And then you get these self-appointed theology kings like Wesley Huff, rattling off Greek conjugations like we’re supposed to be impressed. Great, dude, you can parse verbs in Koine. Clap. Clap. Clap. Meanwhile, I have a fancy degree in theology too, and I’m here to tell you that half of that was smoke and mirrors, academic circle-jerks dressed up in archaic terms. They might as well call it a “My Big Ass” because it’s all speculation on top of speculation, culminating in a neat bound thesis that nobody outside your committee will ever fucking read.

Wesley Huff, on the other hand, wants you to believe he’s got a fucking red phone straight to God just because he can quote the Church Fathers in their original language. Spoiler alert: that line’s still busy. He’s peddling a different brand of cosmic racket: “Listen to me, because I know the holy texts better than you.” A hyper-intellectual con job is still a con job.

And the best part? My own background in theology gave me the x-ray vision to see right through both camps. You read enough old scriptures, slap enough footnotes on your papers, pass around enough offering plates and you realize it’s a celestial ponzie scheme.  Every so-called authority is jerking off behind a curtain, hoping you won’t notice. Hell half of the church’s clergy it seems is “under investigation.” Give me Billy Carson any day.

So yeah, I’ll take my “degree in bullshit” and trust my gut before I swallow another cosmic carnival pitch or sanctified lecture. Because at the end of the day, they’re all carnival barkers in different costumes, and the only difference is how well they mask the stench of their own fantasies. At least Billy Carson does it with a neon glow and a stage persona. Wesley Huff does it in a gym outfit for some reason, pretending his rhetorical flourishes make him some guardian of absolute truth.

Seems to me that real knowledge starts when you realize just how much these talking heads don’t know. That’s my gospel truth. Take it or heave it.