Thursday, August 20, 2009

INTENSELY DISLOYAL TO BABY JESUS

Yesterday I gibbered on about Calvinists, as you probably noticed.
One of my regular readers (Spiros) also noticed the posting, and commented: "I am a goy and I am intensely disloyal to the little baby Jesus."
Which gave me the title to today's post.


"I am a goy and I am intensely disloyal to the little baby Jesus."


Neat-o.
It is quite possible that whatever search-programs or blog-aggregators are favoured by the born-again fundie morons will now turn up this post, because of the key-word in the title, and yield me tonnes of angry vituperation.
Misspelled, ungrammatical, totally batty.

And just ever so entertaining.

I like reading hate mail.

People who write hate mail often say goodbye to mister Spell-check, and hello to mister I-need-medication.

Yes, I am a sadist - I enjoy poking at idiots.

And I too am intensely disloyal to the little baby Jesus.



BAD JESUS, NO BISCUIT!

Neither the little baby Jesus, nor his evil twin grown-up Jesus have any place in my life.
I have not found him, I have no intention of finding him, he can remain lost for all I care.
If he ever finds himself, I'm sure we'll all find out.

I suspect he's actually in an ashram south of Pondicherry contemplating his navel. The sign on the door says 'gone fishing', and his mail is being returned by the current tenant - Jesus doesn't live here any more. Stop forwarding your questions, he really couldn't care less.
He's almost certainly blotto on bhang, like ninety percent of all the self-indulgent westerners who seek spirituality in India. He probably doesn't know what day it is, and may not even realize what month.
"Tewdally out of it, man, like wow!"
Bhang.


In other news, today's profound religious revelation is that navel lint is caused by the alignment of stomach hairs - as you move and twist, the stomach hairs guide the minute textile fibres towards the navel, where they come to rest. At the end of the day there will be a fuzz-clump there.

The innocent baby Jesus probably did not have navel lint, but grown-up evil Jesus does. Once he wakes up from his zotsed-out stupor, tell him that someone else already figured it out. Stomach hair. Waxing solves that problem. Hallelujah.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I say this with the utmost respect but a firm commitment never to again be a yes man. What the Sam Hill is going on here?

I liked it better when you were just a “Traveler on this Planet” as you so eloquently put it (I never forget). A religious Switzerland of sorts.

Suddenly you’re expressing an opinion on a subject you have always so deftly avoided. Am I missing a point here or did you just wake up on a side of the bed? Bummer.

Kevin

The back of the hill said...

What the Sam Hill is going on here?

Hi Kevin,

Well, I got "coultered". Read something Ann Coulter wrote, and threw a book against the wall. And now, to put it in culturally resonant terms, I'm on a crusade.

Won't last long, though. Blogs are the most ADD of media.

Oh, plus I'm trolling for slope-brows. Think of this post, and the one immediately preceding it, as chum. You know, the bucket of bloody bits cast into the water to attract sharks and bottom-feeders. Sometimes I like to poke the carrion-eaters for fun.

Telmac said...

[]=french accent

[monsieur would you like some] whiiiiiz [on zat c'racker]

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