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Are you?!

If you’ve never bothered to ask yourself that question before, then the question answers itself, because an indifference to your passive-purple-four-ball status is a classic sign of passive-purple-four-ballity.

Or so I gather from this bit of spam sent to me by Calvary Press:

Manly Dominion: In a Passive-Purple-Four-Ball World – by Mark Chanski
Are you a passive-purple-four-ball? In billiards, the four-ball is passive; it’s the one that gets knocked around by the other balls. Christian man, is that you?

If so, you must learn to become a ball knocker, not he whose balls are knocked.

Are you knocked around by your environment, rather than taking your God-given assignment to lead? Are you passive when faced with difficult situations at home, church or work? Unfortunately, the world today is filled with many passive-purple-four-ball men, who are clueless as to how to deal with their work environment, relate to their wives, raise their children, spiritually guide their families, and lead with confidence in their churches.

That does sound like a lot of work, especially when you’ve got two extra balls to deal with.  It must feel like hobbling around with a fleshy sack of Clackers.

Mark Chanski’s book is a clarion call to all Christian men to face life’s challenges with Manly Dominion.

Now with patented Purple-Four-Ball-Be-Gone.

It will challenge and encourage you to lead, wherever God places you, with Spirit-filled conviction. The wisdom contained herein is from the most reliable source known: God’s Word, the Bible.

As interpreted by his inerrant prophet, Mark Chanski (a graduate of Grand Rapids Baptist Seminary).

As you read, you will discover that Chanski touches on just about every subject that a man needs to consider in his life, and he does so with unequalled clarity. No Christian man (or woman!) living in today’s world should be without it. Read carefully, and transform your life!

Yes, it’s a complicated metaphor, so read carefully, or you might not be able to disentangle Mark’s subtle symbology:

“Man is to aggressively dominate his environment, instead of allowing his environment to dominate him,” Chanski writes. “I am not to be a passive-purple four-ball! I am rather to be a stick-carrying player! In the spheres of my life, I must subdue and rule, and not permit myself to be subdued and ruled.

So cinch up your spheres, boys, and grab your stick, before your old lady gets her hands on it and declares her dominion over the Earth and makes you go with her to Target on Saturday.

“In the Lord Jesus Christ, the Christian finds his ultimate model for subduing and ruling over the opposing circumstances of our sin cursed world,” he writes.

Although Jesus was fined twice for using illegal submission holds, and one time he got a two-week suspension for using a foreign object, so, you know, don’t go all crazy.

Anyway, Mark’s wisdom arrived on the same day that the front page of the Los Angeles Times highlighted another front in the anti-passive-purple-four-balls war, Manliness is next to godliness:

Brad Stine runs onstage in ripped blue jeans, his shirt untucked, his long hair shaggy. He’s a stand-up comic by trade, but he’s here today as an evangelist, on a mission to build up a new Christian man — one profanity at a time. “It’s the wuss-ification of America that’s getting us!” screeches Stine, 46.

A moment later he adds a fervent: “Thank you, Lord, for our testosterone!”

Hold hands with strangers? Sing love songs to Jesus? No wonder pews across America hold far more women than men, Stine says. Factor in the pressure to be a “Christian nice guy” — no cussing, no confrontation, in tune with the wife’s emotions — and it’s amazing men keep the faith at all.

“We know men are uncomfortable in church,” says the Rev. Kraig Wall, 52, who pastors a small church in Franklin, Tenn. — and is at GodMen to research ways to reach the husbands of his congregation. His conclusion: “The syrup and the sticky stuff is holding us down.”

As dieties go, Jesus is just too saccharine.  You get the blood of the lamb, when you really want to see the blood gushing from the nose of the infidel you just decked for dissing your Headship.

John Eldredge, a seminal writer for the movement, goes further in “Wild At Heart,” his bestselling book. “Christianity, as it currently exists, has done some terrible things to men,” he writes. Men “believe that God put them on earth to be a good boy.”

But if you dig down deep into scripture, you’ll find that God really put you on earth to be a remoreless, unstoppable killing machine made of liquid metal.  So I advise all Christians concerned about their masculinity to visit their nearest zinc-plating establishment and avail themselves of the hot dip galvanizing process.

Stine asks the men: “Are you ready to grab your sword and say, ‘OK, family, I’m going to lead you?’”

My dad was a profoundly decent man, and would never have grabbed his sword in front of the family.  Still, I don’t want to give the false impression that, what with all the talk of cue-sticks and sword-grabbing, there’s anything remotely phallocentric about this program.

A workshop called “Training the Penis” encourages men to talk openly about temptation and bond with guys who share their struggles.

Okay.  Check that.

Fortunately, this isn’t just another avenue for sneaking Promise Keeper-style misogyny into the home:

He also distributes a list of a real man’s rules for his woman. No. 1: “Learn to work the toilet seat. You’re a big girl. If it’s up, put it down.”

Doesn’t that sound like just the sort of thing Jesus would have said to Mary Magdalene if he’d had indoor plumbing?

Stine’s wife, Desiree, says she supports manly leadership; it seems to her the natural and God-ordained order of things. As she puts it: “When the rubber hits the bat, I want to know my husband will protect me.”

Admittedly, Stine’s philosophy does seem to be working in his own home, but we should note that he may have an unfair advantage, since he clearly married an idiot.  For the rest of us, living by the New Testosterone Testament may prove a bit more challenging:

But some men at the conference run into trouble when they debut their new attitudes at home. Eric Miller, a construction worker, admits his wife is none too pleased when he takes off, alone, on a weekend camping trip a few weeks after the GodMen conference this fall.  “She was a little bit leery of it, as we have an infant,” he reports. “She said, ‘I need your help around here.’ ”

Miller, 26, refuses to yield: “I am supposed to be the leader of the family.”

And leaders get to abdicate their responsibilities whenever they want and go off camping, or cutting brush, or blasting pen-raised quail.  It says so in the Bible.  Book of Jerks, Chapter 7, Verse 18.

He’s pretty sure his wife will come around once she recognizes he’s modeling his life after Jesus’, like a good Christian should. It’ll just take a little explaining, because the Jesus he has in mind is the guy on the wanted poster: “confrontational and sarcastic when he needed to be,” Miller says, and determined to use “whatever means was necessary to achieve his goal.”

Jesus’ goal was eternal salvation for Mankind.  Miller’s goal is to avoid changing a diaper.  The parallels are a little too eerie if you ask me.

And the increased steroid content in today’s sacramental wine may explain the War on the War on Christmas:

A few weeks later, Stephenson, 43, is still not sold on profanity. But he has ditched the nice-guy reflex of always turning the other cheek. When he spots a Wal-Mart clerk writing “Happy Holidays” on a window, he boldly complains: It should say “Merry Christmas.”

The clerk erases the offending greeting. Chalk one up for Christian testosterone

Then when the self-satisfied Stephenson left the store with his gallon jug of French’s Mustard, an US magazine to read on the crapper, and a set of new floor mats, the clerk erased Merry Christmas and wrote Happy Holidays again.  Chalk one up for turning the other cheek until the assholier-than-thou customer heads back to his car.

So what does it mean for Christianity that there are so many frustrated, insecure adherents desperately searching for a way to express Jesus’ message of love and peace in a manner that is spiritually authentic, but more violent and intimidating?  Well, it’s just another indication that many of our evangelicals are simply in the wrong religion.  The crusading era of Christianity is over, guys, you missed it.  If you’re looking to convert a few heathens at sword point, you’re not likely to get a purse of gold and a papal writ from the Fifth United Methodist Church in Wheaton, Illinois.

However, there is a group in Waziristan that seems to practice the kind of muscular, confrontational, action-oriented faith you’re apparently craving, and I hear they’re always on the lookout for a new number three guy.  Just a thought.

35 Responses to “Are you a passive-purple-four-ball?”

A workshop called “Training the Penis” encourages men to talk openly about temptation and bond with guys who share their struggles.

Let me guess. This is really just a circle jerk let by Ted Haggert?

He’s pretty sure his wife will come around once she recognizes he’s modeling his life after Jesus’, like a good Christian should.

I guess what Jesus was really doing out in the desert when he was getting “tempted” was…camping.

When Testosterone Jesus said to turn the other cheek, he was instructing us to moon the infidels.

A workshop called “Training the Penis” encourages men to talk openly about temptation and bond with guys who share their struggles.

See, I bet once they start using highly trained penises, they won’t find themselves in so many manholes.

Oh man, Jesus’ General is going to be so all over this…

Great one, scott, as usual. Where DO these idiots come from?

Opps. Haggard.

If you are concerned about having purple balls, the answer is masturbation, not naked wrestling with your fellow HE-MENNNNNNNNN WIMMIN HATERSSSSSS

This message brought to you courtesy of “Simply Left Behind” and “Masturbate For Peace”

…he boldly complains…

That really says it all, doesn’t it? “He whined with courage.”

“Users of Christian testosterone who experience purple balls lasting over four hours should seek medical attention immediately.”

Wow. These ass clowns don’t see just not giving a damn and not trying to even make excuses for yourself… and this? is godlike?

“Are you ready to grab your sword and say, ‘OK, family, I’m going to lead you?’”

I’m totally ready to grab my sword…

Whoops, I think it’s time for another training session for my penis…


I am not a passive purple four ball! I am a man! Well, a woman. Also, a spaghetti pusher, I have that on some authority.

While I’m at it, can I try once more the joke I used the first time I read about these grubby Promise-Keepers (At No More Mr Nice Blog)?

Iron John is Born Again.

Oh yes. Let’s try it again, gentlemen. If you want us to not bitch at you for leaving the seat up, aim better or clean the fucking thing. No one wants to look at that, understand? If you’re not going to do either, you can bloody well put the seat down so we don’t have to dash in and scrub at your spots every time we hear you flush. Okay? It’s got nothing the fuck to do with oppressing you or bending you to our will or anything like that. It’s a simple courtesy that is, let’s face it, much easier for you to learn to do than cleaning the damned thing yourself.

Jesus Christ, boys, even the fucking housecats know enough to cover their piss until someone can clean it up. You guys really want to demand special treatment for being less clever than an animal that eats live bugs?

I am also a spaghetti pusher. I have no balls. Not even two. No colors. And although I am a big woman, I still expect the toilet seat and lid to be put down by all members of the household so the cats don’t fall in.

It’s part of that tricky “Love each other as I have loved you” thing Christ said.

Christ! These guys are moronic!

Thank you.

See, this is why fundies went ballistic over “Brokeback Mountain”. Every woman who sees it is gonna wonder what her husband’s REALLY doing when he takes off with one of his buddies. And judging from these guys, a lot of those women will be right.

If there’s anything worse than being a passive-purple-four-ball, it’s being a yammerin-yellow-nine-ball. Not only do you have a yellow strip down your back, but others are trying to pot you straight into the Iraqi side pocket!

The toilet seat thing is approachable by means of cold logic, immune to even the most advanced Manly Theological arguments.

To wit: there are three bodily functions distributed amongst two sexes that commonly require the use of the toilet whose seat’s position is the object of contention. One of these functions is performed by only one gender and requires that the seat be in the down position. Of the other two functions, shared by both genders, only one function is performed by one gender in such a way that the seat must (or should) be raised.

The raised position function is in a 20% minority, and must therefore, in a democratic republic, cede to the majority.

If you’re wondering what Brad Stine’s comedy act is like, here’s a couple samples:

The nicest thing I can say about it is, it’s not as bad as Victoria Jackson’s (to name another bloody awful “Christian comedian”).

I dunno. That leaves the door open for a majority-male household to leave the seat up despite issues of pets, sleepy-sitting-in-the-dark, and cleanliness and aesthetics. I like to stick with the basics. Men seem to loathe cleaning the toilet and drying off the cat far more than they dislike making a habit of putting the seat–and lid, dammit–down.

I just think it’s cute how Mr Petulant whines that women should learn to operate a toilet seat (while suggesting that it should always be in the Up position for his convenience). Seriously, buddy, who cleans it in your house? I’m guessing, given the dinner-on-the-table-when-I-get-home attitude, it’s your wife. This would seem to indicate *she* already knows how to use it, and *you* want to be allowed to forget.

Okay, the up/down question’s a silly one. I wanna know why people don’t turn the bathroom light on first. I live alone and I don’t do that.

I grew up playing billiards – both balkline and three-cushin — to the best of my knowledge, the game is played with only three balls (white, white w/red dot, and red); there is no purple ‘jesus’ ball. . . I thought for a moment that I was going to be saved, and repent my sinful ways, but then I realized that this guy didn’t understand billiards, and therefore his entire analogy was bogus. Oh well, I guess I’ll have a drink and download some porn. . . .

A moment later he adds a fervent: “Thank you, Lord, for our testosterone!”

That’d be the extra pair of balls talking, I guess.

[...] From World ‘o Crap, something really funny. [...]

Kudos, man. So funny, I plotzed.

Are you a passive-purple-four-ball?

Well. No. But I think I can be classified as a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin’ purple people eater.

Wow, this is great. A Church of Pure Entitlement. This new attempt to edit christianity into a form more appealing to Y chromosomes sounds rather like the Promises Keepers farrago, although without any tiresome talk about Promises or Obligations or Responsibilities. But if they were serious about making the churches more appealing to men, they would provide beer on tap. And a billiard table.

“When the rubber hits the bat, I want to know my husband will protect me.”
Clearly these people have not actually read the bible, or they would know that Leviticus prohibits the mixing of metaphors. I can’t remember the actual verse but it’s just after the prohibitions on mixing two fibres in the same cloth, or planting two grains in the same field.
OK — I made it up. But I am fairly sure that there is nothing in the Sermon on the Mount about “Blessed are the wife-beaters”.

I thought the line about rubber hitting the bat for protection was a reference to birth control. I certainly hope so-the Stines don’t strike me as people who should reproduce.

Mark Chanski’s book is a clarion call to all Christian men to face life’s challenges with Manly Dominion.
Now there’s a niche. If I were more of an entrepreneur, I would certainly be marketing an aftershave called Manly Dominion. Along with my Blood-of-the-Lamb shower gel: “Have you been washed in the Blood of the Lamb?”

Now had he asked “You want to do a Frisco Speedball” instead of “Are you a passive-purple-four-ball?” the rest of the column would have been just as crazy, but at least I could have figured out what triggered it.

Linking The Christian Fundy Man Movement with the Taliban sort of reminds me of When Hitler met Stalin.

From the “Trivia you couldn’t care less about” desk (It’s in my spare room – er, the desk, not the trivia). When Clay Lacy was flying Unlimited Class at the Reno Races back in the Seventies he flew the “Passionate Purple P-51″. And he had a big stuffed snoopy in his backseat…


This guy must contribute to writing the Zippy strip. The last frame writes itself here:
“Passive purple four ball”.
“Passive purple four ball”.
“Passive purple four ball”.

Christian man, is that you?

Well, there he goes, leaping to incorrect conclusions right out of the gate.
You know, the title of this little petite fours is such a mangled attempt at a topical reference that I thought the book just had to be by WO’C favorite, li’l Doug Giles, but… no.

Are you knocked around by your environment, rather than taking your God-given assignment to lead?

And then he goes on to suggest that all these men lead. As in everyone. Well, in fact, there can only be one leader at a time. It all settles into a hierarchal, graduated order of leaders and followers. If every (Christian) man attempted to lead in every situation in which he found himself, constant fighting and rampant chaos would result. If you went to Church, and rather than listen to a sermon by the pastor, every man in the place got up and started in on his own sermon at the top of his lungs, as they fought amongst themselves for the pulpit, what would you think? Other than that every male in the place had gone completely, 100%, rubber-room insane?


That was an absolutely delicious turn-of-phrase, which I (ass)wholly intend to steal and use, probably without attribution. It describes so many so well.
Life is unpleasant enough without assholes actually training people to be just like them! And isn’t there at least something a little bit sacrilegious in admitting, so openly, that your savior is a jerk?

Now had he asked “You want to do a Frisco Speedball” instead of “Are you a passive-purple-four-ball?” the rest of the column would have been just as crazy, but at least I could have figured out what triggered it.
Mehitabel the Abyssinian has just reminded me, by coughing one up, that Chanski would also make more sense if he had asked about passive purple fur-balls. I do need to keep her away from the food colouring.

Oh, and scott? Don’t mess around with Wheaton, Illinois. It is the World Capitol Of Bible Printing! Yes, the Wheaton Bible Press (probably the source of all those motel Bibles that used to plague D. Sidhe so) and the Billy Graham Center at Wheaton College are pretty much its claims to fame. Oh, and Belushi was born there.

Ayup. That’s pretty much it.

“When the rubber hits the bat, I want to know my husband will protect me.”

Whoaa. Way too much information about their sex life.

[...] Scott at World O’ Crap points us to the anti-passive purple four ball vision of Christianity. [...]

Brad Stine kinda looks like a Just-A-Buck version of Owen Wilson.

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