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I rather like that term, “Jitney Jezebel” so I may well adopt it. I envision carrying water to the parched places or perhaps a lamp into dark spots. Let me jezzy-jitney some common sense right on over to the downright foolish.

So Pastor Wilson writes “Jitney Jezebels and Ride Sally Ride,” in which he attempts to justify his latest book, a very non misogynistic, non BDSM, totally woman affirming novel about sex dolls.

Some Jezzies have objected on account of the fact that sometimes women resent they way we are portrayed and perceived, as a two dimensional, pornographic image lacking a soul, either a plastic sex doll or a radical Jezzy who doesn’t know her place. There is no in between place for women, no shades of grey available when you are simply the empty holographic projection of someone else’s narcissistic fantasy.

By the way, when you refer to women more frequently as “Jezebel” than “beloved Phoebe,” you’re probably a misogynist attempting to make Holy within you what is not Holy at all.

Sigh. There are none so blind and those who cannot see. I attempt to have some compassion on Doug Wilson because that is just how I roll. So I like to refer to him as the Blind Pharisee of Sherwood Forest rather than Pastor Asshat, which is probably more apt. It comforts me to assume people are blind and unaware of what they do, rather than just deliberately evil.

I am frequently wrong about that, but it’s a kind of wrongness I plan to hang onto.

I wanted to know what people saw when I spoke about Jesus, what crazy false perceptions and circus of churchian clowns they were envisioning that would cause them to recoil so vehemently. People recoil and there are some spiritual reasons for that, but there is also some really evident and visible trauma. Men and women. In fact, men tend to break my heart the most of all, because they can’t really talk about it. They just recoil.

I speak the name of Jesus and I just see joy, healing, light, laughter, grace. Others see hypocrisy, oppression, exploitation, and sexual abuse. Others see rejection, persecution, and the protection and defense of pedophiles. Pedos are the redeemed. You can repent of being a pedophile, not so easy to repent of being female, the root of all evil, the cause of all the world’s sexual dysfunction, Eve, Jezebel, etc, etc.

In some circles the only way a woman can get right with the Lord is to totally erase herself. Become as small and quiet and as insignificant as possible, so you don’t in some way threaten or intimidate the “real” image bearers with your mere existence. Try to take up basket weaving and nursery work. They tend to like that. Also, you’ll be in another room down the hall, so out of sight, out of mind.

The other day I read some stuff from Wilson and I thought, you know, if I had marinated in this kind of false churchian ideology about men and women being preached by people like Pastor Doug Wilson, my soul would have begun to rot, my hair would now be green, my face would be covered with sharpie scribbles, and I’d be out setting fire to cars in Portland right now. That is the darn truth.

Totally emotional perhaps, but it’s like, I don’t even know what evil this is, just smash it. Patriarchy? Capitalism? Global warming? Who cares, it’s dark, it’s ugly, burn it down. Oh yeah, I totally get it. I think it’s wrong, but I sure do understand where it’s coming from.

It is evident that the only character Wilson self identifies with is the hero of his story, the persecuted “victim,” the guy on trial for crushing a man’s sex doll in a recycling center. We don’t have to read the book Pastor Wilson, we live it out every darn day. We already know what it means to be a two dimensional pornographic hologram and we already get the terrible “injustice,” the satire that would dare to suggest that perhaps it’s criminal to harm such a empty vessel, a shallow, man made creature? I mean, are these guys nuts or what??

Hardy harr harr.

Most of us care nothing about the coarse language and sexual themes, we care about the fact that women ARE already perceived as objects, not image bearers at all, but simply creatures made in the image of man. We aren’t shocked, appalled, or horrified by sex robots, we actually envy her her speedy demise in a trash compactor.

Long ago the Lord won my heart by showing me some initials carved in a tree, ICU. I see you. I promptly said, “nobody else does.” And He said, nobody else matters. Much later I discovered Jesus did the very same thing to every woman in the Bible, He conveyed the idea to them that, I see you.

And that is why I know Jesus was and is Divine. Human men, especially churchian ones of Wilsonian caliber, can often only see themselves.