Thursday, May 20, 2010

Miracle or Dick Move?

Welcome, my beloved Bible brethren. I hope you all had a lovely weekend. Mine was peculiar but not altogether unpleasant. However, that does remind me, I need to do a sermon soon about the evils of mixing alcohol with men in heels.

Moving on; someone brought up to me after last week's sermon that I have been focusing too much on the Old Testament for the last several sermons, and that it was quite disturbing.

I suppose I should apologize; the Old Testament can be quite intimidating. What with all the killing, rape, and incest which, while extremely sexy, is not particularly family oriented. Which, if you think about it, is kind of ironic. The Bible isn't family-friendly enough for you, huh? How about I whip out some Japanese tentacle porn?

I kid! Today, in the interest of fairness, I will be focusing on exploring a particular passage in the Bible of which many of you are familiar. The story is of the resurrection, by Christ, of Lazarus.

This story is in the Gospel of John, Chapter 11. Now this is a sweet story on the outside, but don't be fooled! Because when that sexy red dress comes off, that's not the delicious sticky goodness of a Cadbury Egg on your tongue. No. That's the salty, bitter taste of drunken gay sex. And let me tell you, it doesn't taste like good, it tastes like crazy.

So, Jesus comes to this town somewhere in Bibleland and one of the two billion Marys and her sister Martha are mourning the death of their brother, Lazarus who, it turns out, has been dead for about 4 days.

So Jesus, being the nice guy he is, raises their brother from the dead because the ladies' faith is strong and because Mary dried Jesus' feet with her hair. That was rare back then, you know. These days you can get it for maybe $10 at the right places. Of course, you have to worry about lice. But lice don't matter to Jesus; he'd just turn them into fast-actin' Tinactin, or some kind of holy cocaine that he'd snort off of hooker-Mary's thigh.

Anyway, here's where I'm going to stop with the story. First--credit where it's due--Mary and Martha are thrilled to have their brother back. And that's great, because they're happy and Jesus looks good.

In fact, that was part of the reason he did it, so people would stop doubting that he was the Son of God. And, wow, did that backfire! But that's a story for another day.

After reading this recently I began to ponder. Have you ever been forced awake from a great dream? Remember how disappointed you felt or how badly you needed to pee? Now multiply that by infinity billion because that's what Jesus just did to Lazarus. This guy was dead! His soul was in heaven! Eternal Bliss! That's like about 50 billion orgasms happening all at once and never, ever ending.

So while Mary and Martha had a nice favor done for them, Lazarus got brought back from Heaven to the shit-hole that was Bethany.

Now what can we take from this story? At the very least, I suppose, Lazarus had something to look forward to again. Though, if I were him, I would be pissed at my sisters.

Sure it would make a hell of a tale to tell at the pub. All the guys asking poor Laz to tell them about the time he died for the fiftieth time. And poor Lazarus would whistfully tell them about how fantastic Heaven was and end up in tears crying out, "God! Take me back! Kill me, please!" And some douchebag would call him a lady. Well, let me tell you something, jerkoff, women don't have a monopoly on crying!

I suppose Lazarus was just taking one for the team, because, according to the book of John, it was because of this miracle that the Pharisees finally decided Jesus had to die or else the Romans would destroy them. And if Jesus didn't die, then none of this would've happened and we'd all still be Jewish, and then I'd only be talking about the Old Testament, and you'd just have to sit there and fucking take it. Bitches.

Anyway, the youth trip to Tijuana has been cancelled due to the ongoing drug war at the border towns in Mexico. Instead, they'll be going to Windsor, Canada to see how clean city streets can be and to protest all the gambling we adults will certainly not be participating in.

Also, the bake sale was incredibly successful and I appreciate the two of you who participated. We earned almost $10 off of stale moon pies and half a Twinkie we sold to some stoned teenager.

We'll be cooking up some further fund raisers. Possibly a carwash, but--despite all the suggestions--there will be no bikinis.

Oh for Jesus' sake. Stop cheering, assholes! That's not what I meant!

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