Of all the many wild 'n' wacky notions entertained and promoted by orgainsed religions, few can be as amusingly bonkos as the idea that (human) earthly adherents of a deity have a responsibility to protect their God from "offensive" criticism, satire, or name-calling. God may be infinitely wise, loving, and compassionate but He¹ gets a right hump when the ingrates he created in his image start taking the piss out of him. If I were omnipotent and omniscient I'd like to think I'd be a bit more thick-skinned.²

Luckily for him, many of his earthbound flunkies dedicate their wretched lives (in this vale of tears) to stopping any of this nasty criticism from floating into his ethereal earholes. Sometimes, alas, portions of the slagging do make it across the void separating the earthly and the divine and God goes totally mental. He gives us AIDS. He causes hurricanes. He makes our lives miserable – opening giant cans of whupass until we learn our lessons and re-meek & un-deprave ourselves.

Lesson to be learned? Here's a guy you don't want to offend. He's like a drunken Godzilla with nappy rash and a mouth full of bombs. He's mad, bad and dangerous to upset (and there's no escaping his gaze). He makes Galactus look like a total pussy.

Let's be grateful then that the previously dormant & slumbering prohibition on blasphemy in our constitution is currently being reignited and made "operable" by Minister for Justice, Dermot Ahern. As it stands, blasphemy (as an offence) is impossible to define. This lack of definition has rendered it fuzzy and amorphous – extending an open invitation to demented God-haters to "blaspheme" with impunity. You think the recent May downpours are evidence of climate change and global warming? Think again, unbelievers! The showers are actually Our Lord simultaneously weeping wounded tears and slashing enraged jets of holy piss down on our constantly blaspheming heads.

Once the legal fuzziness has been removed (by the giant Fuzz-Buster of state) we'll see the shape and outline of blasphemy clearly once more. Even more impressively, we should soon (DPP willing) be able to fling cough-softening fines around and licence the Guards to boot in doors and seize inflammatory material – hopefully before God has a chance to flick through it and go ballistic.

The benefits of a less tetchy and irritable God are obvious. The weather would improve (we might finally get a summer). "Natural" disasters would all but disappear. Outbreaks of frog & locust plagues would be significantly reduced. Anti-social teens loitering on street corners would be replaced by caroling angels and chortling nekkid cherubs. It would be a fine world. A better world.

Why would anyone, other than creepy avant-gardey weirdo artists, want to scupper such a future?

1. Surely a "He" in this case. [back]
2. I speak throughout of Christian things, as that's what I know (and all I know well). [back]

A NEW crime of blasphemous libel is to be proposed by the Minister for Justice in an amendment to the Defamation Bill.

After heaving your jaw off the floor, restoring your popped-out eyes to their parent sockets, and unscrambling your brain matrix, you proceed (with growing horror and dread) to read more.

Sound familiar? I hope so. "Picturegate" now appears to have been merely a censorious aperitif for the four-course, slap up meal of governmental cuntitude to come. The throbbing in my temples either indicates the early stages of swine flu, or I'm choking on my own rage. I'm sure I'm not the only one.

Here's more:

Minister for Justice Dermot Ahern proposes to insert a new section into the Defamation Bill, stating: “A person who publishes or utters blasphemous matter shall be guilty of an offence and shall be liable upon conviction on indictment to a fine not exceeding €100,000."

“Blasphemous matter" is defined as matter “that is grossly abusive or insulting in relation to matters held sacred by any religion, thereby causing outrage among a substantial number of the adherents of that religion; and he or she intends, by the publication of the matter concerned, to cause such outrage."

So many questions.

a) What's the difference (legally speaking) between regular (common or garden) abuse and gross abuse? Does the latter involve mickies? Or poo?

b) Aren't the people most likely to be outraged by such "matter" of a type that wander about in an almost perpetual state of outrage anyway? In other words, is a small bit more outrage likely to make any appreciable difference in their lives? And, doesn't semi-permanent outrage actually shore up their sense of self-righteousness (in the face of a world of godless scum)? Blasphemy might actually be doing them good.

c) Isn't one of the (important & legitimate) functions of art & satire to poke "matters held sacred" with a barbed stick? Precisely because such matters are sacred?

d) Isn't it a typically Irish "out" that you're invited to try and duck the charge by saying any offence caused was unintentional? "Eh…sorry 'bout that lads. I didn't mean to upset anyone with my Blu-Tak sculpture of the Virgin Mary puking into a urinal. I'd meant to depict her saving some lovely babies from a fire. I'd drink on me when I made it and…eh…it went a bit wrong".

In the UK you can (as far as I know) argue that yes, the offence caused was intentional, but that the existence/creation of the "matter" constitutes a "public good" (it serves some interest of science, art, learning etc). No such option here – where many of our influential dullards can't even begin to imagine what possible benefit "aberrant", subversive, fringe, obscene, or absurd thoughts could have for a society where a middle-of-the-road (“Ah now!") consensus on almost everything is assumed (or yearned for).

The rage (or swine flu) is growing stronger by the minute, but so is my tiredness (I wrote this “last night" if you see what I mean). Off to bed with me. Send Suzy some of your most blasphemous, durtiest poems (the secret ones you hide in that box under the bed). I smell another postcard project in all this.

Related Post: Pissing on Bishops: 21st Century Obscenity & the State of the Nation.

Allow me to clarify, again, exactly what's "planned".

1) We want you to buy (borrow or steal) a blank postcard.

2) We want you to then adorn this postcard with your own nude drawing, doodle, collage (etc) of Brian Cowen. These creations can be as "amateur", crude or (indeed) lavish as you see fit. There are no rules. The only restriction being the postcard format. Total freedom is yours. Go nuts.

3) Pop your masterwork in the post to me (address available on request).

4) If/When we collect enough postcards together we'll find a sympathetic gallery space where your creations can be exhibited formally. Hell, there may even be (if it grows into a behemoth) catalogues, guest speakers, wine and cheese freebies etc. We'll see.

All of this is (for me at least) in the spirit of subversive play, satirical mischief-making and artistic absurdity. All joyous things worth preserving and promoting.

The serried rows of cards, each depicting (in their own unique ways) a bollock-naked Taoiseach, will (I hope) both make for an impressive visual, and state emphatically (& amusingly) that the outrageous shit of the last few days will not be tolerated.

Email me (or drop a comment below) for postal address.

Let's get moving and cracking.

Update 01/04/09: I'd appreciate it if people who've already posted cards could tell me a) when they posted them, and, b) If the images were full nudes, partial nudes etc! Reason being, most of the cards that have arrived thus far have either been non-nudey or hidden inside envelopes. This could just be coincidental…but I'd still like to know. Drop a comment or email me (address on sidebar).

Update 02/04/09: I've already sent emails (or Twitter messages) with my address to everyone who's shown interest. If you haven't got yours then tell me & I'll resend. There seems to be an issue with some emails disappearing into the ether…

First port of call was the National Portrait Collection of Ireland, Bourn Vincent Gallery (UL). On its stark white walls I stuck my Cowen/Gravely-ill Badger postcard. Like Martin Luther's 95 theses – only with more dotted lines of piss.

And a close up:

The total absence of FF-sponsored, brutally repressive, security guard goons was a disappointment – but the CCTV cameras that watched my every move no doubt wired their signal straight back to party headquarters. I'll be found face down in a dumpster with a plastic bag over my head before the week's out.

With this job done I flung open the doors and headed out into the wilds (i.e a grassy courtyard): there to share my love of freedom with the myriad spirits of nature. There can be no greater act of communion with Mother Earth than Blu-Tacking a rude postcard to a tree. Behold:

And behold again:

This is a softer, almost (dare I say) touching, Cowen nude. There he is for all the world to see. Stripped of his bullish facade. Stripped of his aura of power. Stripped of his jocks. I could just pick him up, kiss him on his tiny little head, and pop him in my breast pocket. If I didn't hate him for pissing on that poor sick badger. Boo!

Update, 25/03/09, 23.48:
Ok. I hereby want to encourage every single person reading this to send me (via post) a nude Brian Cowen postcard (ask for my address and it will be given). If we gather enough together I'll find a way to exhibit them publicly. If some fail to arrive then we'll also have "postalgate" to concern ourselves with. This is not a joke. I genuinely want to do it.

Might I just add. Cock. Balls. Fanny. And R.I.P. Irish satirical play & mischief-making.

Update: Fergal is asking (via Twitter) that the nation be "wallpapered with naked Cowens". So tomorrow, before breakfast, hell…before anything, get the pens and paper out and create your own hideous nudey portrait of our immortal leader. Then saunter out (whistling a merry tune as you go) and stick it to the nearest public wall, lamp-post, passer-by etc. Do it. For the sake of the nation's children.

Further Update: Damien is demanding much the same thing. Viene una tormenta.

It may have something to do with a new blogging project that has "cunts" (phnarr) in the title. It may, instead, be related to the fact that I'm reading a book about shit. Or, it could, simply, be all down to the omnipresent recession. Everything else is.

Anyway, it struck me, the other day, that I'd no idea what the legal definition of “obscenity" is in 21st century Ireland. Could, for example, one be fined/jailed for obscene acts & works? Did “obscenity", as a legal concept, even exist anymore?

In a bid to answer these vexing questions I did what any serious researcher and seeker after knowledge would. I asked my "followers" on Twitter. Follower Crehan pointed me in the direction of the 1929 Censorship of Publications Act – a document that contains the following choice nugget RE: “indecency".

the word "indecent" shall be construed as including suggestive of, or inciting to sexual immorality or unnatural vice or likely in any other similar way to corrupt or deprave.

Before you chortle, roll the eyes affectionately, and say “Ah! The old days!", bear in mind that the above definition is (Follower Crehan assures me) still (still!) the law. God bless the state that, in its infinite wisdom, protects us from the corrupting durtiness of sex. With a stabilising and paternal hand it pours cold waters on our raging mickies. Without it we would, surely, be wanking openly in the streets and rutting passers-by like drooling pigs in heat. Christ…we're filthy bastards altogether.

Later that day, Follower McGarr telephoned me as I chewed contemplatively on an elevenses sausage. Between mouthfuls of meat (waaa!) we discussed (among other things) Alan Moore's Lost Girls, The Daily Mail (but of course), and (for reasons I can't precisely recall) the laxity of tax legislation. All very pleasant and diverting but, with appetite whetted, I wanted more.

So, in a half-assed amateur looky-uppy spirit, I opened a few books. First port of call was Murdoch's Dictionary of Irish Law (5th ed). “Obscenity" led on (as it does) to “Indecency" where the following was found.

Indecency – Any act which offends modesty, causes scandal or injures the morals of the community.
[...]
The publication or utterance of indecent matter is an offence and is required to be punishable by law.

Now I've always thought (Satan-worshiping lover of depravity that I am) that one of the functions (nay, duties) of art is to be unsettling, upsetting, challenging, discombobulating etc. There are plenty of community “morals" that I'd enjoy seeing “injured", and let's not forget scandal-causing: one of the most entertaining acts a human/artist can engage in. Yet, it turns out, such things are required to be punishable by law. Take that hippies!

Where's this post leading? Not sure…but I'd like to veer off on a slight tangent and mention Irish satire. One of the maddening aspects of our national “satire" (and other “subversive" forms of expression) has traditionally been how it's reigned itself in in the face of “Ah now!" culture.

“Ah now…you can't say that". “Ah now…that's not on". “Ah now". “Ah now".

Ah now? Ah fuck off.

The perfect response to (and antidote for) fat-necked Fianna Fáil soul-destroyers, banking fucknuts, The Sunday Independent, and all the myriad life-sapping forces that surround us is not cuddly ("Sure, it's all a bit of fun!") mickey-taking, but properly transgressive and (yes) even obscene "art" (define that how you will). Forget whoopee cushions, let's have some proper bombs. Old-timey anarchist ones. Ah now. Ah now. Kaboom!

Tomorrow I'll kick things off by…let's see…uhm wandering around town in a provocative t-shirt. On it will be a cartoon horse, wearing knee high boots and lipstick, pissing on a bishop. You have to start somewhere.

Conclusion: This, I know, has rambled, raved and meandered. But it's merely a kicking off point. An opening for a chat. Thoughts? Questions? Free legal advice? Over to you.