In Praise Of The Messiah

by Nigel Best

“Bring on the new messiah,

Wherever he may roam.”

(Echo and the Bunnymen)

Well, here you have it. From the greatest orator in the annals of oratory genius, Trump, a man of such linguistic magnitude such as has never before been experienced on this lowly planet.

I now just prostate myself twice daily before my blacklight poster of his holiness in acknowledgment that I am lucky to even be allowed the space to even breathe the same rarified air as this man, at this time.

To be so alive at this moment in a history that revealed and thus bestowed the deified one upon me. What a privilege!

That I am even granted a place on the hallowed ground of this planet on which he floats…

Wait! Crap!

I think that sweaty purse full of smoking incense heading down the chapel has mushed my brain. Heroin isn’t as potent as this shit.

Wo, damn! Anyway…

Trump, the fountain of never-ending truths, today expanded my limited knowledge of all things earthly by educating me from his exalted UN podium that the most persecuted religion on the earth today is Christianity!

Who knew?

After genuflecting thrice in solidarity for my Christian brethren, I immediately realized that all Muslims, Jews, and lesser God-fearing cults can finally come out into the light, now having less fear being viciously or violently attacked.

I realized Trump’s words are a trumpet call from heaven, a call to take up into my bosom the Jesus-loving souls who so need protection from this “persecution.”

It’s a tough road ahead. I’m sure that as the Christians try to flee their persecutors there will at least be the comforting thought of migrant boats available to transport them away from any tyrannical state, luxurious beds with huge, thread-count linens and meals at migrant camps.

And, finally, that welcome mat of safety as they and their families cross into a welcoming country. as asylum seekers.

Because, much like any persecuted peoples,having to flee a family home or country was how they envisioned their lives to turn out. Fleeing persecution to protect their children from harm because of a faith in a god, that was always how people saw their existence.

So, pass me a string of rosary beads or a King James bible. Maybe let me have a look at some of those gold tablets that only Smith was allowed to see. Allow me to put some silver coins into the collection plates of religions that love to dazzle us with their gold statues and fine art paintings.

Actually, perhaps I should begin with a rousing rendition of that ode to salvation, Amazing Grace. Or a hum-along of that uplifting homage dedicated to empire, colonialism, and manifest destiny, Onward Christian Soldiers.

I digress, as always.

Just know, though, I am here to keep my Christian brethren (just not the women folk-- a step too far forward these days) from being slashed to death on a cathedral’s altar, or nailed to a cross to be crucified just like in those days of old., or to be gunned down in their places of worship.

Christians, I want you to know I hear your caterwauling.

To all those millions of persecuted Christians worldwide whose plight was announced from the pulpit at the United Nations,, I say, “Praise be to Trump. Hallelujah for that righteous man,”