I’m not in a good mood today, having stayed up to the early hours to watch my Premier League team Fulham, desperately needing a win, throw away a two goal lead. Not sure why this still upsets me but it does. So there’s a bit of venom in the brain today, and it’s come out in the form of satire. I acknowledge a debt to the great, veteran, British performance poet Attila the Stockbroker for this one. He did a wonderful piece called “The Bible according to Rupert Murdoch“. I’ve pinched the idea and turned it into this:
The Gospel According to St. Tony
after Attila the Stockbroker
In the beginning was the word
and the word was Stop!
And the Lord said:
Let there be a plague of slogans and let there be a slogan for every prejudice,
Yea, even until the prejudiced themselves will say “Stop the Slogans”
And let St. Tony be the prophet whose mouth will constantly chant these slogans
And let St. Rupert be the holy messenger of these slogans
for he has minions in every corner of the land waiting to write the word.
And let this plague of slogans spread across the land so that the people hear and see nothing except “Stop”.
And St. Tony, in his raiment of red speedo and chest of camel hair, hearing the words of the Lord, smirked in an unholy way.
And St. Rupert said:
Now, let us also send forth the shock jocks of the east for verily, they will gladly mouth these slogan ad nauseam.
And let the old growth forests be felled to feed the paper mills so that my media empire can engrave the word “Stop!” in 4 inch headlines on newsprint every day unto eternity.
And let not the people be allowed to think of anything but “Stop!
For thinking leads to fornication, sodomy and bestiality and if any reporter dares to start an article, not with the holy word “Stop!” let he or she be cast forever from the media empire and spend eternity volunteering for Radio Adelaide.
And the Lord looked down on St. Rupert’s work and on St. Tony’s slogans and saw that they were indeed execrable.
But this was capitalism, and it made rich the robber barons of the land and so it was good.
But lo, it came to pass that the people went mad from the constant slogans. They took to drink and drugs, fornication, footy, home renovations and cooking to deaden their pain.
And St. Rupert sent forth his Fox Channel familiars to film the people and all the goings-on thereof, and made it into a top rating reality show.
And so the beginning of the end began.
And from there, things got even worse.
© Mike Hopkins 2014