Michael Coren’s Original Aesthete’s Diary
Sunday, April 14, 1991
I attend Mass. It is a highly contemporary service, full of priests kissing young open-mouthed boys, Lesbian nuns removing their clothes and a Diabolist lecturing from the pulpit about the coming of the Horned One.
A well-known Bishop and pederast tells me that abortion should not only be permissible, but compulsory, and that Jesus was a typical example of a Jewish Mother Syndrome broken child, I respond that this is surely both anti-Christian and anti-Semitic, but the Episcopal lord merely spits on the floor and walks into the confessional with a most obliging and, I must say, agreeable catamite.
Is the Church moving in the right direction, I muse to myself. Difficult to know, but there is surely much to be said for enlightened liberalism.
Friday, May 10, 1991
My man brings in the newspapers, freshly ironed. As I peruse them there us little to read about other than depression, recession, poverty.
Personally, I approve of all this suffering, because it tends to rejuvenate those spiritual values which are so lacking in contemporary Canada.
But if the poor are unhappy, there are usually two tried and tested solutions. The first is to eat your Social Worker. For the victim this would be the ultimate sacrifice, making worthwhile all those degrees in Animal Psychology and Abuse Studies. For the poor it would mean nourishment and succour though some of our care-givers are on the scrawny side these days.
The second method is to put the prettiest daughter of the clan into the lucrative and outdoor life of prostitution. Most poor people have far too many offspring, and would not miss one youngster; it would also stop dad from getting his lascivious and alcoholic hands on her.
There are some families, of course, who possess no daughters who are in any way sexually attractive or physically appealing to anybody other than the blind or the severely handicapped. For those unfortunates, I advise turning to Christ Jesus, and making the best of a bad life.
Saturday, May 11, 1991
I am on holiday. The city of God’s Holy Juggler us indeed beautiful, but is marred by a noisy demonstration held by GAWFA: Gay Abattoir Workers for Abortion.
I sometimes ponder in my darker moments that there is no future for the cause of liberalism and the left. Homosexuals are either dying of AIDS or simply not procreating, and radical women are aborting their children as quickly as you can say Henry Morgentaler.
The future generation will be composed of evangelical conservatives, and a few cretinous products of the clumsy attempts by Lesbians to impregnate one another with turkey basters. Depressing.