Ripped directly from today's headlines, yesterday's congressional hearings, and last Sunday's sermon (and tomorrow's NAMBLA application), Deliver See No Evil grapples with the question the Catholic Church has been asking, answering, getting answers to, and then sweeping it all under the rug in the Vatican's romper room for nearly 15,000 years, namely, What do you get when you take a priest with a seemingly bottomless affection for kids and have him baby sit your pre-pubescent boys and girls at slumber party sleepovers in his house? (Naked Twister™?)
Answer: Well, it sure ain't "the love that daren't whisper its name, i.e., "the love of feet".
Deliver See No Evil, from documentarian filmmaker Annie Bergowitz, Jew (how convenient), tells the story of that loveable yet Irishman Patrick Olivier "Patty" McDrunkagain, former priest and sometime jail denizen, who simply loves children. And it's that love that gets the better of him and them in the end, giving a whole new meaning to the word "anti-sodomite".
Let the fun-for-the-whole-family laugh riot begin!
Something something… "And then Jesus wept."
And with a twist ending that will have you scratching your head and hugging your kids for dear life when priests are not-so-hurriedly shuffled from parish to parish until they're finally "outed", you'll begin to wonder if it's more accurate to say, "On the lam of God." Looks like it's time to get out the "Doll of Molestation", do some pointing, and toss off a couple of verses of that wonderful Bill Gather song, "He Touched Me". Again.
When the lights go out, folks, we don't want movies like Deliver See No Evil. We need movies like Deliver See No Evil, if for no other reason than it's important to understand that the Catholic Church doesn't have the "corner" of the "market" on pedophilia. It's just that when a religion has tenets that declare its leaders holier-than-thou to its followers, literally, their "store" seems to have the best "customer service".
[Disclaimer: I was baptized and confirmed in the Lutheran Church. The wound is deep, Sire.]
[said with a very strong New York City accent]
Don't get me wrong. I think God loves everyone. I really do. I just don't think he loves everyone at the same time. Oh, sure, he'll make a butterfly land on a retarded boy's head, making him feel all special and alive. Meanwhile you're getting fist-fucked right outta camp.
-Dave Attell, from Skanks for the Memories, live in Denver (from memory, sorry)