I theoretically posit a God that doesn't like "tacky".

This is a collection of hit'n'run stories I couldn't help but notice:

Six-Story "Butter Jesus" goes down In Flames--Church will Rebuild

That isn't the actual title of this story from WKRC in Cincinnati, but it sums up the tale of a veritible icon of the Internets--the "Butter Jesus" or "Touchdown Jesus", a rough-hewn, six-story, upper-torso of the Redeemer with arms out-stretched, tacky roadside attraction, that to many, summed up the ostentatious "badness" of much religious "art"--which was struck by lightning and burned, as if smitten (smote?) from above. I'm kind of hoping they change the design a little, to something a tiny bit more tasteful. Maybe they could go with "glow in the dark"?

In other news, the Painter Of Light was apparently "Lit" in this story from Gawker, which is where I honestly get a lot of my news, anymore.
I hate ripping on an artist just trying to make a buck, but, damn, he paints some funky "twee"-looking nonsense. You just expect a pixie to come sparkling out of his ultra-flourescent flower bushes. And why are the windows of all his buildings lit up like that? In Kincade-ville, folks are simple and spiritual, but their electric bills are ridiculous. For the record, DUI, bad. But for me, inspirational prayer-garden, solitary chapel, snowy Christmas big-ass cottage schlock is like Chicken Soup for the Taste-Impaired and Religiously Bent.

Although this story has nothing to do with "art", it has a bunch to do with "tacky"--

Mormons Found Guilty on 13 Counts of Prop 8 Malfeasance, Fined by FPPC

To my way of thinking, a whole group of religious busybodies prying their way financially and politically into the personal lives of hundreds of couples in California strikes me as awfully tacky. Not just illegal--tacky. They could have minded their own business, saved their money, and tithed to something good like malaria nets for people in Africa or something. But instead, they had to propagandize about who grown people chose to make their official life-partners, and that is sad. But really? Tacky. Tacky. Tacky.