What Would Jesus Eat?
I know less about religion than being an overweight, gay, vegetarian with a lisp. Alright, so I know about the overweight part, but I ain’t got a fucking clue about the other ingredients. I have been theorizin on a lot of the theories behind Easter lately. I don’t really know what has made me think about what I don’t know, but when I know, I’ll be sure to say how I figured out that I knew it. Beyond never buying into organized religion – I mean church and not some puss form of a sports league – I’ve especially never bought into ANYTHING other than medical problems limiting the style of chow you shovel down your alchy-hole. If a doctor isn’t tellin’ you to lay off something because your blood has the viscosity of gravy, or your ass is one cheeseburger away from its own congressman, eat what you want. You only get one life to be a fat ass, and you should make the most of it IF you’ve decided to take the fat cart down the path of life.
Quickly, if you’re so fucking fat that you have to ride an especially equipped and dumbed down Vespa to make your way around the goddamn grocery store, what does that say about you? If you’re that fat, the gravitational pull surrounding your body should enable you to pull shit off the shelves when you get within a foot or so – like some kind of “Fat Force”. The Force is strong in that fat one.
Anyway, why is a ham the choice for religious feasting to celebrate Jesus’ RSVP’ing dinner? I thought he had some kinda connection to Jewish people or something. My whole theory on Jesus’ – is that the proper way to say Jesus possessed something? And I ain’t talkin’ about pre-exorcism here people – bein’ down with the Jews is based on what I learned from a Kinky Friedman song called, “They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Anymore”. Damn good song. Listen to it, and once you get passed what you initially think is a whole mess of racism, you’ll see the after school-like message contained therein. But – to get back on Target like a discount retail chain – why would whatever flavor of whoever want to flog swine in honor of His Holyfullness comin’ to grub out, if the mere presence of the fare was going to piss them off? Only thing I can think of is that ham was the cheapest of all the dinner meats, and the sacrileligiosity of it was eclipsed by its cost effectiveness. What the fuck is a motza ball anyway? I originally thought it was some sort of spherical meat like object made by a person from Sweden with bad teeth and a lisp. Apparently, it is something made out of something other than meat, and it tastes like something else entirely different. They have the color of dried dog turds. Not quite chalky enough to write with or mistake for crack, but just the right color to keep you from stepping in/on it.
If one of the basis of you getting into your version of Valhalla is your diet, you should give up on that shit and risk going to hell for eating what you want. Can you imagine being in the chow line waiting to take a number to get deep fried for the rest of eternity, and pulling the number right after Hitler and just before John Wayne Gacy? That ain’t nothin’ to clown around about. I say shave your Charlie Chaplin mustache and tell the powers that is to suck your nuts, cause what you ate shouldn’t have relegated you to the same fate as a couple of first ballot Evil Hall of Famers. Timothy McVeigh says, “I’m in here for blowing up a federal building, and killing a bunch of people. I deserve to die and go to hell.” Jack Jacobson says, “Yeah. I know where you’re coming from. I ate a pig in a blanket, and a fucking corn dog during Sha Na Na. I knew I shouldn’t have had that extra glass of Manischewitz either.”
What is this whole shit about not being able to eat meat on Fridays? You go from considering the swine a sacred bounty worthy of all those who arise from the dead, to telling all your believers to lay off meat on Fridays for some goddamn reason? Even if the cow, lamb, turtle, squirrel or Sasquatch was tortured before you ate its flesh, you had nothing to do with that shit. Culpability doesn’t start with digestion – unless you’re fucking Jeffrey Dahmer, or a member of a rugby team who survived a plane crash.
As a result of the almighty makin’ all these menu choices, believers keep themselves from going to hell by eating fish-like sandwiches from McDonald’s. I think you can get two, medium fries and a vat of the beverage of your choice with a #3 McHeaven Meal. At what point in the drive-thru line do you start to question your faith? When the garbled, Stephen Hawking with a crick in his computer voice comes over the speaker asking in tongues what Jesus wants you to eat? Or is when you realize salvation comes in small, medium and large sizes? When the hell is someone going to quit worrying about going there, and start questioning what kind of a fucking fish is square? They all end up breaded, but I ain’t never seen a free swimming square fish. Basically, the crux of a heavenly mandated meal should not look like something conjured up from forcing a bunch of random fish flesh through a fucking Play-Doh mold. I guess if you were fishing for one of these seasonal square fish, you’d just have to put a glob of tartar sauce on your hook – because you never see one that’s not covered in that shit.
Well, I’m getting back in the orientation line in hell. Mussolini is bitching about having to save my spot, and fucking Ty Cobb has already fired off a couple of rounds in my direction. Love, peace and here comes Jesus week…
