Ambush

I've just come back from a whirlwind trip to the US. I was deep in the South – you can still smell the gunpowder lingering in the air from the Civil War and garden trees are often decorated with lynch rope. It's a great place to be. A great place to spin your missionary tales to a really gullible bunch of God-fearing, communist-hating, patriot-flag-waving people.

I was spending the weekend with a group of saintly aged folk who are more than happy to part with their dollars to aid my cause of converting the heathen masses to the Christian way of dress, sex and general behaviour. And to replenish my supply of paintballs.

But I was ambushed. It was a lot like having your nads bitten by a baby croc hiding in your toilet bowl while you're attending to your morning ablutions.

I've mentioned those pesky documents doing their rounds, accusing me of all sorts of evil behaviour, like embellishing details of my military history and sexually harassing a few women. So what if I exaggerate a little about my military accomplishments ... I mean, it's not like Jesus didn't use hyperbole to great effect. Have you actually seen Christians lop off their hands after they pinched the waitress on her cheeky bottom ... or pluck their eyes out after they snuck a peek of a bare boob? But please understand, I'm not saying that evangelical leader who opposed gay marriage but was buying drugs from a male prostitute should be let off the hook ... if it was a female prostitute, I'd have more sympathy for the guy.

So there I am, addressing a group of retired Christian folk, using my tried-and-tested but often challenged stories of gung-ho military adventures, when this wrinkled prune of a woman stands up in the middle of my presentation, and calls me a liar. She also has the audacity to call me a child abuser – all because I paintballed a few kids on Halloween. Like I said, it felt like a baby croc was hanging onto my genitalia.

But I have not likened myself to Chuck Norris in previous blogs for nothing. Just like I could shake my balls loose from the grip of a croc without much damage to my manhood, I easily shook myself loose from this geriatric's absurd rant about my supposedly fictitious and abusive missionary work. I quoted a tirade of biblical verses about not challenging the anointed servants of God. It also helped to have the pastor on my side – I had given him a special custom-made paintball gun before the meeting, engraved with the words I Aim to Please Jesus. The ranting old duck was swiftly ushered outside and I completed my presentation without further rude interruptions. The offering was especially rewarding after that visual demonstration of how God's faithful soldiers are persecuted, even by so-called Christian folk.

Fight the good fight.

Punk'd

I was interviewed by a radio station long distance from the States over the weekend. Or so I thought ... turns out I was hoodwinked by a young punk impersonating a rightwing radio personality. I'm not proud of the fact that I was deceived by this infidel (who will be publicly executed when I become world ruler), but I've published a few extracts below to document how the righteous are mocked incessantly by infidels ...

Are you really a medical doctor? I see that you add this title before your name ...

No, I have a doctorate in missiology, but I know where to aim my paintballs to inflict the most possible pain in a human being. As you know, my brother, in America you can buy anything, including your educational qualifications. So I found one of the most fundamentalist Christian Bible colleges in the South to read my lengthy thesis on the work of white fundamentalist missionaries – conversion under threat of death, Western clothing to cover heathen nakedness, missionary position-only sex education, how to work in a white man's garden, that sort of thing. They gave me a doctorate in about as much time as it took to read my thesis.

This thesis must be fascinating ... does it include details of your gun running to the Sudan?

Umm, I'm not sure what you mean by gun running, my brother .... I have delivered millions of Bibles to persecuted Christians. And yes, I'm always armed to the teeth when I travel through Africa ... but that doesn't translate into gun running. If I've ever handed over a gun with a Bible (or buried beneath the cargo of Bibles and cheap genetically modified food dumped on Africa), it's been a gift out of the kindness of my heart. Missionaries often take gifts of Western clothing and medicine when spreading the gospel ... why not guns?

So you're not denying these claims of gun running ...?

I do not deny my love for guns and my reliance on them and my lobbying for the right of Christians to defend themselves against infidels by force of arms ... if I'm going to run around Africa, I'm going to carry a few guns with me. That's my definition of gun running ...

Fair enough ... So, Dr Pete, have you ever shot someone ...? I don't mean with a paintball. I mean with a real bullet ...

If you've ever taken a hit at close range with a frozen paintball dipped in battery acid, you'd not suggest that it were not a *real* bullet. My Sudanese convert garden boy will testify to this ... and so will those trick-or-treaters. But it's not really appropriate for me to disclose any military actions I've taken while doing missionary work ... but if I had to discharge a shotgun blast into some ungodly person's sorry ass, or even one of those liberal Christians, I'd happily do it.

You teach converts that God intends sex to —

Commands!

Sorry – commands – sex to be enjoyed within a committed heterosexual marriage only and that the only position permissable is the traditional missionary position. Have you tried any other positions with your wife ... or with anyone else, such as Liberty, for instance?

No ... WHAT??!! How dare you insinuate that I am homosexual, you little f**kwit .... I have only ever had sex with my virgin wife and I may have tried a few variations of the missionary position but only because those prostitutes were up for it and you are treading on thin ice, even if you are on the other side of the ocean .... homosexuality is an abomination in the sight of God .... I have fantasised about many, many different women and mentally explored every sexual position possible, but never in my wildest dreams would I ever – EVER – think of having disgusting anal sex with another man, let alone a smelly heathen convert to Christianity who was created to work in my garden ....

[Laughter in the studio ...] Doctor Pete, have you ever heard the term, 'You've been punk'd...?' This is Thabo from the States ... The Free State. You've been punk'd on Radio Fuck The Fundamentalists ... or as we prefer to say, you've been proper fucked!

I cannot repeat what I said to Thabo from the Free State. But I've now destroyed the second cellphone in a few days and exhausted every biblical curse known to fundamentalists. This, my friends, is how the righteous are being mocked in this apostate world ... I declare a jihad against all those who insult the anointed servants of Jesus Christ and will be sending out recruitment documents shortly.

Fight the good fight.

Krokodil Resurrection

I spent most of yesterday in mourning after learning that the great Krokodil has croaked. PW Botha was a great man who should never have lost power to that sell-out FW de Klerk who released that commie Nelson Mandela from prison and drove our once God-fearing land into utter secular humanist darkness.

Everyone who knows anything knows that PW Botha was a great politician who stood on the broad shoulders of the Voortrekkers and Boer commandos, who showed both the native black savages and the Nancy-boy Brits that the Bible and the bullet are lethal soul mates. So he supposedly has gone to his grave with a whole lot of secrets about his apartheid reign. Liberals are all pissed off because he refused to testify before the Truth and Reconciliation commission. Good for him. That commission should have been called the Torture and Rape commission – torturing good citizens like me who fought communism by raping us with details about how we enforced apartheid. The Krokodil was too great a man to be tortured and raped by liberal commie sympathisers in his old age.

Rest in peace, PW Botha. I always understood that you had the best interests of this country at heart by insisting the black man knows his place and the rest of the world mind their own business. I'm praying that you will be raised from the grave and appear one last time in the once hallowed halls of Parliament, wearing your trademark National Party hat and wagging your finger in the face of this God-hating liberal government who have ruined your good work. I also pledge to restore your political vision to this land when I'm made President.

Fight the good fight.

Osama Does Halloween

I hate towel-heads. But I respect them. Any religion that sanctions conversion under threat of death has to garner at least some respect. After last year’s botched paintball mission to teach those little devil kids that they should not be worshiping Satan in my community, I was simply not going to risk jail time this Halloween by driving around in my own car paintballing kids. I needed a disguise.

Sympathetic readers of my blog suggested that I send Liberty out to do my dirty work and be the fall guy if the paintballs hit the fan. I was grateful for the suggestion and wouldn’t normally mind sacrificing my Sudanese convert garden boy for the sake of the gospel, but that would take all the fun out of Halloween. I’m not like those military generals who watch the action from way behind the frontlines – I want to taste the action for myself, to see evildoers get a taste of hell. At the very least, I want them to get smacked in the chops with a frozen paintball and taste the righteous indignation of Paintball Pete.

So to come back to my respect for towel-heads and my need for a disguise … you’ll remember that I scared the bejesus out of Muslims to celebrate 9/11. The last thing those Muhammeds saw was a mad fellow-Muslim racing away from the scene of the crime. You got it … that was me. I still had the Osama look-alike outfit at home in my secret bunker, so last night when the darkness of hell crept in, I hotwired a car in my street and drove around looking for trick-or-treaters to paintball, dressed like a mad Muslim fundamentalist terrorist.

I spent a few hours committing glorious drive-by paintball attacks, teaching the occult followers that their way will lead to eternal destruction and that my way leads to eternal life with God, Jesus, the good angels and all those who have lived the Christian life like me.

The papers this morning report that a copy-cat paintball terrorist has been on the loose, and that he resembles Osama Bin Laden. I even had one cocky reporter call me to quiz me about my possible links to Al Qaeda. I told him where he could stick a paintball in no uncertain terms, then I pronounced an explicit biblical curse that I can’t repeat here and slammed the phone down on him. I need a new cell phone, by the way.

So there you have it. I keep to my word. Halloween is a demonic celebration of the devil’s birthday. The only gift I’m ever going to give Lucifer is a frozen paintball up his horny ass – and one for each of his followers. I have no doubt that both military and church history will record yesterday’s resounding paintball mission as a dual victory. The treat part is that I taught kids not to dress up like demons and celebrate evil, and the trick bit is that I made sure Muslims pick up the tab. Someone who looks like Osama is going to be gang-raped in Pollsmoor when the cops catch him.

Fight the good fight.