You think people who are real religious are on Jesus’s email list?  I mean, don’t tell me that you haven’t ever googled God.com.  You know it is out there, and while you’re not quite sure it is the real deally-o, you’re not exactly going to sign up for a membership with the email address of fuqoff@smallpp.com either.  You think Jesus gets spam?  OK, I see the problem with that query.  Every good Bible scholar knows that Jesus did turn unwanted pork products into Spam in the book of Pottedmeaticus; but that is not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about the slew of unwanted emails that anyone who has ever been on any site on the world wide webular inevitably gets.  If you’ve ever been unable to persuade someone of whatever sex to crank your generator and looked at porno sites instead, then you’ve got more Spam than all of the Hawaiian Isles combined.  Before I go any further, what is the deal with all those Sumo-American fools diggin’ the potted meat?  Not to say that an occasional grilled Spam and cheese sandwich isn’t tasty; but my understanding is, those homebiscuits throw it down like a snap n’ pop around the 4th O’July.  That seems so strange to me seeing as how they have all that fresh fish and seafood everywhere around them.  I mean, I wonder if the same girl scout that came up with Samoa cookies convinced the rest of her troop that “potted meat” did not mean it came in a clay pot.  Did she have to tell them it was a taste explosion manufactured far before the entrails hit the butcher’s floor?  If she did, you know that ho-tater has like the biggest “Dr. Phil” badge on her accomplishment sash that anyone short of Oprah with a magnifying telescope has ever seen.  By the way, aren’t sashes just supposed to tell you where you’re from, like in case you get lost at a beauty pageant, as opposed to throwing all your alleged Little House On the Prarie-esque accomplishments on the common folk who have embraced the 21st Century?  John Rambo made due with a tarp and knife, but these girl scouts don’t have to wear a sash to force me to acknowledge they cleaned toilets at a geezer commune, or picked up dog turds at the park for 3 hours straight on 8 non-consecutive Sundays.

Anyway, Jesus is allegedly about to show back up…I think…I don’t really know.  I know that he did at one time, but I’ve never had religion forced on me enough to know if he’s like Santa Claus – he comes back every year - or like David Lee Roth and Van Halen – he only comes back when he needs more money.  Do you think Jesus and the Easter Bunny know each other?  Maybe the Easter Bunny was like the first pet that the Head Hippie In Charge received from God; but after realizing that he might be ready to die for everyones sins, he still wasn’t too keen on the idea of having to take care of a pet.  Due to Jesus being unable to care for his – crucifixion wasn’t exactly a believable excuse back then – he was given a special power,  and placed on Earth to bring happiness and joy to the rest of us non-celestial bastards.  How else are you going to explain a rabbit that lays colored eggs?  Short of Leslie Nielson pulling those eggs with finches out of that chick’s mouth in Airplane, I haven’t seen anything similar.

I guess no matter what flavor you believe the big sucker in the sky is, you still can’t say how many licks it takes to get to the center.  But, I think most everyone can agree that the thrill of licking your way there is what brings us together as people.  I hope you have a surge protector, because you might see some lightning after reading this.  I am not responsible in tort, nor blasphemy.

There have been many times throughout my life when I felt the need to respond to negative stereotypes about people from my home state of Kentucky.  I’m not saying there aren’t Kentuckians who enjoy moonshine, guns, methamphetamines or the occasional romp in the hay with a first cousin, and actively avoid book learnin’, shoes, and dental appointments.  Yet I’ve always thought these types of people only represented a miniscule part of the Commonwealth’s total population – even though every “eyewitness” I see being interviewed on the local news makes it hard for me to maintain this belief.  In the traditional sense, politicians are elected to serve the “will or consent of its people.”  So by that logic, their actions should closely reflect the philosophy of the population they represent.  Well, if KY Governor Steve Beshear‘s support of a new project in the state is in fact indicative of the will of the people, I can not in good conscience defend my Bluegrass brethren any longer.  Via Wave 3 News:

Governor Steve Beshear announced plans on Wednesday to build a full-scale replica of Noah’s Ark as part of a new tourist attraction in Northern Kentucky.  Multiple sites are currently being considered, although property in Grant County of I-75 is said to be the most likely location.

“We are excited to join with the Ark Encounter group as it seeks to provide this unique, family-friendly tourist attraction to the Commonwealth,” said Gov. Beshear. “Bringing new jobs to Kentucky is my top priority, and with the estimated 900 jobs this project will create, I am happy about the economic impact this project will have on the Northern Kentucky region.”  I guess “not making your state a laughing stock” is nowhere to be found on Beshear’s list of priorities.  And considering the estimated population in Kentucky is over 4.3 million people, a measly 900 new jobs is not nearly as impressive as he tries to make it out to be.

A recent feasibility study conducted by renowned America’s Research Group has indicated that the Ark Encounter may attract 1.6 million visitors in the first year.  It took Kentucky’s other biblical wonderland, The Creation Museum, almost three years to attract 1 million visitors, so this number seems a little “ambitious.” In addition to the full-sized Ark, the complex will include a Walled City much like was found in ancient times, live animal shows, a children’s interactive play area, a replica of the Tower of Babel with exhibits, a 500-seat 5-D special effects theater (I would have thought 5-D would be considered blasphemy, considering you need science to build such a thing), an aviary and a first-century Middle Eastern village.

The builders behind this new theme park are seeking tax incentives under the Kentucky Tourism Act, which allows for up to 25-percent of the cost of a project to be recovered. Advocates of the separation of church and state say that any state involvement in the site may raise issues regarding the separation of church and state.

Michael Aldridge, Executive Director of the ACLU of Kentucky says:

“While it does not appear that this proposed tax incentive structure would violate the establishment clause as it has been construed by the courts, the wisdom of such a proposal can be called into question when Kentucky continues to struggle in providing adequate funding for our existing education system”.

The for-profit Ark Encounter project will be funded privately at an estimated cost of $150 million and is due to open in the Spring of 2014.

Perhaps the worst part of this proposed tourist attraction will be the impact it will have on other popular sites around the state.  I mean, who is going to wanna see the World’s Largest Bat, the grave of Colonel Sanders, or the Museum of Whiskey History when a “full-scale” replica of a magical boat large enough to house over 2 million species of animals for over a year is around?  I posted a comment on the site where I first discovered this ark-related article, and basically implied the Creation Museum has caused enough bad publicity for our state already.  Someone quickly replied to it by asking if I had ever even been to this “Museum of Unnatural History,” and suggested I go before passing judgment.  My reply was, “No, I’ve never been to the Creation Museum, but I have been to Disney World.  If you’ve seen one place filled with make-believe characters, you’ve seen ‘em all.”

(Language is NSFW)

(Silky: I feel like shite, so here is a blast from Mr. Smith’s writing past for you to enjoy again- or for the first time if you’re a newcomer to the site.) 

The X-Files prided their X’s on convincing the masses that tuned in every week that Scully and Mulder’s eXploits were based on some form of the truth.  If you bought into the theory that anything one of those shows were based on was even a tad bit factual, you’re dumb enough to believe the FBI would hire two people named “Scully” and “Mulder”, and then make them partners.  That’s almost as dumb as putting two people named David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson in a TV show together.  Well, that may be the only true thing you can take away from that paragraph.

Believing in stuff never gets you anywhere other than wherever you got yourself.  You can attribute your success or failures to bad luck, karma, mojo or a pissed off higher being, but that ain’t got nothin’ to do with nun of it.  The only thing you can believe in that is real is yourself.  Now, you may cause your own bad luck by continually breakin’ into convenient stores with the same M.O. (see H.I. McDunnough and the fact that he only met his wife because she took all of his booking photos after his being arrested EVERY time he robbed a store).  ”The sun don’t rise and set with the corner grocery store,” somebody once said to him.

You can cause yourself bad karma by stepping on bugs, killing things and eating animals according to Hindus; who also worship something with a bunch of arms named Vishnu.  They’ve got a thing for mystical elephants as well – if I remember correctly from the two semesters of Asian Philosophy that I had to take in college, because I got a D the first time (For the record for whoever is recording, I got an A- the second time).  Them fools don’t have to believe in that karma shit to understand their problems.  If you go around killing bugs, inevitably, you’re not going to be looking at what you’re doing and you’ll fall in a hole, get run over or possibly electrify your innards.  Not paying attention is the number one fiscal flaw out there.  Killing things will get you injured or killed yourself, because sharp objects or projectiles – and from my experiences, a lot of alcohol – are in abundant supply.  And anytime you mix any of those with humans, you may have yourself a mini-crusade.  Swords, pocket knives and bayonets don’t seem that harmful until some Knight Who Says Ni, pissed off redneck, or French & Indian War veteran are trying to behead, stick or shiv ya.  Now in terms of an elephant, the more you fool around with those things, the bigger chance you have of being an wet spot underneath their foot after being tusked by their ivory.  Maybe that is what that Fleetwood Mac song is all about?  You’ve all been on YouTube and searched for videos under the terms “elephants gone wild”.  I’ll bet a bushel of peanuts that you came up with scores of videos of those big, non-forgetting, mouse frightened bastards putting their gourds down and tearing out from all three rings and turning everything into a multi-ton circus.  None of these happenings have to do with your failure to believe.  They all have to do with your failure to believe an intuition that proximity to dangerous shit can equal pain or death.

Some people buy into the “it’s God’s will” theory of looking at shit.  Those people either have a whole lot of money or none at all.  If anything, I’d like to be in God’s will.  If you buy into it, he could theologically leave you the pearly gates, box seats in Heaven, or a deceptively evil Apple tree in an otherwise beautiful peace of property he owns.  He’d probably make Jesus the executor though, and if you buy into all that, you’d be screwed; because he’d be able to turn pleadings into orders, and if there was a will contest lawsuit, what jury is going to rule against a guy that walks on water into the courtroom?  Whereas it may seem futile, as a lawyer I’d say if you feel as though you’ve been left out of God’s will and want to challenge Joseph & Mary’s son’s take, file a will contest.  You probably wouldn’t be able to pick a jury though.  The judge prior to any trial asks all the participants to stand up, and asks them if anyone knows them or their family.  Who hasn’t heard of Jesus?  Next to the Beatles, he’s pretty damn popular.  After all the mistrials due to the inability to pick a fair and impartial jury, I’d file for a DNA test.  You know you’ve got him by the sandals then.  That shit is coming back mortal, and you’ve got yourself a good ole fashioned family dispute screwin’.  Talk about something you can believe in.

I think some militant strain of Muslims believes in some theory that – if you kill yourself in a jihad for Islam – you will go to heaven and be rewarded with 72 virgins.  What is so weird about this – other than everything about it – is that the number of amateurs is so specific.  I mean it’s like you die, and you’re up there using an abacus or calculator on your iPhone to make sure you don’t get screwed.  I guess 70 means blowing yourself up was blown way out of proportion.  Another thing strange about believing in this theory is that you’d believe you were being rewarded by being given custody of virgins.  If you’re going to blow yourself up in the name of Allah, you should be rewarded with ahere whole mess of pornstars from such educational sites as “Big Naturals”.  You don’t want a gaggle of chicks that you have to splain thangs to.  Less talky talky and more……(Fill in you’re own sacrilegious remark . I’ve always thought sacrilegious means when a man prays that he doesn’t get hit in the balls).

In terms of the big picture, it’s like having a favorite team in professional sports that sucks for extended periods of time (or forever). Cubs fans can believe that the Cubs exist, but after that, they don’t have much goin’ for them – besides knowing they are going to suck every year, and choke at some point.  But believing in the Cubs is more reliable than the 3:00 a.m. pee a man with an enlarged prostate takes, so I can understand.  To be clear, I’m not against anybody believing in nothin’.  And by nothin’, I mean somethin’.  Believing in either nothin’ or somethin’ is purely a personal decision, so you’ve just got to believe you are making the right call and go with it.  Be sure to pick a winner, or you can try to cover all your bases before the game is over.

I have mentioned the Current TV network on several different occasions before, but the focus of those posts have always revolved around clips from their show SuperNews. However, they have plenty of great specials and serious documentaries that premiere each week, and I caught one last night titled “YouTube Prophet”.  Instead of trying to explain this bizarre video, which follows a religious group that calls themselves the “Sons of Thunder”, the video description on their site provides all the background you need:

John Crowder claims he met Jesus while on an acid trip (who hasn’t?) and now travels the world getting people quite literally high on God. He and his disciples ‘drink’, ‘inject’ and ‘smoke’ Jesus and spend much of their time seemingly wasted and posting bizarre sermon videos on YouTube. This half hour documentary follows John and fellow preacher Ben Dunn as they come to the UK to hold a massive rave for the UK members of the ‘Christian Mystic’ movement. Attending the gathering are some self-proclaimed atheist party animals who want to see whether they can get high on Jesus, and two curious theology students…

A rather religified judge in this red cervical region of the sticks cancelled his regularly scheduled motion on hour for this Friday.  Knowing this particular man of the cloth – who incidentally wears a dress while on the bench – to be a believer in a power higher than the Yankees, I put one and three together and wondered what four?  Then it hit me.  This Friday must be one of them non-restaurant affiliated Fridays God is thanked for.  Yep, it’s Easter Season.  Jesus is back.  Go buy a ham.

Having no clue about any of the myths set forth in the book which mysteriously seems to always know what hotel room I’m staying in (it’s like being stalked by the all-time No. 1 bestseller), I asked someone who I knew if they knowed of what I thunk.  I inquired of this mythologically knowledgeable source if this Friday was that day when you’re encouraged to either eat Palm trees, cut them down, or do something with them.  “No, this Friday isn’t Good Friday” I was told in a succinctness that allowed me to move on without any second comings of thoughts.  And then the explanation bow broke, and my cradle was rocked with a bunch of Biblical knowledge that confused me into thinking it was Sunday.

Some of the actual highlights I remember were something about him carrying his own cross, some dude selling him out, people fucking with him on the cross, his being taken into some cave, some chicks showing up to do something, and being freaked out when they found he was gone.  I heard a “shant”, some kind of religious chatter I could only equivocate to “Hey batter, batter, swing batter” and then finally the shedding of tears.  This is obviously the Cliff Notes version of Easter 101 I was unaware I enrolled in.  The seriousness of the tone, rapid fire factual assertions and constant eye contact of this whole thing freaked me out.  It all started with a simple question, and turned into an episode of The PTL Club.  I fully expected to be hit in the face with a coat to heal my many medical maladies.  To attempt to get it to stop, I emptied the contents of my wallet onto a plate and tried to hand it over.  This was to no Holy Grail.  This guy was determined that I was going to be learned some Easter Goddamnit!

I busted up in Wikipedia’s trailer afterwards to try to find some specific stories and theories behind whatever it was I was told.  I’ll be honest with you, after looking at that page, I had even less of a clue about Easter than Columbo trying to solve a case without his rain coat.   I can’t make Jews or Gentiles out of the shit.  There are more versions and takes on this whole theory than the ruminations on Young Elvis v. Fat Elvis – I was somewhat surprised to see Elvis wasn’t mentioned in this whole affair.  I thought I had previously heard they had fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches at the Last Time Jesus Ate.

Apparently the whole Palm Tree worship goes down on a Sunday.  This makes sense considering a lot of very religious geezers migrate to Florida every winter.  And you thought it was just for the weather and tax breaks.  The Thursday, Friday and Saturday following forestry Sunday are all considered to be “Holy” days.  I hope to fucking God this doesn’t mean you have to watch that terrible Eddie Murphy movie ad museum.  If this is the case, and it is put on one of those never ending loops on TBS, I’d probably find myself praying to George Steinbrenner to kill me.  So what you’ve basically got here is that those keen on Jesus either didn’t really like to work, or wanted to force their beliefs straight down the gullet of everyone, because they take up a whole week with this shit.  I buy into the theory that damn near every Friday is holy in some sense of the word, because it signifies the end of the theoretical work week.  Thursday was kinda holy in college and law school, cause it meant you were going out, getting drunk, and probably failing at getting laid.  Wednesday isn’t even ranked in the latest Bible Weekly/Pastor’s Top 25 Poll, because there ain’t no good t.v. shows on; you’ve got to go to work on Thursday, and getting people to show up so they can be yelled at twice in one week is a hard gig to pull off.  Nobody in their right mind has ever accused Tuesday of being holy.  Tuesday only reminds you that you stayed up too late, got too drunk, and probably lost money on Monday Night Football.  Due to MNF, some have said Monday is worthy of being a holy of holies.  Whereas this assertion seems to have some merit, it also fails in that MNF only occurs for approximately 5 months out of the year.  If Hank Williams Jr, with his blue blockers and airbrushed beard, isn’t rehashin’ the same Goddman song he’s scattered, smothered, covered and chunked over the last 20 fucking years, then Monday ain’t worth a fuck.

I’m still that chic from Aerosmith videos over how the whole egg thing factored its way into this Easter equation.  I’ve never read nor been schooled on any reasoning as to why Jesus, God or anyone from Arimathea chose this.  Who would have thought jelly beans, chocolate rabbits, candied eggs and other assorted diabetic-inducing tastiness on a bed of faux grass nestled comfortably in an extra-large Chianti basket would further drive home the point that Jesus was back in town, and you better get your shit together.  Or, Converse-ly, why in the hell would any of these believers or Gospel singers want to hide eggs or any other type of sustenance from a motherfucker who just woke up from a three day dirt nap?  You know he was most likely hungrier than the real fat stoned guy who orders a pizza at every party he shows up to in college.  If eggs really do have some significance to any of this, when did the coloring become in vogue?  Was white, or farm house brown just not festive enough to celebrate some somebitch rising from the dead?  If you saw a motherfucker previously thought to be pulse free stroll back into town and belly up to the bar, do you think you’d be worried about putting makeup on the dozen Grade A Jumbos in your icebox?  Nah.  I doubt it.  Upon first glance, you’d be runnin’ out into the street, asking him to turn that 5 gallon stone jug of water into whore bait so you could plan yourself a sexual revival.  At least, that what I think a normal, horny, erectilely functional single cat back in the tunic and Birkenstock sportin’ years would do.

I dug Easter growing up, still find it enjoyable now, and am glad my son gets all Easterfied when this time of year comes around.  However, like I dug it, my father before me dug it, and his father before him was too drunk to realize it, I like the whole candy and gift giving version of it.  When I see a Cadbury Cream Egg, I don’t want anyone telling me the tasty cream filling and outer chocolate shell is representative of the first egg whoever ate after turning their life over to a proofless theory, or anything else similar.  I just want to be reminded that it fucking sucks these damn things only come out once a year, and I should eat as many of them as I can before they disappear until next year.  Unfortunately, these damn Cadbury’s aren’t like the bi or tri seasonal McRib.  You only get one chance, and you better make the most of it.  Jelly Beans shouldn’t be indicative of some kind of bean that some overly tanned and thirsty sufferers of something tried to plant only to have them grow into four course meals.  That’s all well and good if you want them to mean something, but a fucking jelly bean isn’t gonna change anything more than my blood sugar level.  I can’t think up any type of symbolism someone could get out of that environmentally hazardous, stringy plastic faux grass shit.  Unless Jesus had a jester, or some A.D. version of Bozo the Clown.  I personally think that shit was just invented to get rid of the remaining shreds of highly secret government evidence related to Studio 54 and aliens.

Well, I’ve got to go to hell now.  I think I’ve probably just secured a front row seat with a backstage pass.  At least I won’t have to stand in line with assholes like your average murderers, child molesters, and Kenny G.  I just hope I don’t get seated next to the dude who killed all those women in Florida.  I can never remember his name, it’s either Al or Ted Bundy.

Love, peace and Easter sweets…

A 7.o earthquake hits the Western Hemisphere’s poorest nature.  No, I’m not talking about the GPA of the dumbest motherfucker that ever lived at a state university.  I’m talking about a poor ass country being hit by an underground rumpshaker.  The capitol is Port-au-Prince, which looks like a telegraph message interrupted by an earthquake.  The most famous Haitian is Wycleff Jean, who is – deservedly so – their version of the 2nd coming of J.C.  The difference between him and the Almighty is that he’s been coming home and spending $$$ to make that hell hole a little less hellish, and ol’ J.C. has continued to play Dire Straits’ albums 24/7.  Unfortunately, Manger Man suddenly had a change in taste, and became a big fan of “Down Under” by Men at Work.  A bunch of Australians haven’t made this big of an impact on the world since the Great Foster’s Rebellion of Ought 32 O.Z.  As all of you know I’m sure, this was when Shane “Big Throat” Dundee led a campaign to oust Prime Minister Jim “Little Hands” Thickenbottom’s resistance to the oil-can sized swill.  Alcohol.  The cause of, and solution to, all of our problems.

Seriously, what the hell must you be thinking when you’ve been living in an old Kit-Mo selling twine for a living, just hoping you can save enough money cash to buy a bigger mule.  Then out of nowhere like a missed period, it all goes even straighter into hell for no rhyme and completely lacking in reason?  You know, the funniest thing is, on average, poor people are big believers in the existence of a higher beam – excuse me – being.  I absolutely, positively can’t imagine how in the fuck anyone remaining on what is left of that place doesn’t feel like He Hate Me.

Haiti is so poor, there is not even anything to loot.  Running around and stealing rocks just isn’t that cost effective.  Maybe this whole act of God was caused by – as Rev Robertson surmised – Haiti’s pact with the devil to free itself from the rule of the French.  Are you kidding yourself?  His makeup artist or hairpiece tech must have used some kind of new chemicals on the day Pat came up with this shit.  As if you’d even need the help of Luciricious to get away from the grips of the French.  Just tell them you’ve got a sling shot, a bunch of rocks, and you’re friends with the Germans, and they’ll tear out faster than Napoleon after not being tall enough to ride Splash Mountain.  If you’re a man of God, where do you come up with something like this?  Pacts with the devil?  You deserve to suffer because you wanted to get out from under the thumb of the French?  I can think of 700 reasons why this is ignorant.  1 through 699 is the realization the that preying on the minds of the masses who are asses will continue to allow him to live the high life here on Earth.  Number 700 is figuring out that – when you’ve lost some of your media luster – say some nutty shit and a good old-fashioned controversy will make you meaningful again.  How you could say something like this without wondering if that strange looking thing in the corner of your bedroom was The Happy to Kill Your Tired Ass Reaper?  Sure, it turns out to only be a pair of jeans and some socks; but if you’re that frightened by some garments in the dark, you obviously know your time card for hell is going to be punched soon enough.

There is nothing like religion to not explain anything, while giving you the answer for everything.  Natural disasters, plagues, and flocks of rabid geese are freaks of nature.  They are not caused by some jerk down the street saying “goddamn” too many times in a 24-hour period.  Earthquakes don’t destroy your whole country because you let your governmental Old Yeller loose on your masters, Pepe LePew.  If anything, Pat Robertson should have just plastered his wig, airbrushed his face, and said some shit like “In the Book of Dooty-on-me, the Lord said unto thoweth, Beezlebub shall noteth be hired to extract the hand of the Beret’d.”  See, it is just like the good Lord said, “You fuck with the French, an earthquake hits, and you’re only 20 miles from Belize.”

The earthquake that rocked Haiti on Tuesday was just one of the many natural disasters to hit this small Caribbean island over the years.  In fact, there have been 15 disasters that required some form of aid being sent from the United States since 2001 alone - including tropical storms or hurricanes in 2004, ’05 & ’08, and severe floods in 2002, twice in ’03, ’06 & ’07.  Scientists have pointed to quite a few factors that explain this disturbing trend, and the two main culprits involve Haiti’s location – one being that it lies within the normal geographical path of hurricanes, and the other is the presence of tectonics (consult your 3rd grade science book if you need a refresher).  The other causes of these catastrophes are a result of “man-made” problems that plague the country, such as deforestation, poor building standards, and a high population density – which all have a basis in the high poverty rate of this small republic. 

However, there are those out there who don’t put a whole lot of faith into explanations that involve frivolous things like “scientific evidence”, “research”, or “geology”.  People like 700 Club frontman Pat Robertson - a species I hope doesn’t exist - believe this earthquake was caused by a longstanding curse that is the result of a gentlemanly agreement the Haitian people once made with the supernatural Lord of the Netherworld.  That’s right.  According to Robertson, the Haitians continue to serve Satan because he was kind enough to rid their land of those dirty cheese eating surrender monkeys back in the 1800′s - crazy or not, it does sound like a pretty fair deal when you really think about it.. 

Note: I am in no way making light of the horrible situation in Haiti, but merely pointing out the tragedy of Pat Robertson having a media avenue to spread his insanity.  If you would like to help the relief efforts, take a look at the many organizations that are accepting assistance.  

Here are some more quotes from the best-selling Book of all-time, and my twisted take on their intended meanings (Part I once was lost, but can now be found here).

Quote #3: “But put forth thine hand now, and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face.”

Translation: Use the hand that God gave you to red touch some poor bastard like a child molester with poison ivy on Mother Fun and Her Four Fun Fingers; and after you make like a Catholic priest, the molestee will cuss you like a Catholic hitting a closed liquor store on the way to Midnight Mass.

Analyzation: I guess they had the Biblical version of Chris Hanson and To Catch a Predator, because this sounds like a sting operation to me.  Maybe it was called To Shackle the Unholy, and was hosted by the Apostle Entrapment.  These Biblicaphiles should have known something was up the minute they jumped onto their mule to head to town.  No descendant of the co-conspirator to the great Apple Eat Off In the Jungle would request overly fruity wine, an ounce of donkey snot, and some papyrus with pictures of detunic’d followers of the Word.  I bet Father Pete O’Phelia made sure all his altar boys lived by the virtue of these words.  This damn line seems to be saying you can jerk off guys at the the direction of God, and merely receive a cussing in return.  There apparently was no sex offender registry back then.  Maybe they had a “Recently Cussed List” posted all over hamlets to and fro throughout the Earth.

Quote #4: “After God (or Satan) kills Job’s first set of kids, he is given an even better set – with even prettier daughters!”

Translation: “After God (or Satan) kills Job’s first set of kids, he is given an even better set – with even prettier daughters!”

Analyzation: This nail wasn’t too hard to pull from the cross.  Sometimes murders do giveth and taketh away.  There were two main suspects in the murder of Job’s “first set of kids”, but there wasn’t enough evidence to charge either God or Satan.  I guess God and Satan take into account the appearance of a kid – or set of kids – before they afflict them with a disease, strike them with lightning, or have them freakishly stabbed in the heart with a crucifix by the Crucifix Searcher.  It is good to know that the alleged two most powerful beings in the sky like to break out a little Vulcan Death Pinch on an unsuspecting group of young ‘uns.  If you thought all the “be good for goodness sake” and Santa Claus shit kept your yutes in line, imagine if you told them, “Be good for your life’s sake, because if thou isn’t, you will be killed and replaced with new and improved models.”

Well, that is all I can do for now, because a guy that hired me expects me to be prepared for his trial on Friday.  “Innocent this, innocent that.  I didn’t do this, I might have done that.”  Having a license to do shit isn’t all it’s cracked up to be; because if you’re paid to do something, you have to actually do it.  Sometimes my Job can be stressful.  However, as long as I remember to walk upright, I should keep my suit from getting holes in the knees and being covered in dirt.  Being an erectus heterosexual is half the battle.  And with that, I’ll leave you with a biblically-related word and definition.

Sac-Religious: The act of praying to God you will not be hit in the sack by some foreign object, appendage, or piece of sports equipment that is seemingly headed towards your groin area. 

I began researching a little ditty unlike anything Jack or Diane thought up in the heartland called “God v. The Yankees”.  Like most things I proliferate, I come up with the gist, slap a title on it and allow the dane bramaged surmisings to flow freer than urine from a freshly catheterized geezer.  In this case, I had to do more research than normal because I know less about the Bible than Quantum Physics or Quantum Leap.  I’ve never had the religious equivalent of the Encyclopedia Britannica’s Greatest Hits shoved down my throat.  I’ve never had a Jesusectomy I guess you could say.  Maybe “speaking in tongues” was the Biblical way of describing someone who spoke with an electro larynx like Ned from South Park?  I imagine some poor tunic, sandal and sash-wearin bastard who smoked too much Franken Since laced with Myrrh who had Adam’s apple removed would have to use a freshly caught, still flipping and flopping fish to express their love for the lord.

Anyway, while attempting to research whatever this Book said happened, but didn’t really go down, I quickly noticed that – before I could express my reasons as to why the NY Yankees would beat God and his 8 position players in a best-of-seven series – I really needed to point out of how fucking weird God/Jesus/Jeebus talked.  So with that being said, let’s get onto some Bible quotes, and my interpretations that will allegedly cause me to be rotisserie grilled for all eternity.  I guess Satan is a lot like Ron Popeil with that goddamn Showtime Rotisserie Oven (Who would’ve thought slowly giving a piece of meat vertigo would be so tasty?).  He’ll just set you, and forget you.

Quote #1:  “There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was perfect and upright, and one that feared God, and eschewed evil.”

Translation:  There was a dude from that joint with the wonderful wizard, and he was the first guy to ever mass produce rolling papers.  He could roll a perfectly symmetrical joint and didn’t have a caveman too close to his woodpile.  Job was scared as hell of anyone who told him what to do.  He also liked cashews and Twizzlers.

Analyzation:  Have you ever seen a place called Uz on the map?  If so, are there natural hot springs of licorice-flavored water found on this land?  Only a person who was stoned at the time of their child’s birth would name them Job.  This would be in homage to their favorite rolling paper of choice and to something they didn’t have.  Jamaicans don’t even name their kids Job - it would make sense if they had twins though, because then they could say, “I got two Jobs mon!”  I thought the whole story behind most of whatever is in there is that nobody is perfect.  Since they described the Doobie Brothers as perfect and upright, doesn’t that implicitly mean there were imperfect, horizontal folks in existence?  And what’s the deal with fearing God?  If he is the almighty, benevolent Kingdingaling, why in the hell should we all take off running like the Japanese at the first sight of Godzirra?  It’s like the philosophy is, “This shit went down like I said it did, and if you don’t believe me I’m going to beat the BeJesus out of you.”  It’s great that he had nothing to with evil.  You’d expect as much from the non-crawling embodiment of perfection.

Quote #2: “And the LORD said unto Satan, ’Whence comest thou?’  Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, ‘From going to and fro in the Earth, and from walking up and down it.”

Translation:  Jesus or his daddy asked the biggest badass on the block where he was coming from when he rolled up in their celestial crib.  Satan aka Lucifer or Beetlejuice, told them that he had been parlayin’ and runnin’ thangs while on vacation.  Then Beetlejuice said his feet hurt from all the walking.

Analyzation:  Whoever Doled this shit out must have eaten some bad pineapple.  I don’t even write shit that’s this hard to handle.  You’d need to know Sanskrit, Ebonics, and a touch of Klingon to understand what whoever meant by this.  Apparently whoever was a big fan of the HNIC – Head Noble in Charge – because they felt felt the need to use the quill plucked from a pterodactyl wing to get the biggest and boldest effect.  I particularly enjoy the “to and fro” part.  It implies that whoever went to the barber shop and decided that instead of getting a mow, they would just let their wig go all natural[1].  I guess people stepped in shit in biblical times too, because other than mud or snow, you don’t talk about walking up and down in anything.  Maybe Satan’s Biblicalstocks had turd residue all over them, and the LORD smelled it; he then asked what part of hell he had been in, and why his feet smelled like shit.      

Old JC’s return doesn’t turn out quite like he expected:

Episode 2:

Episode 3: