Mel Gibson, Joe Rogan, and a Shroud of Perplexity
Mel Gibson is more perplexing than Elon Musk’s inauguration salute.
His dad, Hutton, won Jeopardy and then returned to win a steroidal match against other previous winners. He was a genius, and he was a heretic (a Sedevacantist). I don’t think his son is either, but the Mel fruit didn’t fall far from the Hutton tree.
Catholicism flows through Gibson’s veins, but sometimes you wonder if the effect is healthy or heroinesque. He consults Catholic priests, but he also consults with shamans who heal him with forces that strike me as dark as the demons that drive the denizens of Davos. He’s 68 and fighting against the old man, following today’s Medicine 2.0 movement, but has a history of abusing his body. He lives in Malibu but detests California. He’s revered and hated by fellow Hollywoodites.
It all made him a perfect Joe Rogan guest this month.
Gibson rambled sane; he rambled insane. Rogan was normally engaged but occasionally speechless.
At my Catholic book club meeting last week, one of the guys said, “Rogan is beginning to connect the dots.”
I agreed. The fiercely anti-Catholic/ex-Catholic Rogan is at least squinting in the direction of the Church these days. I don’t think he’ll revert, but if BetMGM offered good enough odds, I’d be tempted to wager twenty.
That’s another reason Gibson was the perfect Rogan guest. Gibson hails from right field . . . and left field and center field and all fields in between. One of those fields is Catholicism, where he has one foot planted firmly. The other foot flails away, ready to come down wherever the Twister spinner of his mind tells him to put it.
Yet he’s convincing in his Catholic beliefs. Cogent, charming, and far more winsome than you’d think possible for a guy who holds the record for the drunkest anti-Semite rant of the 21st century.
Rogan is a novelty enthusiast. It’s part of his schtick, but it’s a sincere schtick. No theory, explanation, conspiracy, heresy, hoax, or revisionist history sits beyond the pale of JRE discourse. The podcast world’s biggest mystery is why George Noory hasn’t been a guest yet.
Combine Rogan’s love of novelty with that walking and talking curiosity shop called “Mel Gibson,” and you might, just might, have an access point for the Holy Spirit.
Early in their discussion, Gibson told Rogan about the white smoke turning black during the 1958 Papal Conclave. Gibson speculated that a validly elected Pope was removed through backroom (read: Satanic) shenanigans, and then the orthodoxly relaxed John XXIII was elected. Rogan loved it. Conspiracy, oddity, heresy: the story checks more boxes than a gynecologist.
Gibson later told Rogan about the Shroud of Turin. Rogan is clearly perplexed by the Shroud, and it’s at least the second time an unconventional Catholic has hit him with its compelling story (Diane Pasulka was the other). The fact that a guy like Gibson believes it’s the real Shroud? Not even Lex Fridman could make it more compelling for a guy like Rogan.
Gibson joked during the Rogan interview that he hoped his Malibu home was safe from the California inferno. It wasn’t. In fact, later reports said his home was on fire at the moment Gibson was joking about it. It was a fitting coincidence because that interview was, to borrow from current slang, fire.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning . . . or maybe a conspiracy. I’ll spin it up and see what I can weave. Maybe then Rogan will invite me on the show and I can tell him about the conservative Russell Kirk’s encounters with ghosts . . . and his intensive veneration for the Shroud.
The Adventures of Beer Man is a humorous story about a man who believes in the innate goodness of drink and how he shares this belief with others through his improbable persona, Beer Man. Underneath his efforts runs a constant theme: a quest for joy.
