That and the mouthpieces who like to post here. Plus the televangelists. Plus all the preachers, priests, ministers, rabbis and mullahs, plus all the writers from St Augustine (and all the patriarchs that came before him) to the bishops and popes of the modern era, plus Luther, Calvin and the Anglican scholars, all of the inspired writings of Judaism and Islam, all those of Eastern Orthodoxy, and all the Anabaptists and Creation Institute mouthpieces, Adventists, Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, the snake handlers and the "esoteric" mouthpieces like Alistair Crowely, Golden Dawn, Rosicrucians, Masons, the illuminati -- and of course the illiterati: Palin/Bachmann, Limbaugh/Beck, the Bushies, the Reaganites, and thousands more. Of course all of these mouthpieces are squawking that they alone are holy. That leaves it to the audience to decide which is "holier than thou". But then that process is short circuited by the imprinting on the young of one kind of squawk over another.
Like any good musician will explain, the secret to a good mouthpiece is a proper reed, properly cut and shaped, a good ligature, and the talent and skilled control of a practiced embouchre. Hence we can tell the oboes from the duck calls. But the ducks don't know shit from shinola. That makes the overall process entirely opportunistic. What about the 100 billion people or so who never heard anything but an "unholy" mouthpiece -- whether Buddhist, Shinto, Hindu, Jain, animist, shamanist, or lost to isolation in the Americas, Africa, the polar regions or of Indea and China, Oceania and Australia, or any of the countless religions long lost to antiquity -- from voice of Marduk booming in Hammurabi's head, commanding him to write onto stone and clay tablets the same commandments later rebranded as the "exclusively holy" patent and intellectual property of Judaism (and somehow Christianity) -- to the mouthpieces of Ugarit or Egypt to those brilliant insightful mouthpieces of the Golden Ages of Greece or Rome?
This casts God as all the more the freakish prankster, with an almost obsessive-compulsive attention to peculiar detail, as to the gauntlet his little monsters are supposed to run just to "get the message". The vast majority are listening to the wrong pitch, deluded in every respect, whereas there is one creme de la creme who happened to be in the right God forsaken mud hole at the right time, and for that reason alone they get the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And for some reason he abandoned them, led them into a cruel and crushing defeat against the Romans, at which time he changed his tune and gave them a brand new theme, in the all the more elaborate ornamentation of the Jesus story. And from there it split into a thousand species each clucking, cawing and crowing in its own familiar and predictable song.
Kind of makes us want to stick our fingers in our ears.