or open your city to demons by letting homosexuals vacation there).

And you have to admire titles like:
But some people (such as Brad) prefer the "I Believe in Miracles" series.  Brad retells some of these faith-promoting tales in "Pastor Swank's Story Hour" and "Carolyn, No (Pastor Swank's Story Hour)." 

My favorite in the series (next to the great "I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES: FAITH SURVIVED," which features the demons crawling on the church walls and the parishioners who are mean to the Swanks and then die and/or have children who are unchurched) is probably "I Believe in Miracles: The Suitcase."  It's the one about how the Pastor thinks his son is going to kill him, and so the Pastor prepares a suitcase so he can skip town, leaving his wife behind to die.

But I want to mention a lesser-known column from the series, "I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES: THE SCAR," which is about how his hernia scar saved the Pastor from a child molester at Christian camp.
Each bunkhouse had its own counselor — a male, usually a young fellow or a preacher from one of the churches. It was a glorious way to spend a week each summer. I would not have missed it for the world.
My counselor each summer was always Paul.
[...]
One day he and I were walking by some of the pup tents that the older boys slept in. We stopped, walked into a pup tent and then sat down on one of the cots. He sided up close to me. Then I felt him touch me. He gently touched my lower stomach. And then there flashed across my thoughts an uncomfortable interlude.

There was a scar that I wore just beneath my middle. It was from a hernia operation I had had when 4 years old. I was not really embarrassed by that scar but on the other hand I didn’t know what to do with it. No one had really seen it except my parents and myself. It always tucked itself conveniently beneath my waistband, even when I wore swimming trunks.

Therefore, when Paul kept his hand near that part of my stomach, I thought of the hernia scar, well healed over, but nevertheless still there. And with that, I stood up and walked out of the pup tent.
[...]
In some strange way I actually believe that that small scar, well healed, was a kind of miracle stroke across my skin.
The other boys who lacked such miraculous scars might have other memories of Bible camp.

Anyway, if you like your wingnuts really nutty (and enjoy really creative uses of the English language), then Pastor Swank's your man!



#1.  Dr. Mike S. Adams, Ph.D.
Dr. Mike with LaShawn Barber

Dr. Mike has has a full year as well, since he's almost as prolific as Pastor Swank.  (Okay, Dr. Mike writes up to three columns a week, while Swank writes up to six a day, but Dr. Mike gets paid for his.)

Here are a few you might remember:

First, from February: "My new disability claim."
I, too, am now suffering from erectile dysfunction, or ED.

Worse than the discovery that I am now suffering from ED was the subsequent realization that I have been suffering from it for several years. Ever the empiricist, I decided to record the approximate dates of my previous, shall we say, difficulties in an effort to find the root causes of my medical condition. A brief summary follows:

In 2001, I was jogging on campus when I passed a group of feminists marching in the annual "Take back the night" event. After they marched by me shaking their fists and screaming, I first experienced ED. They certainly took back that night!

In 2002, I read the book "Intimate Reading" by a feminist professor in the English Department at UNC-Wilmington. After I read the section about her losing her virginity at age 16 (told in graphic detail), I again experienced ED.
In 2003 (February), when campus feminists marched around stage chanting "vagina, vagina" during the Vagina Monologues, I experienced ED again. Even worse, it happened to me on Valentine's Day (which, by the way, is not known as VD)!
Yeah, I think we've found the cause of Dr. Mike's sexual dysfunction: anything having to do with women and sex turns him off. 
Obviously, one does not have to be a college professor to see the common theme in all of these instances of ED. Put simply; they were all induced by feminist rage.
Oh, right, it's feminists that make him go limp, not vaginas.And speaking of feminists (which Dr. Mike always is), there's this piece from March 24, 2005 : "A letter before Dawn."  It's one of those columns where Dr. Mike answers one of his purported correspondents, this one being a female student who has written to tell him about a poster for "The Vagina Monologue" that she found offensive. 

Dr. Mike gives her some advice:
I want you and your friends to dress like the angry feminists you criticize.

Wear your oldest pair of blue jeans, preferably without washing them for at least one month. Then, put on a white "wife beater" tank top. Do not shave your arm pits for several weeks (this one is optional) and under no circumstances are any of you to wear a bra (not optional). Use black magic markers to put slogans like "F--- Bush" and "F--- men" on your tank tops. Then get some "Vagina friendly" buttons from the Women's Resource Center and place them on your outer garments. Wear no make-up except for thick mascara. Top it all off with a black leather-studded dog collar from the local pet store. Fit it tightly around your neck. Then, you should be ready to go.
Because that's what feminists look like in Dr. Mike's world.  They also have teeth "down there" which can bite off a man's hoo-hah dilly.

In April he tried to raise funds for Townhall by telling his readers that the evil feminists of Canada were mocking him and his Letter Before Dawn.
Hi there! It's Mike Adams - the guy you were just talking about in your Canadian feminist chat room. I thought we had the angriest feminists here in the States until I read the following, which was sent to me from within the ranks of my "supposed readership": 
"What can you do to fight such a thing? Townhall's Doctor Professor Mike Adams, PhD is an inveterate liar who has been accused of making up correspondence from his supposed readership to advance his patently women-hating views (...there is some scuttle-butt going around that he's in fact a self-hating homosexual who goes on 'hunting' trips with another suspected closet case and former-drug-dealer-turned-anti-feminist-mall-preacher/whacko Doug Giles)." 
Well, now that you are reading the full text of your remarks - remarks you never expected to see broadcast in an internationally-read column - you are becoming painfully aware of the fact that I am not guilty of "making up correspondence" from a fictitious readership. Since anti-male feminist whackos really exist, there's no need for fabrication.
As we noted at the time:
  • The evil Canadian feminists weren't gossiping about Dr. Mike in an evil feminist chat room, they were talking in the discussion forum of Rabble.caan online progressive magazine. 
  • The fact that people were mocking Mike online doesn't prove that he doesn't make up most of the letters he claims he's responding to in his columns. 
  • And instead of being shamed by reading the full text of his remarks in Dr. Mike's internationally-read column, the commenter at Rabble seemed as pleased as punch that Dr. Mike had learned what he thought of him.  So did the other Rabble folks -- and even Wonkette. 
But that seemed to put an end to the invitations from Doug Giles to go camping together  ... But the $10 Mike raised for Townhall made it all worthwhile.

In June, Dr. Mike used his column to diss one of his countless academic enemies: you can read about it here: "Sexperts, porn, and guns, oh my!"

But instead you might want to read TBogg's take on it, which includes this great bit:

Thin-skinned little dink, isn't he? 
Mike Adams, who has lots of guns (did he mention that he has lots of guns?...because he does have lots of guns) goes on another of his little warpaths (one in which he will use many of his guns of which he has lots) against another person who has slighted him (and his guns etc. etc.).
[...]
It seems that Rita isn't showing proper deference to Mr. [sic] Adams because Mr. [sic] Adams is actually Dr. Adams and he just sic of nobody noticing. And so each night he goes home to his wife, Krysten and she consoles him with:

"Dinner is ready, Dr. Adams!"
"Would you please take out the trash, Dr. Adams?"
"It happens to all guys, Dr. Adams."
"We'd have kids Dr. Adams if you weren't shooting blanks."

Which explains why he has all of those guns. Did he mention the guns
 
And that's why we love TBogg.

But back to Dr. Mike, for his paean to porn (well, to VBen's Shapiro's Porn Generation), "Generation P."
To those who read my column, it will come as no surprise that my favorite chapter in Porn Generation is the third chapter, entitled "Campus Carnality." As I read this chapter, I was reminded of an exercise I once used in my "Introduction to Criminal Justice" class. The exercise involved having students give a brief description of the most serious crime or deviant act they had ever committed. I would then read some of the accounts (which were all typed and turned in anonymously) and give the students some break downs afterwards-such as the percentage of felons in the class, and so on.

I noticed that in between the time I began using this exercise (in 1993) and the time I stopped (in 2003) there was a marked increase in reports of bizarre sexual conduct. For example, students began to write occasionally about group sex. Others wrote about posing nude for internet sites. One of my students even dropped out of school to become a Playboy Centerfold in 1996. Another wrote about how she ran out of money on Spring Break and slept with another college student for $40 just so she could have money to stay and get drunk on the last night of her vacation.
I guess Dr. Mike had to stop this exercise in 2003 because (a) it served no academic purpose except to provide Dr. Mike wanking material; (b) the university's administration wouldn't let him report the felons in his class to the feds like he wanted; and (c) the students began to claim that the worst thing they had ever done was to chant "vagina, vagina" at their sexually twisted criminology prof.

In October, Dr. Mike explained "Why I became a Republican."  (It's because the women are ugly on the Left, but the men are really good looking and gay, and apparently that posed too much of a temptation for the good doctor.)

Okay, time for one last story (and it's one of my favorites): Sugar Mountain.

It's the one about how Dr. Mike was a chaperone for a youth ski trip sponsored by his church.  The other chaperone was "a former hippie from the 1960's" (and a current liberal) who gave the black bus driver faulty directions, pocketed food from the group's breakfast buffet for his kids (even though he was wealthy), stole ski goggles, let his daughter smash croutons at Pizza Hut, and failed to appreciate that Dr. Mike is a genius.  The guy was stupid, arrogant, selfish, racist, sociopathic, and a leech -- all of which is all implied by the label "liberal."  However, Dr. Mike bested him at every turn with witty bon mots and better directions.  The story is totally true, and really happened.

Here's a good part:
And that was pretty much how the whole weekend went. The adult chaperones spend most of their time looking after the hippie-turned-chaperone to make sure that he didn't get anyone lost, fired, or thrown in jail for stealing food or ski equipment. I was so focused on controlling him that I just ignored his daughter when she started crushing hundreds of croutons with her fist at the Pizza Hut salad bar. 
When we got back from the trip, I was unsurprised to learn that the liberal chaperone once decided to have picnic with his family underneath a tree in a neighbor's front yard. Of course, he didn't ask his neighbor first. He just laid out a blanket and started playing his guitar and munching granola with his wife and four children. We must always remember that friends don't let friends drop acid - at least not every day for a whole decade. The effects tend to linger for years, sometimes even decades. 
Of course, I'm not suggesting that every liberal hippie from the 60s is a full-blown sociopath like my fellow chaperone. But the symptoms are always the same, aren't they? His condescension towards blacks, his unwavering arrogance in the wake of his own obvious stupidity, his looting and hoarding of limited resources, his lack of respect for the truth, his the lack of respect for the property of others, and, mostly, his refusal to grow up.
I repeat: the above story is totally true, and really happened. Dr. Mike doesn't make up stuff, as proven by the fact that Canadian feminists make fun of him.

So, if you like your wingnuts to be thin-skinned, misogynistic, homophobic, racist (see his recent column about the illegal alien Mexicans and their switchblades), petty, pompous, delusional, afraid of vaginas, and kinda stupid for someone possessing advanced degrees, then vote for Dr. Mike.

And those are our five finalists.  Vote for the one whom you think deserves the honor of being named our Ultimate Wingnut of 2005.

You have until midnight Saturday, the 31st, to submit your ballots.  And if you want to try to fix the vote by bribing winos to vote for the candidate of your choice, that's okay with me.

3:00:58 AM

6 comments:

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

I will take the DeLorean and the flux capacitor and vote for Dr. Mr. Mike.
~

Carl said...

I miss Swank before his aneurysm was diagnosed...

grouchomarxist said...

I'm still not convinced the Pastor isn't a cover identity for someone -- or something == who learned English from user guides for Taiwanese knock-off electronics.

For sheer originality of language as well as remarkable feats of confabulation, he would have had my vote sewed up. Herr Doktor Mike -- undeniably squalid little dingleberry on the ass end of the wingnut welfare gravy train that he is -- seems more your standard-issue moron.

Rugosa said...

It's actually not surprising that so many people with advanced degrees are in fact dumber than squat. (I've worked in academia.) The process of getting a PhD is to learn more and more about less and less; in other words, it's easy to develop a myopic world view about anything outside of your tiny frame. Mr. Dr. Mike is just an average douchebag with a bigger vocabulary than most.

Weird Dave said...

Haven't thought about Hindrocket since he stopped calling himself Hindrocket.

But I am still waiting for the replay of the Ann Coulter interview.

scripto said...

Therefore, God intervened. There will be no "Southern Decadence" skipping the light fantastic. Over and out. Done. Gone. Under water.
(St Swanks First Letter to the Crustaceans)

Laugh now, hippies. Future generations will be mining the Book of Swank for spiritual enlightenment.