Nutwatch – by Queen of Swords

Hi everyone, and welcome to another Nutwatch. Make yourself comfortable on the couch and brace for impact, because though fundamentalism has produced some neurotic nuts, I’ve never come across one quite like this before. This website features an obsession with sex, an equally burning fixation on religion and so much self-loathing that anything I have to say seems redundant. Let’s boldly go where even Freud would fear to tread, because this Nutwatch takes on

Internet Evangelism & Teaching

Don’t be fooled by the dry name. The title page features more rainbows than a gay pride parade, and most of the hundreds of pages are in pretty pastels. That’s right, hundreds. The author, Grantley Morris, makes up in quantity what he lacks in quality, and his biography is pretty revealing.

…the more you know me, the more disappointed you are likely to be. Just as any of us look physically repulsive without our skin, so I look repulsive without Christ.

I’m afraid he comes across as repulsive whether with or without Christ. Something about the intense self-denigration, or could it be his inability to support or take care of himself?

Almost five decades later I’m still in the same side of the same city and I’m still with my mother, who waits on me hand and foot.

He stresses several times that he has never married and never had sex, and I can see why. Someone tell Mr Hitchcock that Psycho is now non-fiction. Naturally, Mr Morris is as qualified as the Pope to advise married people on their sex lives, and he proceeds to do so in great detail.

When Marital Relations are a Shortcut to Hell

When God gave marrieds the gift of sex, he was not handing them a toy. He was entrusting them with nitroglycerin that even within marriage must be handled with holy fear.

Since this nitroglycerin was so dangerous, God gave it to everyone on earth and ensured that a desire to use the nitroglycerin would kick in long before people were permitted to legally handle it. You rock, God! But this terror of sex means that Mr Morris doesn’t want anyone (except himself) even thinking about it unless they’re married. The wedding ring is more powerful than Sauron’s One Ring that way – it magically disarms the nuclear warhead that is sex. Needless to say, people who enjoy sex outside of marriage are anathema in Morrisworld, but far more perverted and depraved are the lost souls who engage in

Sexual Self-Stimulation

I’ve read a lot of anti-masturbation screeds before, but no one has ever written so much on the topic as Mr Morris. Or so hysterically. He’s not alone, though; apparently he has a flock of female fans, and they exchange sexual fantasies while beating themselves up for doing so.

Instead of fantasizing about a normal man, she aroused herself while visualizing Christ, thus developing sexual cravings for the Son of God and even fantasizing about having sex with him.

Anyone who’s gone through the Book of Revelations must have read about the Bride of Christ. Well, this is the Girlfriend of Christ. I hope Mr Morris didn’t get too jealous while hearing about her Christurbation.

Another woman, a committed Christian, told of sexual visions of “Jesus.”… In an e-mail yet another woman wrote of demonic attacks she has suffered:

It has paralyzed me, nearly suffocated me, and, worse, has raped me.

Oh dear, I just hope she didn’t get pregnant with the antichrist. Single women impregnated by demons probably don’t qualify for Welfare; maybe they get Hellfare instead. What’s ironic, though, is that even if this unfortunate woman was telling the truth (which opens up a whole ‘nother can of worms), I’d still be far better off as an atheist, considering that I’ve never so much as seen a demon, let alone been sexually assaulted by one. But let’s cut through the ramblings and get to the meat of the matter, the dangers of


I wonder how many marriages are haunted by the ghost of solo-sex. How many people are forced to compete in bed with the elusive highs of their partners’ previous love affair with a vibrator?

I think that in Mr Morris’s fevered imagination, vibrators stand six feet tall, are darkly handsome, have strong arms to open pickle jars and never forget a woman’s birthday. Seriously, feeling inferior to a vibrator is just pathetic, though in his case it’s entirely realistic. I’d much rather have a vibrator than a man who expects his mother to wait on him “hand and foot”, believes he’s repulsive and is terrified of touching himself. You rock, vibrator! I wuv you. And I shall only cheat on you with Mr. Detachable Shower Head.

The tragedy is that if you have masturbated, you have not just had previous sexual experience, you have been sexually spoilt.

Because “you” are as fragile as some people’s grip on reality, such than one below-the-waist touch will ruin “you” forever. I can’t think of anything more unhealthy than this view of sex as a dirty, dangerous thing which can only be cleansed and neutralized by marriage.

Even if you think of yourself as a virgin when you marry, the fact remains that if you have masturbated, your marriage partner will not be the only person with whom you have experienced sexual pleasure.

The same goes for people who are divorced or widowed. Perhaps Internet Evangelism & Teaching would like to promote the Hindu suttee, so that such spoiled, soiled specimens can be properly disposed of?

You will never be able to change this sad fact. The most you could do is decide to never again masturbate.

Misery loves company (but in a platonic hands-off way).

Singles who see no hope of ever marrying might ask, why would God give me the ability to enjoy sexual pleasure just to leave it lying dormant?

God’s strange that way. After all, he gave every fundamentalist a brain.

…we can bless God by giving him all our potential for sexual pleasure. And since the Lord daily gives us our potential for sexual pleasure, singles have the privilege of daily giving him this precious offering…

Is it really such a “precious offering” if no one else wants it? That makes me imagine the author crooning “My preciousssss” over his virginity.

He will be so thrilled with our faithfulness that our reward will be astounding.

God : Here you go, one vibrator! Batteries not included.

Or consider someone who regularly masturbates in front of a mirror. Could this habit have the potential to make same sex genitals such a turn on that homosexuality becomes a temptation?

Actually, this would act as Pavlovian conditioning, such that you could only become aroused by your reflection or your identical twin. Or by mirrors in general. Driving a car could prove hazardous.

Since Scripture is emphatic that the most casual of sexual encounters makes you one with a person, and it is degrading to become sexually one with an animal, just how dehumanizing is it to have sex with a machine, or with an object?

I hope this guy never watches A. I.. Or even Star Trek for that matter. I also wonder if he thinks people are “dehumanized” if they have pacemakers. I mean, those are inside you 24/7, and you might find it difficult to have sex without them.

If it is an abomination to relate sexually with an animal, what about with an animal’s skin or fur or wool? If it is perverted and degrading to have sex with a beast, what about sex with a plant, or a plant product, such as a cotton sheet?

No, no. The sheet with the eyeholes cut out goes over your head, not over your crotch.

We rightly view child sexual abuse as an horrific crime. What if solo-sex makes you the child of God who is abused, and in this crime you are not only the victim but the offender?

And whenever someone masturbates, Mr Morris and the Holy Spirit are screaming, “No, don’t! Please!” Having sex when someone is pleading with you to stop is nonconsensual. Therefore, masturbation = rape!

And doesn’t the bible say that when we sin, we are dead? So whenever someone masturbates, they are having sex with a dead person. Therefore, masturbation = necrophilia!

Man, this is fun. I could go on and on.

Much of the above amazes me. It reads as if written by someone desperate to attack masturbation and yet I am quite unconscious of any such axe to grind.

It reads as if written by someone desperate, all right. I imagined the author gasping and panting his way through the rhetorical questions; masturbation is to him what homosexuality is to Fred Phelps – a raison d’etre, the Joker to his Batman. Since denial of his obsession might not be convincing enough, he bends over backwards to assure married women that they can enjoy sex (with their husbands), in the article titled

How Holy Wives Express Marital Love

L – Laundry!
O – Ovulation!
V – Vacuuming!
I – Ironing!
N – Nappies!
G – Groceries!

A friend of mine saw in her mind’s eye an unclothed baby girl lying on her back. Next to her was a beautiful pink rosebud. God tenderly kissed the baby. My friend felt God was saying by this symbolism that a particular woman’s genitals were as beautiful and perfect as a rosebud.

I don’t quite know where to start with this one. Firstly, if women’s genitals are so beautiful and perfect, why didn’t the friend envision a woman? The message seems to be that adult sexual organs are OK, as long as you don’t imagine or see or (perish the thought) touch them.

And secondly, I wonder where exactly God kissed the baby. If it was an avuncular peck on the cheek, why would the take-home message from that be “genitals are good”? Too bad He didn’t kiss the rosebud instead, but I think even imaginations this fertile quail at what that would symbolize. Genitals are great, but they’re not that great.

It is sadly common for women to feel uncomfortable about their genitals, especially because adult genitals are naturally not as tight and neat as a baby’s.

This is… disturbing, to say the least. Hopefully the author’s many neuroses prevent him from coming into contact with any babies. No, scratch that – anyone at all. I feel sorry for the author, since it’s evident from his reams and reams of writing that he’s desperately lonely, but I don’t think that anyone’s safe near him.

I still ached to be hugged but although this was most unpleasant, the unexpected consequences of losing much of my sexual response made me too wary to risk praying for the removal of my need for touch. As it happened, the craving to be hugged gradually fell away anyhow.

Aw. I guess the mother who waits on him hand and foot isn’t willing to hug him. Sensible woman; she probably slides his meals into his room through a flap in the door. After the interminable sections on sex and its evil solo counterpart, the theological sections of this website are something of a relief, though of course the author’s take on these is as twisted as you might imagine. Here’s a sample.

Is My Baby in Heaven?

…there is something spiritually special about children who have at least one parent who is in union with Christ… Nevertheless, from what we saw earlier, there is still hope for the offspring of non-Christians.

How generous. Perhaps they’ll be permitted into heaven but told to drink at separate water fountains.

Being born into a people group that does not have the gospel is a key factor in people not hearing the gospel.

You’d think that an omnipotent god who wanted to save people from the fires of his own eternal wrath would make sure that every “people group” had the gospel, wouldn’t you?

It is inevitable that children suffer for the sins of their parents…We are tempted to think it unfair that children should suffer because of their parents’ sins, but consider the alternative: had their ancestors been prevented from having children, these people would not merely have not suffered, they would not even exist.

So it’s better for someone to burn in hell forever than not to exist? By this logic, abortion is by far a better thing than birth control, since at least the former gives children a chance to exist. Heck, it does even more than that – it sends them straight to heaven, and another of Mr Morris’s lady friends has a vision of what life is like for them there.

She found that angels were charged with looking after heaven’s children but they lost all control whenever Jesus arrived. The children would go wild with delight, playing with him and enjoying his presence.

I’m not sure how millions of children could play with one man, and the “wild with delight” part makes me think of groupies at a Guns N Roses concert. Maybe the children all throw their haloes at Jesus, and the one who accurately pegs Him gets to keep Him. And play with Him. Forever.

If a street kid married a millionaire, she would get his riches and he would get her debts.

I take it the millionaire won the lottery, since he seems too halfwitted to have earned fifty cents.

Similarly… we hand our depravity to Jesus, relinquishing even our fondest sin. It becomes his. That’s what killed him.

In other words, Jesus was so depraved that God killed him. Well, that’s a new one on me. Too bad He didn’t have someone who was willing to die for His sins; even godhood has its downfalls.

There’s plenty more of this claptrap – a claim that reading romances will turn straight women into lesbians is my favorite – and the entire website is a testimony to what one man can achieve with no job, no friends, no girlfriend, a personal servant (mom) and every neurosis in the DSM-IV. In summary, Internet Evangelism & Teaching is so sad that I can’t even be offended by it, and as for the author, you know the surgical collars that are put on dogs to prevent them biting their stitches? I imagine him having something similar, except that his fits around his waist and prevents him from touching himself. Or sleeping, which explains all the hundreds of pages in this website.

Till next time, everyone!

Queen of Swords

Plognark’s Cartoon Corner!


Nutwatch – by Queen of Swords

Hello again, everyone, and top of the muffin to ya! Today’s subject is named after what the cows leave behind in the fields, probably since that’s how the author sees herself and all women. It’s like an acid trip to the past, except that I’m not sure there was any time in recorded history when women were portrayed as quite so weak, passive and ridiculous, so it’s more like a close encounter of the Stepford kind. Get ready for the androids in aprons, because this month’s Nutwatch takes on

The Prairie Muffin Manifesto

Shouldn’t that be “The Prairie Muffinesto”? Anyway, read on; Naked Chained Slave-Girls of Gor has nothing on this.

Note: It was decided in a hotly-contested election, that the husbands of Prairie Muffins would henceforth be known as “Prairie Dawgs.”

Oh, I can imagine how hotly contested that was.

Prairie Muffin #1 : I call my husband “Master” at all times.
Prairie Muffin #2 : Really? That just doesn’t sound respectful enough, if you don’t mind my saying so. I call my husband Dominus et Paterfamilias et Spiritus Sancti. Now that’s submissive!
Prairie Muffin #3 : Sisters, sisters! We’re missing the point. Don’t you see, if we use different terms to refer to our earthly lords, young girls might get the idea that it’s all right to use different terms to refer to other things as well.
Prairie Muffin #1 : Oh, dear heavens, you’re right! They’d go from there to believing it was all right to think differently, or… or dress differently…
Prairie Muffin #2 : <faints dead away>

Single women aspiring to be Prairie Muffins will be known as “Muffin Mixes” and young children of Prairie Muffins are “Mini Muffins.”

Wait, young children of either sex are known as Muffins? I thought the “muffin” designation applied only to females, but now I understand. We are clearly dealing with an alien species where the non-sentient females produce genderless young. These have to wait until the onset of puberty to develop into males or females. If they are unfortunate and become the latter, they remain in a dry, unformed and useless state until the addition of fluid and effort from a male.

I have to say, this is an interesting species. Completely unhuman and, one might say, inhuman, but interesting nevertheless for its utter misogyny.

Prairie Muffins are helpmeets to their husbands, seeking creative and practical ways to further their husbands’ callings and aid them in their dominion responsibilities.

Please, the husband’s probably out on the farm feeding two pigs and an arthritic chicken. Hardly something he needs help doing, though I must say, the word dominion just reinforced my impression that these people weren’t from terra firma. Or on it, for that matter.

Prairie Muffins are aware that God is in control of their ability to conceive and bear children, and they are content to allow Him to bless them as He chooses in this area.

Either the alien species is attempting to replenish what must be a severely depleted population, perhaps due to an epidemic or a nuclear holocaust, or it plans to defeat its enemies through sheer overbreeding. Use the Force of Fecundity, Luke!

Prairie Muffins own aprons and they know how to use them.

A whipping with the strings if they speak without being spoken to first?

Prairie Muffins place their husbands’ needs and desires above other obligations, arranging their schedules and responsibilities so that they do not neglect the one who provides for and protects them and their children.

Husbands seem like gods to these women. Lesser gods, perhaps, household gods as opposed to the world wide god, but still gods.

Prairie Muffins are fiercely submissive to God and to their husbands.

I wonder what happens if a Prairie Muffin’s husband ever decides that he’d like to have an equal partner in life, someone with a job and opinions of her own, someone who took responsibility for family planning. The Prairie Muffin would probably hit him with a rolling pin until he accepted her fierce submission.

Chocolate bon-bons may be a rare indulgence, but Prairie Muffins don’t have the time or inclination to waste their lives on soap operas or other inane and inappropriate entertainment.

Did she say “chocolate bon-bons”? I imagine the husband comes home, runs his finger along the mantelpiece to make sure she’s done the dusting, checks that the canned goods are turned so their labels face forward, and then has his hot dinner. Satisfied, he unwraps a chocolate bon-bon and balances it on the bridge of his wife’s nose. “Waaaait… when I say so, honey… just a moment longer… now!”

It’s sad that Prairie Muffins don’t seem to think there’s anything on TV other than soap operas, but that’s part of the caricature of femininity that the website paints. I’m sure that if the Prairie Muffins had to say what kind of books other women read, they’d pick Harlequin romances. It’s like a muffin/whore complex. Oh, and I’m not kidding about the author’s husband feeding her with little treats. There’s a line in her blog where she says,

I nibbled a piece of chocolate and drank a glass of wine (given to me earlier by my husband)

Maybe she met him at the door wearing the apron, and nothing but.

Though we abhor the idea of women being involved in the military and fighting battles which men are commanded to fight, Prairie Muffins recognize that there is a real battle in which they are on the front lines: the battle of the seed of the woman against the seed of the serpent.

Ah, I was right. The species does intend to use its unfettered reproductive potential to fight a war it appears to be losing. Let’s face it, if the males of this species must rely in any way on the passive and mindless females, it’s pretty much doomed.

In this most-important conflict, we gratefully serve King Jesus in the capacity He has given us, waving our wooden spoons

Good grief, they don’t even have food processors. What are they trying to do, out-Amish the Amish? As for the “King Jesus” part., I tried to recall any time in the Bible when Jesus put on a crown and asked that he be referred to with that title. Nothing came to mind, and even though the “king” made me think of a chessboard, that wouldn’t suit the Prairie Muffins. You know how much power the one female chesspiece has?

and rallying our children to stand alongside us in the battle, training them to be mighty warriors in the defense and furthering of God’s kingdom.

Shouldn’t that be Mighty Muffins? But at least these passive broodmares have a rich fantasy life where they are powerful warriors. Since their repressed anger and frustration can’t be shown to their husbands, it boils over at the only possible target – their children the legions of the damned. I’m sure that if said legions have a secret pathological fear of wooden spoons, the war will be over in no time.

Prairie Muffins are happy to be girls…

The spiritual equivalent of JonBenet Ramsay.

They are also happy that their husbands are masculine, and they do not diminish that masculinity by harping on habits which emanate from the fact that boys will be boys, even when they grow up.

I wonder if the husbands might like T-shirts saying, “I’m with Submissive” or “My other wife is a Domme”.

In addition, Prairie Muffins are careful not to use their feminine, hormotional weaknesses to excuse sinful attitudes and actions, but learn to depend more and more on God’s grace and strength in the midst of any monthly trials.

Anything men do is excused with “boys will be boys”, but women don’t get a corresponding “girls will be girls” excuse? Anyway, here’s a sure-fire cure for your monthly trials – get pregnant yet again. Let no egg go unfertilized!

The women who will have the greatest impact on the world, those who will have the greatest influence on history, are those “well-behaved” women…

Wow, Rosa Parks might have had an even bigger impact on history if she’d been well-behaved enough to get up and give her seat to a man. Then again, no decent woman would take a bus; she’d wait at home until her husband or father gave her permission and transportation to the grocery store, the church or the OB-GYN department. In the Muffinverse, those are the only legitimate places for a woman, and another article on this website spells out

Why christian women should not go to college

The article acknowledges that a few women in the bible did more than stay at home raising families – and weren’t cast down into hell for that – but the author’s reaction to that is odd, to say the least.

In other words, Deborah was a special case and we can’t use her as an example of the propriety of women pursuing a “vocation.” In fact, her leadership was a curse on the men of Israel for doing what was right in their own eyes and for being such wimps. Isaiah 3:12 also affirms that it is a curse to have women rulers.

So when a woman successfully leads her people, this is a “curse” according to the Prairie Muffins. I wonder, when a man leads, is that a blessing whether he is successful or not? Statements like that show the depth of misogyny in this mentality. It’s one thing to claim that you personally are unfit for leadership or independence or training pants. It’s another thing entirely to raise your daughters to believe this, and to cast aspersions on women who don’t choose the same battery-hen lifestyle.

Spending so many hours in the artificial environment of the classroom, people can sometimes become too dependent on a teacher to impart knowledge, and they understand more about fitting into a bureaucratic structure than about taking the initiative and forging new paths.

I’m not certain how one reconciles “taking the initiative and forging new paths” with raising a girl in a homeschooled hothouse atmosphere and indoctrinating her with the idea that she cannot and should not have a job or career. But then I came across this little mention of what unmarried girls can do instead of getting an education.

We like some of you have daughters of martial age [Freudian slip? – QoS] still living at home waiting for God to supply a Godly young man as a life-mate. Ireael is 22, Michaele is 20, they have each about completely finished copying the Bible, O.T. and N.T., by typing it or hand written.

That is definitely taking the road less trodden. I wonder what’ll happen if these girls reach the end of the bible before God supplies these Godly young men from his Godly warehouse. Maybe they could start again, but this time embroider the entire bible on samplers or tattoo it on themselves.

I’m afraid that instead [college] too often fosters intellectual arrogance and creates what R.C. Sproul, Jr. jokingly refers to as “Thunder Puppies.”

I wonder if these women use such silly terms to refer to everything. Lady, shouldn’t you be in the Yummy Tummy Place preparing Godly Hotpots to feed your ten or twelve children Mini Muppets?

Although I am mainly addressing the issue of young ladies going to college, I do question whether college is always necessary or beneficial for our sons, as well.

Well, at least she doesn’t always have a double standard. Hopefully her sons will never want to be doctors, engineers, lawyers, teachers or anything else requiring a college degree. I also wonder how much of the author’s antipathy towards education stems from a feeling that if she can’t have it, then by God her children aren’t going to have it either – and they’ll smile and enjoy not having it as much as she does.

… the common assumption that a well-rounded young woman needs to go away to college for something to “fall back on” can show a lack of trust in God’s provision and a lack of responsibility on the father’s part to properly consider his daughter’s future.

In the Muffinverse, all girls have fathers who take good care of them. Men are as robotic and mechanical as the women, since they never get sick or die until their daughters are safely married off. And fathers, being men, are perfect, so they never have any problems that might necessitate a daughter requiring an education and a job of her own.

That’s one reason the Muffins dislike the works of Louisa May Alcott and Laura Ingalls Wilder – although the URL of their site includes the words “buried treasure books”, Little House on the Prairie is not one of them. Let’s face it, Laura worked outside her home to help send her blind sister to college. I mean, college. Even after God struck the girl blind to keep her at home, she continued on her perverted path. As for Alcott, she actually claimed that women should have the right to vote, rather than the right to remain silent under any and all circumstances.

In summary, Prairie Muffinhood is a stifling, heavily restricted lifestyle and I’m almost sympathetic to the immense pressures it places on these women. They even have to wear uniforms dresses that range from frumpy to downright frightening.


“When my dolly grows up, she can wear this!”

If the Prairie Muffins only inflicted these mental (and polyester, see above) straitjackets on themselves, that would be one thing, but they don’t seem to acknowledge that there could be any other roles or choices for their children other than being in the front lines of the Battle of the Seed. Then again, the best slaves are those who believe that they should be slaves, who feel that they are unsuitable for any other position and who are happy to raise their children as slaves too. As for their veneration of their husbands and of the marital state, since they despise college and seem incapable or terrified of getting a job, no wonder they worship whoever pays their bills. The emphasis on having the largest possible litters could also be rooted in this fear. If the Muffin’s husband is called away to the great bakery in the sky, she’ll either have to cast herself on the offspring or marry again ASAP (and the new husband will want proof of her fertility). In the end, this sums it up succinctly :

Home, home on the range,
The Muffins shall cook and give birth,
And give birth and cook,
It says in the Good Book,
That’s all that a Muffin is worth.

Nun jokes – by Don Alhambra

You can blame Don Alhambra for these… and if you can do better (or worse) send ’em in! We have no shame…

Two nuns in a bath. One says, “Where’s the soap?” The other says,
“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?”


Two nuns are driving through Transylvania when a vampire jumps out in front of them. “Quick, show him your cross!” says the first. The second rolls down the window and shouts, “Get out of here, you toothy bastard!”


There’s a nun in the bath and she hears a knock on the door. “Who is it?” she calls out. “It’s the blind man,” comes the reply. So she thinks about this for a minute, and decides that that should be safe enough. “Ok, you can come in,” she says. The door opens and a man comes in, and says: “Nice tits, where do you want me to hang the blind?”


What’s black and white and very dangerous?
A nun on a skateboard.


A busload of nuns crashes and all the nuns are killed. They line up at the Pearly Gates and St. Peter calls out “OK! Can we form an orderly queue please? Now there are a lot of you today so we’ll do this as efficiently as we can. You’re all nuns so you should have been fairly good, but in order to get in I need you to tell me if you’ve ever touched a penis.”

The first nun steps forward. “I… might have touched one with the tip of my finger once,” she says.

Peter nods. “Ok, that’s not so bad. Just dip your finger in this holy water here, and you’re in.” The nun does so, and is admitted to Heaven. Peter turns to the next nun.

“Um… I kind of gave one a bit of a massage once,” the nun says.

Peter nods again. “Weelll, that’s not too bad I guess. Just dip your hand in this holy water here, and you’re in.” The nun does so, and is admitted to Heaven.

Just then there is a scuffle and some shouting from the back of the line. St. Peter shouts, “What’s going on? Calm down, all of you! Now what is behind all this fuss?”

And a voice from the back of the line shouts, “Well I’m damn sure I’m going to gargle with that stuff before Sister Mary sticks her arse in it!”


A Mother Superior and two junior nuns are killed in a car crash. At the Pearly Gates, St. Peter says to them: “Ok ladies, in order to get into Heaven you will need to answer a couple of questions. Since you’re nuns this shoudn’t be too difficult.”

He turns to the first nun. “What was the name of the first man?”

“Adam,” she promptly replies, and is admitted into Heaven.

Peter turns to the second nun. “What was the name of the first woman?”

“Um… Eve,” the second nun replies and is admitted into Heaven.

Peter finally turns to the Mother Superior. “Now, since you are senior, the question is going to be more difficult. Think carefully before answering. What did the first woman say to the first man when they first met?”

The Mother Superior thinks for a moment. “My, that’s a hard one,” she says.

And she is admitted to Heaven.

Plognark’s Cartoon Corner!


Plognark’s Cartoon Corner!

God Outside Time

God Outside Time

Nutwatch – by Queen of Swords

Hi everyone, and welcome to a New Year’s Nutwatch! Today’s subject has a name which would be better suited to a backpack with special pockets for pencils and erasers, but don’t be fooled. In a world filled with demon attacks and nocturnal invasions, this website provides all the weapons and training that Christian soldiers need before marching off to war. It’s Dungeons and Dragons for the devoutly religious, even revealing a secret special language for christians; get ready for the LARPers in the whole armor of god, because the first Nutwatch of 2008 dismantles

The Christian Student Equipper

By “Student” they mean West Point cadet, and by “Equipper”, they mean arsenal. Brace yourself for the shock and awe of battling Satan’s forces, mano a demono, as revealed in the Enemy Encounter Manual on

Spiritual Warfare

“There is an invisible spiritual realm where a battle is taking place beyond our ability to see with our natural eyes.”

I wondered why the author of this webpage needed to spell out what “invisible” meant, but then I realized that it was addressed to fundamentalists. At least they aren’t likely to wonder, as I did, about the point of a battle without a conclusion, achievable goals or casualties, much less why a supposedly omnipotent god needs anyone to fight such a battle on his behalf.

“It is from here where the demonic attacks the lives of both Christians and non-Christians.”

Why would Satan attack non-Christians? Didn’t they sleep in long enough on Sunday? Were they not apathetic enough in not celebrating his birthday?

“The articles you will find here on the Equipper will help you not only to discern demonic influence but to also gain victory in demonic spiritual attack.”

It’s interesting how different sites handle demonic spiritual attack. I’ve read some which relied on “mighty warrior angels” to defend the faithful, but this one gives +1 to Discernment, which makes the demons fail their saving damning throw. No need for angels when the christians are so powerful, though, endowed with all the skills and accessories described in the article on


Early Warning System – The Lord can use this gift to even warn you of the presence of cultists who are about to approach you.”

Unprotected Christian : Oh look, there are some nice people in orange robes, with bald heads. They must be chemotherapy patients. Let us comfort them and convert them.
Christian armed with Early Warning System : Hold, brother! My spirit-sense is tingling! I detect the presence of cultists!
Unprotected Christian : Pfft, you said that in church as well.

“There may not be an visible signs to detect if someone approaching you belongs to a cult and aims to deceive you.”

Shaving of the scalp to find the 666 birthmark is not recommended unless the cultist is outnumbered.

“There have been incidences where, 30 feet away for example, the Holy Spirit can forewarn you in order to prepare you.”

The author must imagine christians watching the world from behind a red computer screen, a la the Terminator. Targets: 2. Distance: 30 ft and closing. Cult: Jehovah’s Witness (zoom in on copy of The Watchtower).

“Witnessing – The Holy Spirit can reveal how either a person is bound, influenced, or deceived. This can be a very insightful witnessing aide!”

I see why the author is careful to use the word “can”. No christian has ever approached me to say, “The Holy Spirit has revealed to me that you’re an atheist who was formerly a born-again christian”. Instead, they’ve come to me in all innocence, thinking I’ve never heard of their god or their holy book. They have all been speedily enlightened.

Hmm, maybe the deception isn’t on the non-christians’ part.

“Defense – Often times cultists like preying on young Christians.”

Please, Catholic priests are not cultists.

“The Holy Spirit may allow a Christian to discern the kinds of spirits hovering over the cultists attacking the Christian spiritually as the cultist attacks the Christian verbally.”

“It’s the Spirit of St. Louis and the spirit of Christmas past!” Seriously, though, I’m sure this is supposed to be a fierce battle fought on the spiritual plane as well as the physical plane (with the one being a mirror to the other), but it comes off as a scuffle between two sets of puppets. And the Holy Spirit is the more passive puppetmaster by far. The same theme carries into the next article. Christians are pretty much on their own when it comes to battling the forces of supreme evil, and the help they get from god amounts to damage control at best. No wonder the Christian Student Equipper tries to protect them from the greatest danger of all…

The Thought Process

“You’ve probably felt it before. A “thought dart” suddenly strikes you, as if out of nowhere”

And you take 2d6 damage unless you were wearing the armor of god. Still, it’s good to know that thoughts, for the author of this webpage, apparently come out of nowhere. I can’t imagine living in such fear of one’s own brain.

“with thoughts like, “Why continue being a Christian?” “God doesn’t exist!” “Sex isn’t wrong. If it feels good, do it! After all, she/he wants it too!””

I hope the christian is right about the last sentence, unlikely though this might seem.

“A temptation, a lustful feeling, a sudden silent shout in your mind of destructive thinking. Satan plants a suggestion. Or he even tells you what to think!”

Perish the idea that christians might come up with naughty thoughts all by themselves. Apparently the devil made them do it.

“Satan will tell you to satisfy yourself, give yourself pleasure, recognition.”

By this logic, god will tell you to make yourself miserable, give yourself pain and go unrecognized. This is a religion for masochists.

“So when a flood of thoughts come, just ask God to cleanse your mind… Cut off all sources of sensory input”

Man, even Jesus stopped at the eyes and hands when he was describing body parts that could be amputated.

“that contribute and reinforce and magnify the direction Satan is trying to yank you.”

“Sex? You wanted sex? I’m Chaotic Neutered!” God seems uninvolved in the yanking or wanking, though god isn’t nearly as prominently featured as Satan in these sections of the Christian Student Equipper. Then again, the dark side of the Force is more proactive and powerful by far for these spiritual warriors, so they have to ask questions such as

Can Satan Read My Mind?

“Some Christians are gravely concerned over the idea that Satan can read a person’s thoughts.”

That explains the lack of thoughts. It’s the only way to foil Satan the Psi Cop.

“Does it really matter? There is a tremendous difference between being able to see the future or into people’s minds, or Satan getting some demons to tell you through a fortune teller that a brick will drop on your head, and getting another bunch of demons to make a person perform the action some time in the future! Who knows? Who cares?”

Why can’t Satan just drop something on your head himself? And why does it take a “bunch” of demons (I have learned a new collective noun today) to make a person drop a brick? I also have no idea what Satan is trying to achieve through this complicated scheme – does he want to make his target send money to Madame Cleo, or does he just have a vested interest in inflicting brain damage? Most of all, why am I putting more thought into this than the author ever did? But perhaps that’s a natural consequence of thoughts emanating from one’s brain, instead of randomly dropping out of nowhere. I can see why the author might want to stop this dangerous process via gravity-propelled brick.

At least the final “Who knows? Who cares?” is very appropriate. It’s difficult to be concerned about demons who have to resort to the convoluted psychic equivalent of a Rube Goldberg device. That’s probably why the author describes demon rapists in the article on

Nocturnal invasions

“A “nocturnal invasion” is an attack that comes at night, especially when you’re asleep or in that half-awake state in which you’re between the states of being asleep and being fully aware of what’s going on. During this time, our defenses are naturally low…”

much like our pyjama waistbands.

“Night attacks have ranged from engaging in sexual fantasies and the coinciding physical self-gratification, to fear of an assailant broken into the house, to even demonic visitations where some have seen demons threaten to kill – or even rape – the victim.”

Apparently rape is worse than murder when it’s performed by demons, maybe because the former presents the risk of conceiving a half-demon baby, which of course cannot be aborted. Interesting, though, that the author starts out with a battle that couldn’t be seen through one’s “natural eyes”, but now claims that people have seen demons threaten rape and murder. Perhaps invisible wannabe rapist demons were just not scary enough.

“Some night attacks can feel as distinct as some unseen being sitting on your head and wrapping its legs around, and sinking its hands into your mind to initiate foul dreams.”

This is similar to the sensation of a pigeon sitting on your head, because that initiates fowl dreams.

“Whether you can audibly speak or not, just gather your wits”

Well, that shouldn’t take long at all.

“and stand firm… You may also want to follow up by prayerfully applying the Blood of Jesus over your mind to cleanse you of the incident.”

No one has ever bled as many useful liquids as Jesus has. Wine substitute, dye, detergent, lubricant… but speaking of body fluids, there’s a great line in the article on

Overcoming net sex

“…lift up your hands and worship God, and let tears of love, intimacy and healing flow. It’s beautiful, and let those tears be your sacrifice unto God. God has a special bottle in which He collects all your precious tears.”

I wonder if this bottle has a rubber teat at the top. As well as a special bottle, god also has a special language (baby talk?) that christians can use to communicate with him, and it’s described in the article about

Speaking in tongues

“This is the gift of the Holy Spirit by which you have a personal prayer language which you do not understand yourself, nor do other men understand; however, God understands it fully!”

I could understand praying in Godcode if this confounded the villainous schemes of any demons or cultists who might be listening. But if you yourself don’t understand the language, what’s the point of praying in it? Just to be special?

“Myself, I did not obtain the release to speak in this personal prayer language until five months later.”

It took the author five months to advance to Level 8, when he gained the Mystic Language skill. This was a great disappointment to him, since he was hoping for Berserker Rage.

“I did, however, experience a discerning of spirits and even laughing in the Spirit.”

What’s difference between regular laughing and laughing in the Spirit? Does the latter sound like “Haw Haw”?

“…we need to step out in faith and speak the first word that God drops in our spirit, however crazy it sounds. When we do so in childlike faith, God gives us the next sylable, and the next, until it flows into a mature and complete language.”

Christian with childlike faith : Cthulhu fhtagn.
God : Yesss. Goood. Morrrrre.
Christian with childlike faith : Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh! I don’t know what this means, but I’m enfolded in His love, and warmth, and tentacles!

There’s a great deal more nitwittery on this website, but these are the highlights of what must be a very entertaining fantasy lifestyle, from the secret language to the anti-cultist radar (praydar?) to the visits from incubi or succubi. Or both. The Christian Student Equipper’s grip on reality may be none too strong, but that’s part of its goofy charm. The only thing that makes me feel sorry for the author is the fear of sex, though I imagine the hardcore gamer warrior lifestyle goes a long way to protection in this regard. And this way, there’s more time to fight the demons, convert the cultists, gain special skills and write other amusing articles on the process. Win-win, all around.

Till next time, everyone!

Queen of Swords