Humor

Thinking about 'God Made Trump,' with 'Hemingway -- Mark Hemingway'

Thinking about 'God Made Trump,' with 'Hemingway -- Mark Hemingway'

Editor’s note: While preparing for this week’s podcast (“Carefully entering the hall of mirrors created by the 'God Made Trump' video”) I emailed a former GetReligionista who is way smarter than me about the Byzantine Beltway world. That would be “Mark — Mark Hemingway.” If you get that reference, you know that @Heminator knows a few things about mass-media satire. Here is his response, with slight editing.

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I haven't seen anything that establishes it's satire; but it's so over the top I also can't imagine anyone took it seriously.

I would only note that there's a very, very fine line for the "meme magic" online right between satire and stuff calculated to "trigger the libs." Basically, if the left is outraged by something, the idea is that they're going to lean so hard into it so as to make the issue pervasive enough that the criticism for doing what is unacceptable loses its sting.

Why? Because the left holds tremendous cultural power in setting the boundaries for what is acceptable and unacceptable discourse. That was always a power that the left abused by applying double standards and political correctness to their advantage; but it was mostly done around the margins because of a general consensus on the First Amendment as an important value. 

However, in the last decade or so with critical theory/wokism/cancel culture finally obtaining some sort of critical mass in among institutional leadership that the First Amendment consensus is really no more, at least among a lot of cultural gatekeepers, and they've just been moving the goalposts randomly as it suits their purposes.


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Podcast: Carefully entering the hall of mirrors created by the 'God Made Trump' video

Podcast: Carefully entering the hall of mirrors created by the 'God Made Trump' video

I will not apologize for the fact that this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (CLICK HERE to tune that in) contains lots of questions and few answers.

In a way, the whole “God Made Trump” video ruckus is a house of mirrors full of questions.

Nevertheless, you cannot follow what Americans call “politics” without pondering the role that religious language is playing these days. At the same time, it’s impossible to ignore the role of humor — including brutal satire — in all of this. Put religion and humor together (with a dash of AI) and all hades breaks loose.

The New York Times offered a straight-faced news story about a trend that is a threat to democracy when used by conservatives and, in particular, the MAGA Orange Man Bad team. What about the satire on the other side, which is usually offered by billion-dollar platforms in mainstream media and late-night entertainment? That isn’t relevant. Meanwhile, here’s that double-decker Times headline:

Iowa Pastors Say Video Depicting Trump as Godly Is ‘Very Concerning’

The viral video shows the former president, in starkly religious, almost messianic tones, as the vessel of a higher power sent to save the nation.

The big question here that the Times team never asks: To what degree is the “God Made Trump” video satire or a wink-wink salute to a certain tribe of Trump supporters in some pews? Hold that thought, because asking that question leads to those hall-of-mirrors questions.

This Times piece is all serious all the time. Here is a key byte of that:

The clip’s authors are members of the Dilley Meme Team, an organized collective of video producers who call themselves “Trump’s Online War Machine.” The group’s leader, Brenden Dilley, describes himself as Christian and a man of faith, but says he has never read the Bible and does not attend church. He has said that Mr. Trump has “God-tier genetics” and, in response to outcry over the “God Made Trump” video, he posted a meme depicting Mr. Trump as Moses parting the Red Sea.


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Norman Lear: An iconic mass-media seeker who evolved past secularism

Norman Lear: An iconic mass-media seeker who evolved past secularism

Early in the premier of Norman Lear's sit-com "Sunday Dinner," the beautiful environmentalist T.T. Fagori raised her eyes to heaven and, with a sigh, entered a spiritual minefield.

"Chief?", she asked God. "You got a minute?"

In addition to praying out loud in prime time, this character offered a theological reverie at dinner while meeting the family of her fiancé, a 56-year-old widower nearly three decades her elder. The problem: His granddaughter heard Fagori mention God during a science lecture.

"You see, I talk about extending 'love thy neighbor' to include animals, plants, stuff like that. I say that the natural world is the largest sacred community to which we all belong," Fagori explained. "I talk about cosmic piety because the same atoms that form the galaxies are in all of us and it's the universe that carries the deep mysteries of our existence within itself.

"You see how all that sounds pretty spiritual. … So, when the kids hear me say these things, some of them think they hear the word 'God,' but they don't. I don't actually mention it. Interesting, huh?"

This 1991 comedy flopped, but it was an important statement from Lear, whose December 5 death at 101 years of age closed his career as lightning rod in popular culture and politics.

For decades, Lear described himself as a cultural Jew who didn't practice any traditional form of faith. He also founded People for the American Way, an old-school liberal advocacy group on church-state issues. But this television icon became more and more intrigued with religious faith, both as a force in American life and as a topic ignored by Hollywood.


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Modern world knows how to hoard lots of 'stuff,' but struggles with the higher virtues

Modern world knows how to hoard lots of 'stuff,' but struggles with the higher virtues

Quoting Alexander Solzhenitsyn is not a typical cold open for an edgy Jewish comedian.

But the Russian-British Konstantin Kisin -- a self-avowed "politically non-binary satirist" -- wasn't joking during his recent speech to the Alliance for Responsible Citizenship in London's O2 Arena. He was describing what he sees as immediate threats to liberal Western culture.

Solzhenitsyn, who wrote "The Gulag Archipelago," noted: "The strength or weakness of a society depends more on the level of its spiritual life than on its level of industrialization. … If a nation's spiritual energies have been exhausted, it will not be saved from collapse by the most perfect government structure or by any industrial development. A tree with a rotten core cannot stand."

That quote came to mind, said Kisin, while watching throngs around the world celebrate the Oct. 7 raids on civilian populations in Israel.

"I am starting to lose faith. I don't know how long our civilization will survive. For years now, many of us have been warning that the barbarians are at the gates. We were wrong. They're inside," said Kisin, who offered serious commentary and dark humor. "I'm not going to be all doom and gloom. There are positives as well. Say what you want about Hamas supporters, at least they know what a woman is."

The ARC co-founders -- British Baroness Philippa Claire Stroud and Canadian psychologist Jordan Peterson -- urged the authors, business leaders, artists, scientists and others who spoke during the three-day gathering to focus on a positive vision of public life.

Thus, ARC circulated questions such as, "Can we find a unifying story that will guide us as we make our way forward?" and "How do we facilitate the development of a responsible and educated citizenry?" But, in a pre-conference paper, Peterson and the Canadian iconographer and YouTube maven Jonathan Pageau noted that future progress will require dealing with the past.


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Upon Friar Review -- Looking for spiritual questions in the wilds of pop culture

Upon Friar Review -- Looking for spiritual questions in the wilds of pop culture

During the 1990s, legions of kids could quote chapter and verse from the "X-Files" adventures of FBI special agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.

Scully was the skeptic who put her faith in science, while Mulder plunged head-first into the supernatural. But in one case, Scully experienced mysterious visions that helped her save a life. Stunned, she returned to church. Confessing to a priest, she asked why she witnessed a miracle, but her partner did not.

Maybe, the priest said, God was only speaking to her. "With the Lord, anything is possible. Perhaps you saw these things because you needed to. … Why does that surprise you?"

Scully answered: "Mostly it just makes me afraid. … Afraid that God is speaking, but that no one is listening."

Father Casey Cole grew up in that era. While he wasn't an "X-Files" fan, many of his friends were, hooked by the show's mantra, "The truth is out there." Thus, this confession scene has become one of many video clips he uses as chaplain at three schools in Macon, Georgia.

When exploring pop culture, the young Franciscan friar is looking for good questions -- the kinds of questions he thinks the church needs to hear.

That's easier with some forms of entertainment than others. It's possible for savvy pastors, youth leaders and teachers to respond to high-quality movies and television programs, especially those that address spiritual issues, said Cole, describing the approach used in the "Upon Friar Review" videos he makes with Father Patrick Tuttle of Holy Spirit Catholic Church in Macon.

Then there are "times when Father Patrick closes his eyes and says, 'This is awful.' … There are times when I want to say, 'This is the worst thing ever.' But when we're at our best, we can say, 'Let's take a step back and let's analyze this. What question is being asked here? …

"These things ask important questions, and maybe questions the church seems unwilling or unable to answer. Well, we need to be the ones t


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Memory eternal for Marius Aurelius Spartanicus, the priest's dog

Memory eternal for Marius Aurelius Spartanicus, the priest's dog

Catholic priests are not used to hearing penitents laughing while lined up for confession.

When Father Joseph Krupp peered out of the booth one day, he saw that his broad-chested, 72-pound Boxer was in a chair and, when the line moved, the dog took the next chair.

Everyone knew this hound had sins to confess, after raiding wedding receptions, opening church fridges and, on one occasion, scarfing down a three-pound roast. Krupp laughs when describing how the latest of his rescue dogs "absolutely murdered" a rabbit -- next to a statue of St. Francis of Assisi, patron saint of all creatures great and small.

The priest said he has intentionally adopted old dogs, hoping to "give them a few happy years. … I always thought that I was trying to heal the dogs. This time, God sent the dog to heal me."

This canine parable began during a tough stretch of the priest's work in a number of Michigan parishes. Krupp has served as chaplain for the Michigan State University football team, led the university Catholic campus ministry and now supervises the state's Northeastern deanery, with 12 parishes and four schools.

The priest went to the Hillsdale Humane Society eight years ago to donate a bed, toys and food after his latest dog died. Then he saw a battered, "broken-hearted" Boxer no one wanted.

"He was found tied to a tree, along with another dog. The other dog had died of starvation, and he was close to it. He had been shot with numerous pellets, his tail was broken, and a lot of his teeth were missing," wrote Krupp, to his many @JoeInBlack readers on X (formerly Twitter).

The dog was hours from death, but shelter workers saved him.

As Krupp arrived, a former student "sent me a message. She told me she was praying for me, and God told her that He was going to give me a remarkable gift that day. I walked in just as they were walking a dog out," he wrote. "He lifted his head, saw me and ran at me so hard and fast that the leash came out of the volunteer's hand. I sat on the floor, and he jumped on me, licking me and pushing me to the ground. I just couldn't quit laughing."


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Boring sermons happen and savvy preachers need to spot what is going wrong

Boring sermons happen and savvy preachers need to spot what is going wrong

Kids do say the darndest things, and with decades of pulpit experience, the Rev. Joe McKeever has learned that these revelatory remarks often happen just after church.

In one case, a parent shared a question from a perplexed child who struggled with a complex McKeever sermon. Thus, the 7-year-old asked: "Why does Pastor Joe think we need this information?"

That's blunt. But not as blunt as what happened to a friend, as McKeever recounted in a recent essay: "Boring sermons: We all have them from time to time."

This pastor said a family from his church attended a Friday football game, and during halftime, their preschooler asked why students chanted "BORING!" at the visiting marching band. "Her mother explained that sometimes students will do that when they feel the other band is doing poor work," wrote McKeever. The mother added: "It tells them they stink."

The child remembered this and shouted "BORING!" during the next Sunday sermon.

Pastors need honest feedback from time to time, stressed the 83-year-old McKeever, who -- in addition to decades in various kinds of Southern Baptist ministry -- was for 20 years an active member of the National Cartoonists Society.

"One of the problems with being a pastor is that we rarely hear anyone else preach," he said, reached by telephone. "We do what we do in the pulpit, over and over, and it's easy to lose any sense of standards.

"Many preachers lose the ability to listen to themselves. … They end up telling people things that they don't need, things that they didn't want, that they don't understand and, worst of all, that they don't find inspiring."


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Thinking, with The Free Press, about what Brooklyn folks don't 'get' about Iowa

Thinking, with The Free Press, about what Brooklyn folks don't 'get' about Iowa

Let’s do something different with a “think piece” this week.

What we’re going to do is watch a short video and then, hopefully, GetReligion readers can leave a few comments about what they saw or, more importantly, what they didn’t see.

The video itself comes from those savvy urbanites at the must-follow website/Substack feed called The Free Press. What’s going on in this light-hearted, chatty, laugh-to-keep-from-crying offering? The goal was summed up in this epic double-decker headline:

Pork Chops! Politics! The Free Press Goes to the Iowa State Fair. …

Brooklynite Ben Kawaller dives headfirst into livestock, fried food, and the great political divide at America’s annual country circus.

Kawaller states, right up front, that he knows a lot more about musical theater than he does agrarian life (and, needless to say, hip eateries in and around Park Slope don’t serve deep-friend Oreos). So why would he want to spend a week hobnobbing with Iowa farmers?

Read the headline again.

We’re talking politics and the Iowa primaries, of course. Thus, Kawaller offered this online confessional:

Along with showcasing some of the state’s most impressive agriculture, the fair has, since the 1970s, become a de rigueur campaign stop for political candidates. Over the course of this year’s fair, which runs until Sunday, August 20, no fewer than sixteen presidential hopefuls have appeared or are expected to. My visit coincided with some big ones: Florida governor Ron DeSantis was there on Saturday, only to be upstaged by Donald Trump, who also may have arranged for the flight of an aerial banner urging “Be likable, Ron!” (You have to hand it to him: the man knows how to taunt.) 


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News coverage of Los Angeles Dodgers drag-nuns story reveals plenty of bad habits

News coverage of Los Angeles Dodgers drag-nuns story reveals plenty of bad habits

Sports have always brought people together. That’s a big reason that they have been so popular for decades.

But in our ever-polarized world around political lines, sports have taken a hit. Whether it involved NFL players taking a knee during the national anthem or NBA players supporting Black Lives Matter, sports and sports journalism have become increasingly political the last few years.

Baseball, and specifically the Los Angeles Dodgers, became the focus of controversy over the last two weeks when the team invited, then un-invited and then issued a welcome once again a group known as the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, a well-known San Francisco group of queer and trans people dressed as nuns at the team’s annual Pride Night on June 16.

As many noted, there’s no way a sports franchise would have given this kind of salute to a group of traditional Catholics opposed by cultural progressives, a group like the Little Sisters of the Poor.

What took place during this entire saga is a series of predictable news-media coverage twists and turns guided by professionals who, it appears, saw this issue from their own left-right vantage points. Modern journalism is often criticized for building narratives and reading minds rather than reporting facts and interviewing both sides. This story fit that mold.

While the news coverage lacked voices from both sides in this debate, most of the reports also lacked another very important term — anti-Catholic.

Are these “nuns” anti-Catholic? It certainly depends on which side of this debate you are on and many news outlets made that clear and, thus, ignored citizens whose views were found to be heretical, in terms of current newsroom dogmas.

Take, for example, the Los Angeles Times feature that ran on May 25 that included a photo shoot with the “nuns.” Here’s how that piece opened:

Ask the L.A. Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence why they decided to join the order of drag nuns, and most of them will tell you it’s because they felt the call.

Sister Tootie Toot (glitter green lips, dark beard, emerald cocktail dress) felt it like a ton of bricks when she walked into a leather bar where several sisters had assembled.


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