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.

(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.

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.      

After being on the air for twenty seasons, it isn’t a stretch to say the quality of The Simpsons has declined in recent years.  At one time, you couldn’t pry me away from the TV screen when Springfield’s favorite family hit the airwaves each Sunday night.  And even though I rarely watch any of the new episodes anymore, it would still get my vote as one of the best shows on TV right now.  One of the things I have always liked about Mr. Groening’s creation is the mixture of low & high brow comedy, and the writers’ willingness to spotlight issues that other shows usually shy away from.  One of the taboo subjects that continually pops up in the show (and one which I also like to discuss) is the topic of religion.  Since there are countless instances from The Simpsons’ archives that feature some type of religous dialogue, it’s difficult to pick the best one – but this excerpt from a 2006 episode titled ”Monkey Suit” is definitely one of my personal favorites: