Oooh, Mel Gibson’s father is an evil old fart. Wonder how he’s going to blame the devoutly-to-be-wished backlash on the “worldwide Jewish conspiracy?” (Clearly never spent ten minutes in a room with members of my tribe; as they say, “Where there are two Jews, there are three opinions.”) Also, while we’re here, perhaps one of these nutburgers could explain how the Vatican 2 reforms, which I understand to have been given all or in part ex cathedra, are not to be followed? Are they only compelled to listen to the Pope when they like what he’s saying, like the part where Mel Gibson says his wife is going to hell despite the sainthood-inducing task of putting up with Mel and her father-in-law? (Yes, ladies, maybe she does tape his mouth shut around the house. Though I think he’s just generally kind of icky, so for me even that wouldn’t do the trick.) (UPDATE: Two lightning strikes, a woman dropping dead at a screening, and now the Number of the Beast appearing on show tickets — Gibson’s down with the mammon on this one, but you have to ask yourself if he is in fact mentioned by name in Revelations. It’s certainly starting to look that way.)


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