A lawsuit seeking the removal of a Jesus statue near a Montana ski resort will go on after a national group of atheists and agnostics produced a local member who says he is offended by the religious symbol whenever he swooshes down the slopes.
So the foundation found William Cox, an atheist who lives 15 miles from the northwestern Montana resort. Cox submitted a statement that says he frequently goes to Whitefish and has skied many times past the statue, which he considers religious and offensive.
The more I hear of these stories, the more it seems that atheists are not characterized by choosing not to believe in a deity, but are simply pansy-ass, immature, super- senstive whine asses who hate religion, Christianity in particular.
May I suggest those atheists who live in Corpus Christi, Texas to move now. If they choose to stay and have children, then clearly they are culpable of neglect.
Oh, and don't order the clam chowder on Fridays, either.
However, let me add my $.02 as one of them attorney types – I am all for the First Amendment and like it or not, we do not have a constitutional right to not be offended. If that were so, Lady Gaga would be a walking violation. I only wish Glenn Beck had not done this in response to Michael D’Antuono’s “Truth,” not because it stoops to that artist’s level, but because it serves to bring attention to really bad, clichéd, and hackneyed art. Really, casting Obama on a Crucifix? Ooooh . . . fierce And boring as all hell – Dan Lacy, the Painter of Pancakes (not to be confused with Thomas Kinckade, Painter of Commercial Crap, in turn not to be confused with Wiley, Artist Obsessed with Whale Tails and Painter of Equally Commercial Crap) had a more original idea painting an erotically nude Obama atop a unicorn.
The person for whom I really feel sorry is the very fine Jewish writer, Chaim Potok (of blessed memory). Think back to high school, boys and girls, and see if you can remember reading his 1972 book, “My Name is Asher Lev.” The protagonist of the book is a young Hasidic boy who is a prodigy with his talent of painting. The book’s climax occurs when he wants to portray his mother’s suffering, worrying as she did about her only child and her husband’s travels for the Rebbe – sometimes behind the Iron Curtain (the book is set in the 1950’s) – and her grief when her younger brother was killed, also on a mission for the Rebbe. There is no symbolism in his Judaism to portray adequately her sacrifice to her family . . . and so, he paints her in a crucified position, and titles the work, “Brooklyn Crucifix.” It creates a scandal in his Hasidic community and the book ends with the Rebbe sending him abroad (and read, too, its sequel, “The Gift of Asher Lev”). In 1972, that was a skillful plot twist . . . and now it has become a trite cliché, presented out of any meaningful context. What’s next, Che Guevara Crucified? *Yawn!*
Poor Mr. Cox. Frankly, if I had some Rossignols strapped to my feet and could be schlussing down a mountain in Montana, I would be having myself a durn fine time than to be worried about a statue of a bearded gentleman in a robe (and, I note, a safety helmet, which I could find offensive but I think He would just laugh off, you know, being omnipotent and all).
This man is evidently so offended, that he finds the time to ski "many times past the statue."