My Latest Moral Superior

« April 2008 »
SuMoTuWeThFrSa
5
6
9
12
13
19
20
23
25
26
27

Memo to LaVerne Jordan: SURELY YOU ARE DUMB.

As an atheist, I am accustomed to certain fundamental societal assumptions. And foremost amongst those assumptions is that I, the godless, lack a moral code handed down on high from a celestial being 2,100 years ago and scrawled by relative primitives onto scrolls. And as a result, I cannot be as moral as someone who follows the teachings of the Abrahamic God, and, very often, his bastard son Beardyface.

Which is why I feel particularly compelled to point and laugh whenever these inherently moral people turn out to be perverted, classless horndogs. Especially when they're striving for at the very least the bronze medal in the two-hundred-meter ick. And extra bonus especially when they hold a position of power in the church and abuse that power. And whipped cream especially with an especially cherry on top when they're a pigfucker from Texas.

Which, in the traditional manner to which we've all become accustomed, brings us to LaVerne Jordan, whose name is French for "The Verne Jordan". Jordan runs Parkway Christian School in Houston, Texas. Parents in Houston, Texas, who want only Jesus's best education for their children, but can't be bothered to home-school, want to send their children to Parkway Christian School. Of course, quality religious education does not come free. It costs $300 bucks just to ENROLL.

Luckily, Parkway Christian School is a progressive, forward-thinking organization, and it recognizes the effects of the weakening of the dollar during the Bush years. Therefore, LaVerne Jordan is prepared to accept innovative alternative payment plans. I think you know what's coming. ACTUAL QUOTE TIME!

"For the uh, enrollment fee and stuff like that, maybe you and I can do something, you think? ... The enrollment fee, yeah... If you and I get together... Excuse me and I don't mean to be so blunt but I am talking about fucking you."

Now imagine that sweet talk, like a Shakespearean sonnet only without the rhyming or meter or number of lines, coming from a late-middle-aged, paunchy, white-haired, bespectacled dude in a checkered shirt. How could any woman resist those considerable charms? It's like being hit on by a jowly, stupid Hank Hill, only 20 years older. Still, LaVerne thinks he's got a rocket in his pocket, along with a value-pak of Viagra from the Wal-Mart:

"For the $300 I would expect maybe we could get together several times, you think?" When pressed for an explanation, he replied, "Well I don't know, you might like whatcha getting." I would like to point out that while the official transcript that I'm using*, from KTRK in Houston who conducted the sting operation, includes the final "G" in "getting", there is NO EVIDENCE for the existence of that "G" on the tape.

But wait, you ask. Could that be all there is? An icky old Southern Christian clumsily attempting to extract sexual favors from a parent in need? We demand more from our free web columns! We demand horrifyingly-worded attempts to ease into said sexual favors! And I have cunningly anticipated your demand.

"If you're not in like just a great big hurry, I know uh, of a place not too far that we can go and I can just do that we can just do some play around a little bit. Would you like that? We could go and we could do some titty play."

I tell you this, there are only two reactions to hearing a guy named LaVerne offer up some titty play in his Texas twang. If you are a man, your penis has become a hermit, and now lives in a shack in the woods writing manifestos, and will continue to do so until we can find a way to make Y chromosomes apologize. And if you're a woman, your legs have permanently fused together, and I deeply regret all future hopping today's column has caused you.

LaVerne Jordan, ladies and gentlemen. Place him and me side by side, with our curriculum vitae and religious affiliations prominently displayed, and most of the people walking past would chuck clods of dirt at MY head, not his. Yet I never have, and never will, ask anyone for three hundred bucks worth of titty play. Because I don't need a two-thousand-year-old book to tell me that's wildly inappropriate and seriously wrong.

*Although I did replace the censor-dashes, because the FCC has no jurisdiction here.