Yes, in Stupidville, Mel Gibson was critically deep-fried for a gospel accurate depiction of Christ’s substitutionary death for the world’s wantonness, but this Da Vinci Code dude is hailed as Hollywood’s Playmate of the Month for his historical re-write regarding the deity and life of Christ. How sweet and . . . how telling.
Were any of you unfortunate enough to have happened upon Entertainment Tonight this past week and to catch the eternally blonde Mary Hart gush over this phlegm—I mean film? Y’know, aside from Mary (and the MSM), the only other people I know who are this excited about fresh BS are the people who own fertilizer companies.
Mary, if you’re reading this column, I’ve got some advice for you: 1) Less is more and 2) Please quit your job . . . like right now. We want to remember the young and “with it” Mary, not the rapidly aging desperate host who will endorse anything to stay on TV. Look, you had a good run; but it is now time to hand the salacious baton to another bubble headed bleach blonde and let her keep us abreast of all things absurd.
Now, I want to address the church. Hey, Christians: dial down a bit. Most rational people understand that The Da Vinci Code is a work of fiction (except for some in Miami . . . in particular, the Costco wizards who put the book in the non-fiction section).
I, personally (Lord forgive me), couldn’t care less if the ones who think this 21st century regurgitation of first century Gnosticism is true ever come to church. Who wants these gullible doofuses around? These are probably the same people that bought a Flobee, or worked for Howard Dean, or think that the Ron Popeil’s Pocket Fisherman is a real doozy, or sent Clooney medical questions while he was on ER and think Martin Sheen would make a good president. I say let these lemmings lock step with Dan Brown and his Church of the New Groove.
If this book/movie causes non-Christians to not to believe in Christ, as portrayed in scripture, then let them not believe. In addition, if The Da Vinci Code causes the fringe adherents of our fellowship to exchange the greatest story ever told for the greatest turkey ever sold, then let them. To each his own.
Matter of fact, the church ought to go the second mile and instead of berating these people help them design a bumper sticker identifying themselves as The Da Vinci Code adherents. I’m thinkin’ instead of fish symbol, Dan’s droogies could placard their hybrids with a photo of Jethro Bodine or maybe a silhouette of a house with lights on but no one home.
Look, church, I’m all for bearding false prophets Elijah-style, and I’m glad that our apologists have risen to the occasion and confronted this easy-to-pick-apart book/movie, but we need to relax; this film shall pass, and we have substantially bigger fish to fry. I predict, at the end of the hype, that this film will flop like the hairdos in A Flock of Seagulls. It’s got Oliver Stone’s Alexander written all over it, and the initial critiques coming from the critics at Cannes this week are a bit on the caustic side. This flick will never, ever come close to The Passion’s numbers.
In addition to apologists coming forth and defending the truth claims of the scripture, I’m also delighted to see believers getting righteously PO’d at this continuous, gratuitous assault against Christianity in Tinsel Town. Not only am I pig sick of Hollywood, but I’m also furious with the Louvre. I had planned to buy the Mona Lisa and The Last Supper with the cash from my new book deal, but now . . . now, I’m taking my business elsewhere.
Lastly, I’ve got a word for Mr. Brown. Congratulations on your temporal success. I hope you enjoy it. Also, I’ve got to give you props in the nerve department for going out on a limb with a touchy topic like this. You’ve got some juevos in picking a fight with Jesus and the Church. For your sake, I hope that you’re right in what you’ve tabled in The Da Vinci Code. If you’re not right, you’d better hope that Jesus is in a chipper mood when you meet Him at the Judgment Seat. Yeah … you had better pray that He’s breezy with your blasphemous botching of His bio—because if He’s not, you might want to duck when you finally go toe-to-toe with Him.
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