The Miracle of Q

Just when you think that things couldn’t possibly get any weirder, they do.

Miraculously.

Along with the daily struggle of navigating our ways through an obstacle course littered with a pandemic, a nearly collapsed economy, record unemployment, continuing racial strife, the deliberate dismantling of the USPS, the on-going chants from the deeply annoying anti-maskers and anti-vaxxers, and a scattering of war and pestilence hither and yon around the world, along comes Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Republican from Georgia who won a primary runoff in a heavily Republican district last Tuesday.

In all likelihood, Greene will win a seat in Congress come November. She has publicly supported QAnon—a fringe group pushing a pro-Trump conspiracy theory—and has espoused the movement’s belief, however unfounded, that President Trump, as noted in The New York Times, “is on the verge of breaking up a shadowy cabal of Satan-worshipping pedophiles.”

Considering his seemingly close ties to Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell it would be more likely that he’s trying to protect a cabal of pedophiles without regard to who they might worship.

Having re-tweeted messages from QAnon, Trump congratulated Greene on her primary victory, recognizing her as a “future Republican star.”

Curiously, QAnon seems to exist in a far-right vacuum of suspicious origin, sort of in a corner of the netherworld of American politics. It’s a bit like an Alt-Right think tank for paranoid conspiracy theorists.

The movement, such as it were, is gaining truck in the ranks of the Republican Party much like the Tea Party did in 2008. It’s difficult, however, to know who these people are. The origins point to an anonymous source claiming insider access and information that mostly points to shadow governments, “deep states,” and conspiracy theories that seem far-fetched at best. From 9/11 to COVID-19, everything that has happened had at its root something inexplicable but was nonetheless clearly the heinous work of dark forces, or so they think.

The FBI has noted that QAnon poses a domestic terror threat and yet, at a press briefing on Friday, Trump refused to answer a reporter’s question about the baseless, far-right conspiracy theories that Greene has found to be “something worth listening to.” (He was, perhaps, still reeling from a reporter’s asking if he regretted telling all the lies he’s told over the past three-and-a-half years.)

Greene’s runoff opponent, John Cowan, ran ads during the campaign saying, “All of the conservative. None of the embarrassment.” He told Politico, “She is not conservative—she’s crazy…She deserves a YouTube channel, not a seat in Congress. She’s a circus act.” He lost by 15 points.

Welcome to the un-drained swamp.

Last week, in a desperate struggle to renew his lease on the Oval Office, Trump led the charge to coin a clever, yet demeaning, nickname for Kamala Harris, who, in all likelihood will shred Mike Pence to pieces in an October debate, and then start planning how to prosecute Trump with an Attorney General without a political agenda. Trump’s lame name, “Phony Kamala,” doesn’t ring as true as Madam Vice President will.

And, what’s a political campaign that doesn’t question the birthplace of Black candidates, although there’s even been some anxious hand-wringing about if she is, in fact, even Black? That doesn’t seem to be a question for Mayor Barry Presgraves of Luray, Virginia, who posted a comment on FaceBook that Joe Biden had chosen “Aunt Jemima” to be his running mate.

Can we sink any lower?

Trump has thus far found the birther suggestion of Harris as “interesting,” perhaps worthy of investigation. Apparently, he skipped over the 14th Amendment of the Constitution he swore to uphold—an Amendment that grants citizenship to those born in the United States, regardless of the ancestry of their parents. Considering his feeble-minded mapping of Alabama, he might not know that Oakland is, in fact, part of the U.S.A.

Of course, certain right-wing evangelicals have chimed in to revive the 19th Century belief that women don’t belong anywhere but in the kitchen, preferably barefoot and with child.

The ties to the evangelical movement which has taken on decidedly political stances that find Trump to be some kind of heaven-sent gift from what I can only imagine must be a very forgiving God, is disturbing, yet somewhat comical.

The tent-show revivalists—now, of course, ensconced in palatial cathedrals where congregants have to pay a cover charge and a two-communion-drink minimum—were the first to demand that the economy be re-opened so believers could practice their beliefs. Why the practice of one’s faith is an exclusively indoor activity is beyond my understanding. Might it have something to do with all that tax-free money?

Money, of course, is what drove and defined Jim Bakker’s faith. Before his criminal downfall, sex scandal and subsequent incarceration for fraud, his “PTL Club” was bringing in a million dollars a week. Once released from prison, he picked up where he left off, starting a new church, launching a new television show, and promoting survival products and snake oil remedies for COVID-19.

Other televangelists have spewed their venom over the pandemic by suggesting that the whole thing is the devil’s doing and that if you send in enough money you’ll be saved. Or, in the words of one of those charlatans, it’s a choice of either living for Jesus or dying for Jesus. By my reckoning, in either case you will probably need a ventilator.

There is always the chance that odd coincidences may be mistaken for miracles. This, I believe, is the science behind Miracle Spring Water that is being hawked by the Peter Popoff Ministries. (For the record, nobody is named Peter Popoff.) Citing a vaguely innocuous passage from the Amplified Bible, which, I assume is just a louder version of other Bibles, Popoff promises a Biblical Point of Contact that will ensure good health and good fortune, especially in the area of debt cancellation.

There’s also a warning not to ingest the Miracle Spring Water.

This leads me to believe that you just set a container of the stuff on a shelf and hope for the best, until the time of the Rapture which will send evangelicals in an upward spiral to heaven. For the rest of us, it will just make finding a parking space easier.

One of the more interesting testaments to the value of this was from a woman who had two loans paid off, and got a new refrigerator and a king-size bed. Popoff credits God with wanting all of us to have new homes and automobiles, which Miracle Spring Water will help God facilitate the process.

Why these people aren’t in jail is the biggest miracle of all.

But I have to think that Rick Wiles is the biggest whack-job of the entire evangelical bunch.

I’ve long wondered why people would choose to eat only meatless foods. Seems faintly ridiculous, but that’s their business and not mine. So be it.

Wiles, a so-called Christian with a television ministry, is warning people that if you don’t eat meat, your DNA structure will be altered enough to render you no longer human. And if you aren’t a human, you can’t be saved by Christ, who, it should be noted, didn’t eat pork or shellfish in accordance with Judaic law.

So whatever you do, resist the urge to fall into the clutches of Lucifer and don’t eat the Impossible Burger.

But if you must, wash it down with some Miracle Spring Water.

Photo montage by Courtney A. Liska

Melon Soup

There are few summertime meals that beat a melon soup, served with a platter of fresh cheese, lettuces, and tomatoes. The soup, for which any melon will do, plays the role of first course and aperitif, as the alcohol is not cooked off.

3 c. water
1 c. sugar
6# melon flesh
2 c. white wine or Prosecco
Juice of 2 large lemons, strained
1 c. heavy cream
3-4 Tbs. fresh mint

Combine water and sugar in a saucepan and bring to simmer. When sugar is dissolved, simmer for 3-4 minutes; allow to cool. Puree melon, stir in wine and add syrup gradually. Add lemon juice. Chill.
Add mint to cream, along with a little sugar, and whisk until barely thick. Dollop as garnish.