Pat Robertson, The Merchant of Venice? No, à la Ken Lay, Merchant of Virginia

Prosperous, Those Televangelists. Christian? Doubtful.
Subjects of The Lord? The Lord Dollar, yes, the Lord God, any God? Indisputably, no. Exquisite torture to our ears, the unctuous, undertaker's whiny voice of mincing Pat Robertson. However, may all glory be shed on him who is wise enough to fool millions of the extreme religious right; they have gotten what they deserve: a multimillionaire shyster who scams even the senior citizens of the country as sinisterly as Ken Lay bilked investors in Enron. Bernie Ebbers and the like? Truly slimy Jack Abramoff? Slippery Tom DeLay? Mere children in comparison; innocents, in comparison. For truly evil, there is one glorious, shining, mincing whiny-voiced spawn of the devil himself.

Wow. Can a so-called voice of the faithful be scummier than Tom DeLay? You betcha! He makes a mockery of that passage from Timothy 6:10 "For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, for which some have strayed from the faith in their greediness."

 

Hmmm. Right at this point, after Elizabeth pointed these things out to us, before divulging some really damning facts about dear old Pat, she helped her husband Schuyler prepare Salty Dogs for us. Iffy drink for those with high blood pressure because of the salt on the rim of the highball glasses and the grapefruit juice which interferes with some medications. A friend in Texas sent Schuyler and Elizabeth a couple of bottles of Tito's Handmade Vodka. Vodka from Texas? As a matter of fact, a prize winning vodka.

Elizabeth said, about Pat Robertson's voice, that he really did sound like an undertaker pretending to "feel your loss; now here's a slightly better and more expensive casket, but you won't regret it."

 

In the annals of snake oil salesmen, it appears there is nobody lower than this fescennine caricature of a man, who, if all goes well and is one day imprisoned for gross malfeasance, will one day make a nice handmaiden for a grotesquely sadistic prison cellmate; after all, even cellmates deserve ill-gotten gains, or so might have said Billy Graham, n'est-ce pas? Not a bad fate, considering that he has defrauded not only God, but the entire idea of religion and millions of poor, ignorant people who despite example after example after example, have not learned that all "church" people who make piles of money are dishonest. At least, Terry said, people like Rush Limbaugh and Bill O'Reilly don't go around calling themselves "reverend."

 

Avaricious, Covetous, Mercenary, Rapacious "Reverend" Pat Robertson
Well, why all the venom on our part? Simple. We find it revolting that "a (pseudo) man of the cloth" should be more reverential to the Dollar than to God. He has founded, and makes money from: the American Center for Law and Justice, the Flying Hospital, International Family Entertainment, Operation Blessing International Relief and Development Corporation (with and emphasis on the 'corporation') and Regent University. He is the "host" (read money-reaper) of the 700 Club and is a very wealthy man, with an estimated net worth of 140 million.

 

He lives in a huge mansion on a mountain in Virginia, and owns the Ice Capades, so though he professes to hate gays, I guess the boys that skate for him in the Ice Capades are o.k. gays as long as they bring in the bucks. Funny, isn't it, how somebody who supposedly works on only non-profit causes can amass that kind of obscene wealth? Well, what isn't funny is how he has scammed his way to greater wealth with his worthless (to his suckers) American BenefitsPlus/Kalo Vita, a multi-level marketing scheme on the order of Amway and Avon in which scores of elderly have lost thousands. And, oh, you did know that Robertson was a crony of brutal dictator (now-deceased) of Congo Mobuto Sese Seko, partnering in diamond mines. My, how devout. Must make his Lord proud. I know that Bubba and Bubbette think Pat Robertson can walk on water.

 

Liz, Sweet Liz and Her On-the-Mark Quotes
British journalist Katherine Whitehorn wrote in 'The Observer' in 1979 something that Liz thinks holds especially true today, and especially when you think of Shyster Robertson: "Why do born-again people so often make you wish they'd never been born the first time?" As some say, Hallelujah!

 

Marie Christine and Jean-Paul Prepare Dinner
The teenagers had their fireplace in the great room, where they eat, and we had ours going in the dining room, but the real glow would come from this couple's amazing cooking skills. They are amazing horse-breeders and trainers, and superb cooks.

 

For the first course, they served us Shellfish Gratinéed in Scallop Shells. They made them with medium-sized mussels, littleneck clams and shrimp, spiced with shallots, Dijon mustard, bay leaves and thyme. The bread crumbs were perfectly golden brown and the presentation was flawless. They chose a sparkling wine from the Spanish winery Codorníu, a Pinot Noir Cava Brut. Not only is it a great value sparkling wine, but its Pinot Noir grapes makes this wine, with a light salmon color, have a ripe plum nose, followed by dry, harmonious, crisp tart strawberry notes with a hint of lemon on the finish.

 

Our next course was Cremini and Portobello Mushrooms and Tarragon Soup. Marie Christine and Jean-Paul used a good sherry in the making of the soup, and accompanied it with small sherry glasses of a good Lustau sherry, "Jarana," which is a light fino sherry, light and dry, with pecan and brazil nut aromas.

 

They wanted us to try a similar but yet somewhat different sherry as long as the sherry glasses were on the table, so they prepared a very simple but perfect dish, Giant Prawns in Sherry, served on a bed of wild rice. Cooked with sherry, they served another Lustau delight, their "Solera Reserva" Puerto Fino sherry. It also has a nutty aroma, but this time the aroma is of walnuts and has a touch of brine that made it a perfect match for the shrimp. This sherry, also, is a bit weightier than the Jarana.

For a very French flavor, since Marie Christine and Jean-Paul are French, after all, they prepared Trout Poached in Champagne (well, sparkling wine.) Prepared with clam juice, celery, onions and bay leaves, the trout was magnificent. Plated with simple garlicky roasted new potatoes and the tenderest of asparagus, they naturally poured us an excellent Schramsberg Vineyards full-bodied Blanc de Blancs.

We had small dollops of cantaloupe sorbet to change into a meat course palate, waiting anxiously to see what this couple of magnificent chefs would serve us next. They managed to keep all the adults seated at the table and had engaged a few of the teenagers to help them with last minute preparations and plating for the meat course.

 

Marie Christine and Jean-Paul thought some of the flavors in their next course would remind some of our new neighbors a bit of home cooked meals back in the Middle East, and generously prepared a dish that wasn't too French, Individual Lamb, Eggplant, Zucchini and Tomato Tartlets, (Tourtières d'Agneau aux Aubergines, Courgettes, et Tomates.) The spices, cumin, curry, thyme and black pepper were incredibly delicious, but did call for a good, strong wine. So, strong is what we got! From the Southern Rhône region of France, they poured us a Gigondas. This wine is sometimes referred to as "black-hearted, with a lot of tannins, and quite alcoholic." Nevertheless, it did pair perfectly with the spicy Lamb Tartlets.

 

End of a Glorious Meal
For dessert we were served simple, perfect, sublime Vanilla Madeleines, which we shared with the teenagers. Max prepared our after-dinner coffee, a task he enjoys because it gives him a chance to blend his "secret blends" and surprise us. Right before leaving, with the theme of charlatan Pat Robertson still on our minds, Liz gave us this to think about:

 

"As I grew up I got cynical. I'd see Mother enthusiastic and involved with charlatans. Numerologists and astrologists who charged five hundred dollars for a 'reading' which was so vague you could twist the meaning any way you wanted. "
Anya Seton

 

A charlatan, Liz said, that only a Republican would hold up as the gold standard for "men of the cloth."

 

Summary
Über-rich and getting more so by the minute, smarmy televangelist and Republican darling Pat Robertson continues to spew garbage, and in so doing, continues to laugh all the way to his bulging bank. Republican Bubbas and Bubettes think he can walk on water, so you know what side of the aisle you want to walk on.

©Copyright 2005 Grindstaff Chronicles. All Rights Reserved.
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Reprinted from The Grindstaff Chronicles Newsletter which is published in the USA by farmers, ranchers, and neighbors.

It is intended to share the thoughts and lifestyle of people who work hard, like to relax and enjoy life, and are often dismayed by news, politics, and the events of the day that defy common sense.
http://www.GrindstaffChronicles.com
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