The bleating of an old man

It’s the pope’s fault that I’m slowly turning into my father – old curmudgeon that he is.

You see, the grand wizard pontiff warned Muslim leaders recently not to misuse religion for political means. Which was a bit rich, to say the least. Before I knew it, I was shouting at the telly again.

I mean really, when has the Catholic Church ever restricted its meddling? Given the slightest chance, it interferes in all manner of things. Take their ‘loving and omnipotent’ god for a start, who, despite being responsible for our entire universe, would still like to micro-manage your sex life.

Only as a tactic of retreat has the Church ever attempted to restrict its interference. As it continues its inexorable decline into irrelevance for the vast majority of us, many factions of the church have retreated into the unfalsifiable territory of ‘Spirituality’ and become nothing more than a pathetic foe to the relentless force of rationality, science and human learning.

Yet the pope still pontificates upon morality like it’s his God given right to do so. Seriously, it boils my piss.

When it comes to the moral teachings of Christianity, or any religion for that matter, they are largely uncontroversial because almost any moral system must find a place for their tenets: Do to others as you would have them do to you, try to be honest, peaceful and considerate whenever you can.

Moral content peculiar to religion however, is invariably perverse, twisted and bizarre. Perhaps they are of their time – a one of violence, pestilence and poverty. Nevertheless, I struggle to understand why considering the Cormorant, Lapwing or Weasel unclean conferred any advantage to the faithful.

Religion offers nothing of specific value any more. What it does offer, distinct from other, rational codes of morality is miserable, sick and something we can do without, quite frankly.

Now mother, where did I leave my slippers?