Jesus-jacked

Maybe someone more computer literate than me (i.e., almost everybody) can explain this. Yesterday a friend asked for the address of this blog, and so I e-mailed her the link. When you click on it, though, you are um... delivered from my Godless pushing of the Gay Agenda and soul-threatening links to sites where the Gospel is mocked and young men play with each others' boy-bits, and find yourself instead here, a dense, multiply-hyperlinked page of fundie Xtian twaddle, with all the familiar piles of nauseating shite I have attacked and sent up so frequently on L.A. How came this about, think ye? Well, either it was pure fluke, or some deluded God-botherer has attempted to intercept what traffic to my blog he can, in order to save souls. If this is the case, may I politely ask you to desist? I'm being very restrained here, but won't be for long if you don't get the hell off my blog.

I had a look at some of the links and from one of them culled the following inspirational lyric, which I reproduce for your upliftment. The poem is catchily entitled 'Me, Myself and I, Plus You' Take it away!

Me, Myself, and I, which includes you—
one was born in the city; one was born in the country;
one was born somewhere under the sky.

And we grew up in the city; we grew up in the country;
we grew up somewhere—we knew not why.

We three, became the center of our surroundings,
of our world, of our universe.
Nothing was more important than “I”.

Our children came first; in our job, we were immersed;
and for fun and food, we did thirst.
We followed the ways of the world.

No, our possessions came first; yet for pleasures, we did thirst;
to be blunt, “in Myself” was I immersed.
Seems like all came before God, including “I”.

I loved to talk, but Myself was shy;
Me just loved to find things to buy.
We followed the ways of the world.

There. Nothing was more important than I, and in the very next line, our children came first. Makes McGonagall look... competent. These people think thay have something the rest of us lack, and that their God has delegated them to communicate this to us. His chosen ministers are sin-obsessed, sex-loathing, guilt-ridden, hell-haunted semi-literates - and they wonder why I'm not keen. Now, before you read the conclusion of the poem (it's a very long one, so I'm sparing you a lot of tedium here) here's an EFL-type reading task:

i) Guess what happens to the narrator in the end, and discuss your ideas with the person next to you, in English, please.
ii) Read and confirm or reject your anticipations.
iii) Were you surprised... really?

To the fire, we went—to eternal torment.
It is for all that follow the ways of this world.

There is no pride here.
Can’t you see? can’t you hear?
the weeping and gnashing of teeth?

The worms cover us; my tongue, it burns.
Oh, for a sip of cool water, my tongue does yearn!

The darkness is thick, my flesh is so sick.
Don’t follow the ways of the world.

So stupid was I, to reject God’s Son,
to reject His Word, so I could have fun.
I followed the ways of the world.

Well, don't pretend nobody warned you.