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God Is No Respecter Of Pop Stars

I am reading around some of the echoes of the death of David Bowie. The stupidest is, predictably, Cardinal Ravasi. This one is such an ass that when someone dies who has spread for several decades an aggressive anti-Christian message he does not have anything better to do than tweet some nonsense appreciative of the songs of the pervert and of his life of cross-dressing and bisexual scandal. Not only one wonders whether Cardinal Ravasi knows what it means to be a priest. One wonders whether the man is a homosexual himself. That he is an ass dressed in red, however, there can be no doubt.

Ravasi gets the biscuit. But there must be many not very far away for him. Countless fans will, as I write this, easily persuade themselves that if there is a hell – which, I am sure, many of them doubt – the man has certainly avoided it because, say, he loved some good cause – which public figure doesn't… – or engaged himself in some public and very easy battle – see above… – or even recited the Our Father at some celebration of his very faggoty singing colleague, Freddie Mercury.

Erm, no. If one does not repent of his sins, much less believe in God, he can pray the Our Father as much as he wants, it will be to no avail. If one lives a life in total opposition to everything that is Christian, very publicly doing so and even building an entire singer's career upon it, one public prayer isn't going to wash. Besides, in the confused mind of the average pot-smoking Bowie fan an Our Father at a public commemoration is something just cool, because so easily emotional. That Freddy Mercury, the person for whom Bowie said that prayer, was a sodomite to his very last hours – the ladies please look away now, but I was told in 1992 by reliable sources that the autopsy found on his stomach the sperm of one or many men, I forget the details… – did not seem to have inspired any fear of the Lord in Bowie himself as he prayed it.

The fact is that God is no respecter of persons. Being a famous singer or actor will count exactly zero, zilch, and zippo when the day of the redde rationem comes. On the contrary: a man like Bowie, who was the embodiment of scandal, will have to answer for decades of worldwide leading astray of souls.

If Bowie saved his sorry ass – which I wish him, but consider very improbable – it is not because he was famous, or good at singing, or good at acting, or a lover of kitten and daisies. It was because in his last moments he was given the grace to reject everything he was for many decades.

Fame, honour, fans, do not count anymore when one dies. It was a long party, and one wished that it could go on forever; but now the time is up, and one must give an account and be judged accordingly. There is no indication whatever that Bowie was prepared.

This leads me to the last point of today. In my opinion, the fear of the Lord of many a Catholics, and of many a blogger, is easily seen when these events occur. One who thinks that, say, you can be a public sodomite all your life and save (cough) your ass just with one or three vague public utterances of something vaguely resembling goodness obviously thinks it much easier for everyone else to be saved. This shows a clear lack of fear of the Lord, because it is obvious the blogger or quisque de populo thinks that he'll must be feared only by Pol Pot and very few others.

If the death of one like Bowie does not fill you with dread at his very probable destination, I must question your fear of the Lord. This one was a very, very prime candidate. Fame will not be of any avail to him. Actually, fame very probably lulled him in a false sense of security, and pumped his ego to the very end.

The same goes for that other bunch of perverted idiots like Elton John and Mick Jagger (the latter, by the way, an ass-buddy of Bowie himself). The world, which is stupid, praises them to the sky; but the clock is ticking, and they should take heed and wake up whilst they can.

God is no respecter of pop stars.

M

 

Another One Bites The Dust; Or, The Real Meaning Of Mercy

Not sure this one here got the message....

The death of David Bowie was everywhere today, and the Buggers Broadcasting Communism have not missed the occasion to show some revolting pics.

Bowie's clearly perverted mind was amply publicised. Wikipedia has the quote about his being peeved at not being completely atheist, and his experiments with Buddhism (note to the readers: many Buddhists are atheists). This is the man who used to introduce his former wife joking about the fact that they knew each other because they were “f*****g the same bloke”. Go figure.

But did the man change in the end? Did a death which certainly announced itself many months in advance (what a great chance! What a great grace! What wonderful…. Mercy!) helped him to obtain a Christian death? I very much doubt. The fact that a 69 years old is more worried with publishing a new album three days before his death than with uttering one Christian word about his future destination does not make one (cough) very optimistic.

I always found David Bowie disgusting and repulsive; even in that age in which many seem to consider a duty to side with everything that is wrong and horrible. Still, it would have been a great personal consolation to know that even a walking rubbish bin like Bowie could publicly convert and choose the right side in the end; it would, by the way, have been a great victory for Christianity.

Here we see, my dear readers, the real meaning of Mercy. Mercy was extended to him up to the very last moment. So much so, that If he sincerely repented and believed, it is reasonable to think that Bowie escaped hell. Alas, it does not seem reasonable to think that he repented and believed. Therefore – and bar a miracle that can never be excluded, but would be naive beyond stupidity to assume – it is very reasonable to think that, even as I write this, Bowie is already in the terrifying company of so many people he knew and who preceded him there; of whom – I cannot but think – one in particular must have greeted him with the very bitter words:

“Another one bites the dust”

Mercy was extended to Bowie up to his last breath. If he accepted this wonderful gift and died with a perfect contrition, he saved his sorry ass in the end, and we all rejoice for this. This is the great Mercy of the Lord; it is so big and generous, that it will be extended even to a David Bowie until the very last moment.

But if the “man” (I am feeling generous today) refused to accept the great gift extended to him, and died unrepentant and in enmity with Christ, then there is only one conclusion: the man is suffering eternal torment now, as I write this, and there is nothing he can do for it. Time's up, Davie boy. “Life in Hell” could be a great title for the next album.

He who spits on God's mercy will discover the folly of his action when it's too late.

Say your three “eternal rest” for the man, at least for the sake of his poor guardian angel.

And then shudder at thinking where the man is, very probably, now as I write this.

M

 

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