or not. It all depends on whose claims you believe. As a dog I don’t have to believe in any ‘cos all dogs go to Heaven … just try some of the miracle cures and who knows, perhaps your troubles really will all be over (ask President Trump about his proffered CV19 injection cures) … digression … oh, yes, your quote:

Ngatea man Roger Blake, who sells the bleach through his online business NZ Water Purifier Limited, is a ‘bishop’ of the Genesis II Church of Health and Healing.

The ‘church’ originated in Florida and is not religious. Its sole function is to promote the use of the bleach formula that it calls Miracle Mineral Supplement, or MMS, which its followers also sell. (To become a ‘bishop’ of the church, one can download a $320 video course, and must provide two video testimonials of people who have been ‘treated’ with MMS.)

Your source:  CLICKETH HERE

May your Dog protect you from all harm, regardless. Trust in Dog from whom all blessings flow, Dog will never harm you … but beware of wolfs in sheep clothings, and many other marvellous modern miracles. Brrrr. Buy now and you get extra:

Various claims about MMS made by Genesis II leaders include that it can cure HIV, hepatitis, acne, cancer and now Covid-19 …

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and precious Corona virus—without which many of us wouldn’t be worried enough to look for escape from ever-lurking Death. (It’s one more way, I suppose, for Him to fill his ‘Angel Of Death’ quotas)(and churches.)


to have a God in charge who thinks of everything. Praise the Lord, then, from whom all blessings flow; and whatever else you do, don’t look at the photo in my previous post on this site … lest thee be discouraged and perhaps tempted to query thine own faith.



“Yes, Mr God, Sir?”

Are you being sarcastic again, Dog?”

“Not enough to be noticeable, Your Godliness, Sir.”

“Carry on then, Dog … your effort is as appreciated on Earth as it is in Heaven.”

dodo me

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* God the Prime Mover created everything, no?



in God’s own country

—and this bit in New Zealand’s ‘Southland Times”(social comment?)

Admittedly, church services are far from identical. At some the worshipers take the “He is my shield” declaration literally indeed. Hence those T-shirts reading: “Spoiler alert: Jesus wasn’t vaccinated.”

Certainly there was cause for concern when Destiny Church’s earthly leader Brian Tamaki was taking the line during the strictures of level 4 that tithe-paying Christians were protected from coronavirus.

What are we discussing/illustrating there—ignorance? Arrogance? The eternal lust of the con-man for pelf?

Above snippet from:  CLICK HERE

And for all those people who died in the epidemic:

get God in your lives! You know: ‘sure and certain resurrection’ etc etc … but hopefully in a world free from the viruses that the Unique Prime Mover of The Universe set up and loosed God alone knows how long ago. Why’d He do that? Hey, don’t ask me … go ask a priest. Any priest …

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Think for yourself. Independently, not as instruc  commanded. But first, ponder if you will the circumstances that provoked this anguished outburst—

However, cinemas, bars, restaurants and shops can operate and earlier this week the Government raised the limit of people able to attend funerals. 

Rev Paris said while the pandemic meant people were living in unprecedented times there had been no new coronavirus cases in the Southern District Health Board catchment area for weeks and it was time to allow some form of worship.

It seemed ironic that cinemas, cafés, bars and schools could open but the church could not, Rev Paris said.

To read from source: CLICKETH HEREUNTO

Do the words “act of God” not spring to mind? They should …

You know: God. God the Almighty, the all loving, all compassionate, all forgiving*, the all-knowing source of the entire universe** …




“Yes, Mr God, Sir?”

“There’s a bone in the oven and an eternal pooping-on-the-lawn space reserved for you in my camp, Dog! Only when you’re ready, of course—those I love most don’t always die young.”

dodo me

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*  But only (R) ONLY if you play your cards right … you know, according to His rules as interpreted by the myriad franchises making bucks from selling His unique stuff.

** The God who created, from the original nothing-at-all, Himself first and then His universesesesesesesesesese scattered throughout Time and Space. The same Guy who with immaculate attention to detail visited an obscure hovel on an insignificant wee planet in a galactic backwater;  to bonk and thereby impregnate (for all time) some carpenter’s rather gullible naive wee wife …




Yep. With nothing on my conscience (ever as clean as the proverbial, as pure as the driven snow) I still sent such tidal waves across our waterbed that The Spouse got up quietly and sneaked off to the sofa. Took the teddy bear too, dammit …


So here’s a repost, taken from my more light-hearted site. Make of it what you will, and if any offended religious folks feel moved enough to challenge — come get me, Tiger!


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No gods, goddesses, or long skinny mysterious ethereal things were harmed in the process of writing this tale. No offence is intended to anyone, alive or half-dead. Just enjoy (if your religion will allow).

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In the beginning all was void

and without form. Then after a very busy few days and nights God created Man, in His own image.

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(Ooops … bugger!) (Rewind, try again)—

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That being the gospel truth, must then mean there’s a feminine variant of God …

Now flash forward some years (about six thousand by some counts, about 14,000,000,000 by others) to ME in the here and right now:

Knock knock!

“Who’s there?” Damn. I’m busy, delegate—



“Can you get that, please?”

Mutter mutter mutter … click, followed by indistinct voices.

Door closes, two lots of footsteps.

Uh oh. A visitor, and me up to my elbows in old-fashioned pen and pages—blasted power cut. Damn again … curiosity:

“Who is it, Toots?”

“No-one you know — it’s Mrs God. She says she’s calling in person to see you after your recent blog posts. Who’ve you cranked up this time?”


“What’s she want?”

“Just a chat. Says she knows you’re busy and will be until you finish that commentary on polar bears — I didn’t know you wrote about polar bears?”

Poop. Other than me no-one does, I’ve just started it. Oh! Mrs God, of course.

“Tell her I’ll be right out—”

“In about twelve minutes, She says. I’d offer Her a coffee but the power’s still off — oh, not a problem, She’s got the jug going.”

“It’s still off in here.”

“And here — it’s only on at the jug. Weird.”

“Whom did you say it was?”

“Mrs God … … … … … … oh!

That might explain something.

“Can you get Her to—” My computer boots into life.

“—thanks. Appreciated.”

Again I marvel at my own ability to accept the unacceptable at a moment’s notice. Okay, miracles sometimes do take a little longer, no problem. Now, polar bears, something important in the great scheme of things … aaaah.

Still marvelling I shift from pen to keyboard, momentarily resenting that She hadn’t called earlier. Honestly, some People …

“She says She’s sorry about that! A minor miracle was needed at short notice in Afghanistan to stop some more Buddha statues being blown up. Took a bit longer than She expected. Bloody heathens.”


A thought—

“Couldn’t Hubby have done it?”

“She’s not speaking to Him right now. Something to do with His ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude, She says.”

Coffee noises float in through my doorway, followed by a heavenly scent. Blue Mountain, my favourite, how did She know? Oops, dumb questi—

“Omniscience, She says. It can be a bit of a pain too, sometimes.”


“Buddhas? I’d have thought She’d be happy the competition was being blown up?”

A loud appreciative slurp is followed by Spouse’s voice, tinged with deepest appreciation (think orgasmic, only more so).

“She says that it’s Mr God who’s the jealous one, she’s more the live-and-let-live type Herself. Anyway, competition is healthy, lowers the costs, so the believer benefits all round.”

Ye gods. A capitalistic free-thinking God? Goddess?

A thought.

“What’s She look like?”

“She says just get on with your writing — and to stop hammering anthropogenic as being too man-made, it’s a lost subtlety.”

Gone. Just like that, a whole morning’s scratchings.

Rip. Shred, tear, rip. Control A + delete. Start again.

“Does She have any suggestions?”

“Argie, She’s gorgeous! And says to use your own free will, She’s not going to write it for you … eh? What? … Oh! (Okay, I’ll tell him) … but your article on revamping NZ politics sure stirred ‘em up!”

“I haven’t written one!”

“Next week — She apologised for mixing the dates up, says being in next week as well as here and now can sometimes get confusing.”

NZ politics? Now there’s a thought.

“Should I come out there?” I know the Spouse, her idea of gorgeous means absolutely divine. Oops.

“No point, She says. You have to believe first. Disbelievers can never see Her.”


I watch in disbelief as a coffee floats in through the doorway and parks itself neatly between keyboard and mouse. Coffee at least is real. My hair fluffles to an unseen soft touch and I feel a light kiss on the back of my neck. Instant goosebumps.

“So you believe in God, Toots? I never knew that.”

“Not in God, no. Mrs God, yes — it’s a girlie thing, you wouldn’t understand.”

Witch. Thanks for the coffee, anyway. A thousand questions flood my mind. At last, a chance for some answers.

“Argie! She’s grabbed her stuff and is heading for the door—”

Damn! So close, yet so far.

“—She says that if you’re going to get all metaphysical on Her She’s out of here—what have you done?”

Me? Nothing. Yet. Eek.

My keyboard explodes into life and this post finishes writing itself before my eyes in mere milliseconds. I lean forward and obediently sip from the coffee floating in front of my lips while the keys rattle on. Cute.

The script switches to bold italics — goody, I like italics — and this post finishes itself just as the front door closes with a gentle, final, and perfectly omnipotent CLICK.

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jolly rogerCORN.

Rarely a good idea, Mr Pastor—a good shepherd nourishes and protects his sheep, only a bloody fool kills off his breeding stocks and source of income …

Yet despite the climbing death toll, many US church leaders throughout the Bible Belt have not only continued to hold services but have urged worshippers to continue paying tithes — including recent stimulus checks — to support their mission*.

Bishop Gerald Glenn, founder and leader since 1995 of the New Deliverance Evangelistic Church in Chesterfield, Virginia, was the first black chaplain of the town’s police. He had vowed to continue preaching “unless I’m in jail or the hospital” before his death from coronavirus earlier this month.

from:  Clicketh hereunto


“Kill ’em all, Dog! I know my own …”


dodo copydodo copy                                                                                     dodo copy

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* And what, pray, is their mission? Simply put: it is to separate as many gullible dupes from their cash as is humanly divinely possible. (They do it well too.) (Hopefully, before they all pop their clogs.)




are not to be denied or decried … they are to be celebrated! Blessed is the Lord, and who are we to query, question, or deny?


Dozens of pastors across the Bible Belt have succumbed to coronavirus after churches and televangelists played down the pandemic and actively encouraged churchgoers to flout self-distancing guidelines.

As many as 30 church leaders from the nation’s largest African American Pentecostal denomination have now been confirmed to have died in the outbreak, as members defied public health warnings to avoid large gatherings to prevent transmitting the virus.

Deaths across the US in areas where the Church of God in Christ has a presence have reportedly stemmed from funerals and other meetings among clergy and other church staff held during the pandemic

The tragedy among one of the largest black Pentecostal groups follows a message of defiance from many American churches, particu—

sourced from:  CLICK HERE

Truly blessed is the Lord, who sendeth the cures for His holy plagues. The only pity here is that the innocent go under the mallet too often too …

Sleep tight!

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