Friday, May 20, 2005

Do You Really Think That’s What Jesus Would Do?

You say you’re a religious person, that you’re only following the path of the Lord, but I have to ask you: do you really think that’s what Jesus would do?

Do you think Jesus would adorn his shitty pick-up truck with a Dale Earnhart “3” bumper sticker? Or festoon the antenna with an oversized American flag? I’m not arguing whether or not He’s a Nascar fan or whether He loves the United States—He loves everything and everyone.

I just don’t think His taste is quite as tacky as yours.

He certainly wouldn’t have a fully-loaded gun rack or half a case of empty Budweiser cans on the passenger side floor, that’s for sure.

Sure, Jesus had his doubts, but He didn’t really have anything to prove. At least He didn’t overcompensate for His lack of a solidly-held opinion like you seem to be doing with your bald eagle belt buckle and “These Colors Don’t Run” knitted beer cozy.

No, sir, I do not “take it up the ass” as you put it, but since you brought it up, do you really think that Jesus would get loaded on a Friday night with the apostles and go out searching for homosexuals to violently assault? My guess is “no.”

Again, my good fellow, I must correct you. I am also not a “panty-waisted bleeding heart” as you so eloquently put it. Though Jesus kinda was, insomuch as that I don’t think anywhere in the New Testament does the Prince of Peace indicate that our military—or any country’s—should invade every “towel-headed, ass-backwards shitwater” to teach those “sand monkeys” a lesson merely because we can.

What? So you really think He would berate the Burger King cashier because she couldn’t understand Aramaic?

I doubt it.

Look, sir, just calm down. Jesus said, “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” This doesn’t mean acting childish—like telling me to shut my fucking mouth before I get the shit-kicking of a lifetime— but to accept people for who they are.

It also doesn’t mean that you and your beer-swilling cronies should toss me into a busy thoroughfare while simultaneously giving me an atomic wedgie.

Ow. Ow!

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