Wednesday, December 12, 2007

God Patrol

First off:
sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry. I don't even know why I'd neglected this blog for so long; mostly computer drama, school, stuff of that nature.

'Neway, this tract is about those evil negroes your grandparents warned you about. Also, gang violence, and how police departments in Chickville go only with the Lawd. This reminds me of Dog the Bounty Hunter (something most people would rather be burned alive than be reminded of; ugh) and his "go with Christ" thing. Here goes, and I promise I'll try to start updating this more regularly.

♪ STOP! In the name of looooove, before you break my heart..... ♪

Okay, spoiler: this tract is about a latex glove full of mashed potatoes and twigs that fights pirates in glowing boxes. Naw, that's too imaginative for something like a Chick tract. But it is very, very cool that the hand has a muscley little arm coming off it that looks eager to knife fight.

"Hey, Carter! I found me a skeevy little meth-addict-like. Says he don't know why they call them fingers, since they don't fing."
God, look at that carnage! Heavy gunfire apparently leaves you looking like prim, freshly-cased sausage links. But if you're lucky, the roughly half-inch of plywood in the door will save you from semiautomatic bullets.

"I was coming up the stairs and... WOW you're tall. Like, you're really tall, man. Like a pine tree..... " *goes catatonic for three hours*

Yeah, most druggies will respond honestly and politely when a hydrocephalic behemoth cop that may not be real appears. Speaking of distraction, there is something very wrong with what the cop in the background is doing to that... body? Sofa cushion? ... Bible?


Aww. Gravity prevails; Gargantuan Cop's arm just slid out of its socket.

.. Um, wow, that has got to be the worst segue in the history of humanity. Nay, the history of Chick tracts.
"These guys are in HELL.... because they didn't accept Jesus. Not the drugs or anything. They're in body bags/waterbeds now, out of sight out of mind, right?"

"Dammin' evryone ta HAYULL" isn't really the best way to get converts, I think. And Gargantuan Cop is growing and--- wait, I just noticed this, they're in front of a one story house. As in, no stairs to come up. Goddamnit Jack Chick, if you're going to go through the trouble of shitting these comics out, at least make sure they're plausable. I mean, not that fundamentalism is the most rational thing in the world, but please, please stop mocking what little intelligence the people in your slice of Christianity have.

And here we go. More Godbabble. I'll just sit this one out.

I.... I'd have more to say on the 1980's hip-hop family in the background, but I'm too busy trying to wrap my mind around someone being smart enough to take the Bible literally. That's just.. damn.

Oh hell yes he's going to laugh it off; anyone born within the past few centuries understands that
a) Scientifically, the literality of the Bible is impossible and
b) symbolism is also a potent medium for getting messages across.
However, I've noticed that ALL of Chick's tracts feature grandparents/old people doing all the indoctrination, presumably because it was a simpler time back then and wise old relatives provide gentle spiritual advice to a universally-misguided generation. Back in the day, blah blah, polio, segregation, McCarthyism..... I like how he pretends obsolescence is a good thing. Jeez.

He's a "deacon" or whatever, says he goes to something called "church" to "worship" someone named "Jehooly" or "Jahoosus" or something like that.... Seriously, what country are these people in anyway? How do you live in the United States (eveyone knows the US is His chosen country, regardless of whether it existed in the time of Jesus or not) without knowing ANYTHING about Christianity?

....So his grandma's either not dead yet ("... going to heaven"); or admittance to heaven takes a long while ("believed..."...), which contradicts the vast screaming majority of Chick's comics in addition to contradicting itself. Usually people either get judged immediately in the nude, or they rot in the ground a little and then get scooped up by angels, or they don't realize they're dead, or only their head, shoulder and left arm get taken to heaven, or they get raptured, or ..... wow, hey, whadda ya know, Chick is really inconsistent with what happens when you die. He should read up on it in the Bible.... oh wait, that's full of inconsistencies and contradictions too.... whoops. I guess then it's okay with the Bible if Jack plays some Choose Your Own Afterlife Adventure. The worst it could do is sap away some of his credibility (I know I said some; but considering his credibility has stood at -754,543,861,858 since 1965, I don't think he's in the ballpark of rational yet).

And does the druggie's sudden appearance change creep you out too?

Wow, that was fast. Weren't they trying to solve a drug deal murder like three panels ago? I mean, this can't possibly be an effective way of stopping crime. "Hey, uh, you there, guy with the guns and white baggies. Your ass is going to hell." And he returns to his vehicle, smiling smugly, rewarded with the comforting thought that he had brought some peace to the inner city, and goes home.

"I know that place..." Well, good. I'm glad. It's kind of your job to; I can't imagine how long it took them to find the address of the shootout. Half the bodies were probably in the ground when they were rounding the street.

Welcome to Ville, home of the Ville Police Department. Don't they tell you to watch out for unmarked police cars, because they usually have psychotic rapists in them? I mean, just saying.

The same four people, repeating over and over into infinity, are crowding around an unmarked police car in the center of what seems to be Eternity. If that's not mindfucky enough, they're shouting bizarre and outdated anathemas at the car, whose windshield is calling for help.

"There," said Jack Chick, stepping back in his underground bunker to admire his work, "this is what the outside world must be like."

Okay, this "standing tall in the name of the Lawd" is getting absurd. It doesn't surprise me in the least that Chick and Carter baby their readers with oversimplified, painfully literal metaphors, but come on, this is an eight-foot tall cop. Maybe this is some sort of ... I don't know, attempt at anatomy? Perspective, maybe? One can muse forever. Because according to statistics I only have like 64 years left to live, I'll let you all do the musing.

I love these generic cop names. Clancy, Carter...

I've got nothing. Except, perhaps, a genuine concern for that strange lip-creature that's half-hidden with Grandma's word bubble.

"I'm gonna make you disappear and feed you to the dogs!" Does Chick really expect inner-city gang members to actually say things like that? I'd expect more of an, I don't know, "I'll fuck your ass up" or an "Imma shank you, motherfucker"? What century is this? This does nothing to disprove my theory that Jack hasn't seen anyone that isn't white since the 1980s.

Do it, Ice Man!

Wise Buddha say: "Make way for Grandma!" Followed by furious hobbling.

-Rattle rattle- -rattle rattle rattle- "Junior, why on earth is your head shaking so violently like that?" -comical hands-on-hips stance-

Judging by the people around her, I'd say she's about... what, 3'7?

Do you have any idea why threatening law enforcement with a knife is a bad idea? Besides the added quarter-century of assault charges you'll have to do time for? Well, I'll tell you; Grandma will disembowel you and take your lower intestines as a trophy with that knife of yours. At least, that's what it looks like she's doing. Fred Carter's shaky grasp of space won't permit me to decipher this further.

God is a loving god, who will gladly strike anyone down for anything. But God is a wrathful, picky god who will play favorites and gladly murder 7+ people in a bad drug deal, but will save one of his guys.

The... the emphasis... it's just all wrong. ugh.
Junior metamorphoses into a Chow.

Who Grandma? I have no deductive reasoning.

RRRRRrrribbit! Rrrribbit! Deacon Carterrribbit led her and her pimp to Christ.

Mm, so far, we've got drugs, murder, violence, and now prostitution. The only thing missing from this world of evil is a gay guy and a woman with a job. Then I'll take him seriously. Those last few things aren't severe enough.

"*Grandpa". Jesus A', so now he's just making up his own slang and hoping for the best?

... Um, the fuck?
He probably did eat guys like him in prison for breakfast, but you know, in a different sense. And oh no! The eclipse is nigh.

NOOOO! Anyone but White cops! Take all the white cops you want, but for the love of god, not the White cops!

Blam Blam Blam I don't know how a gunshot sounds

Honestly, this is starting to bug me, how many Christians do you know that pray and fast routinely? Mainstream Christianity, usually Protestant, regards this as highly antiquated. It seems more like a Muslim thing to do. But all Muslims are evil. Remember that.

---standard Crucifiction bunk here----

Um, ew?

Jack is getting lazy. He's not even bothering to draw Jesus' flayed, chapped, torn and bleeding skin sliding off his body like he usually does in his 3:16s. Maybe he's finally got over his BSDM fetish.

..... I get it. Gargantuan Cop is a zombie. With a grammar/syntax problem.


(Gasp!) That's the power of desperation, groupthink and a desire not to be in prison!
Something tells me God wouldn't approve of this sob-orgy. Or maybe he would, he loves it when people grovel.

Praise the Lord! Wait, what was this tract about? Right. He was supposed to be answering an 11-99 call. Where's Clancy? Oh, fuck it, who cares.

"Junior, Deacon Carter is more like Jesus than any man I've ever met." But that's blasphemy and you're going to hell. Is he like Jesus in that he gets easily distracted from his job and doesn't actually do what he's supposed to? The simile doesn't stretch much, so I'll assume she's referring to Jesus Garcia, the guy who lives next door to her or something.

You'll be safer working with him than anyone you know because you won't actually go into the line of fire. Instead, you'll just go around troubled neighborhoods converting people.

That's all good and well, but if this tract is any indication (which is like using a cabbage to tell you what the temperature is), our hard-earned taxes go to paying Jehovah's Witnesses in uniforms and fancy cars.