Wednesday, June 09, 2010
The Day I Met Jesus
It happened at the National Rifle Association convention in Pittsburgh back in early May, 2010. There he was, standing in the entry, in his purple robes and all, the brilliant corona around his head, the headband, the sandals, the long hair, the beard, the whole mix just like you see in the pictures of him. It was really something. But, people were keeping well clear of him, giving him funny looks. I wondered how he got through the airport dressed like that.
I said, ‘Hey! You are dressed up just like Jesus. You look just like him too. What’d they do, hire you to put on a program or something?’
“No, I’m the real thing. I’m Jesus Christ himself.” he said with a depreciating smile, then showed me the scars on his hands and his feet. He pulled up his robe and showed me the wound from a Roman spear.
“Nah,” I said laughing. “Bullshit! You’re just a great act!”
“Nope. Sorry, Charlie.” he smiled humbly. “I’m the real deal alright. What do I have to do to prove it? Turn water into wine or something?”
“That ought to do it.” I said with a mild, sarcastic sneer.
He walked over to a vending machine, twinkled his fingers over the buttons until a plastic bottle of cold water dropped into the bin. He plucked it out, twisted the top off, handed it to me and asked me to taste it. It was water for sure.
He took the bottle back, shook it a time or two until some little sparkly things shot through it, and instantly it changed color into something looking very much like wine. “Taste it.” he said as he handed it back to me.
It was wine, no mistake. It blew me away. I dropped to my knees and clasped my hands before my chin.
“No, no, not here.” he laughed quietly as he reached out both hands and lifted me to my feet. He must have overdone it because I remained there, nervously suspended a few inches above the floor until he noticed and pulled me back down, looking around to make sure no one else saw. “I just wanted to come and check out the convention and these Tea Party folks.” he said.
“What can I do to help?” I asked in my most worshipful manner.
“Well, everyone’s avoiding me like the plague and giving me the evil eye. I wanted to ask a few questions to learn about all this. And, I’d be happy to answer anything I can for you.” he said. “Can you help me?”
“Are you kidding?” I said fervently. “After what just happened, what you just did? Anything you want I can do for you, I’m your man. Ask away.”
Our interview went something like this:
Jesus: “Well, first off, just who are all these Tea Party folks?”
Me: “Near as I can tell, they are a bunch of moronic, dissatisfied people angry and scared about just about everything, and especially taxes.”
Jesus: “Sounds like fertile ground for me. I do well with stupid, dissatisfied, greedy and insecure folks.“
Me: “If you don’t mind my asking Jesus, isn’t an NRA convention an odd place for you, Jesus Christ, the man of Peace? I mean what with all this heavy artillery, guns and all?“
Jesus: “Not at all. I’ve always been a firm believer in ‘Peace Through Military Aggression and Fire Superiority’. The Romans did damned well with it. Besides, as you ought to know, it’s the Christian way. That, and swords and fire and brimstone and don’t forget high explosives, chemical weapons and poison. All just good, standard Christian stuff.“
Me: “Well, what about all that anti-immigration stuff the Tea Partiers are screaming about? Aren’t you, Christ, for ‘all the people, black and white, they are precious in his, I mean your, sight?’“
Jesus: “Well, sure. So long as they are good, white, American Christians, like the ones who founded this great nation. I mean those illegals are a bunch of Spics and Mex’s, right? Don’t even talk to me about Islamics or Muslims, raghead folks like those.“
Me: “But, the Mexicans are mostly all good Catholics too.“
Jesus: “Catholics, Schmatholics. There’s more’n one kind of Catholic you know. If they ain’t American, don’t speak English and they ain’t white, they don’t count. I’ve even got my suspicion about those irritating Irish bastards, but I’m withholding judgement since they are white and do speak a mongrelized form of English. Say, would you like some more wine?“
Me: “Oh, yes, thanks. But, what about social and economic justice for everyone?“
Jesus: “Glenn Beck says those are just code words for communism.“
Me: “Glenn Beck? You listen to Glenn Beck?“
Jesus: “Sure. I tune in every day. Wouldn’t miss it. He’s a good Christian of the Mormon brand and he’s doing great things for the cause. I hear he’s gonna be here too, along with Sarah Palin and Oliver North.“
Me: “Sarah Palin? Do you actually subscribe to her brand of Christianity? You know, casting out demons, the world is only 6,000 years old, no evolution, all that kind of silly stuff?“
Jesus: “Sure. That gal is spot on. She may be dumb as a sack of rusty hammers, but man, she’s hot. For her age and all, I mean.“
Me: “Hot? Jesus, aren’t you supposed to be above all that? I mean utterly chaste and all?“
Jesus: “You kidding? I’m a man, aren’t I? Where in Hell do you think folks like Jimmy Swaggart, Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker and Ted Haggard learned all their perverted tricks? Not that I go for that man on man stuff. That's not to mention pedophiliac priests, but they are a whole different category. You don’t think I ought to milk my position and popularity for all it’s worth? After all, hot is hot . . .“
Me: “Well sure, I guess, but I never thought . . .“
Jesus: “Ah, all you lay persons try to think way too much. Loosen up. Learn to live a little. You only go around once you know.“
Me: “But, what about Paradise?“
Jesus: “Oh that. I ought not to tell you this, but no one would believe you if you said anything, so why not? Actually, Paradise is just a myth, a big fairy tale. Like election promises. It’s to get you to sign up. It’s worked like blazes for centuries too, that and a well orchestrated fear of hell fire. Only thing is, I wish we’d thought of that 72 virgins stuff like those Muslims. That’s a sure fire winner there. They got us on that one.“
Me: “Muslims? You mean there’s more than one Heaven?“
Jesus: “Listen, Shit For Brains! I told you it’s all just a myth! It is in fact, lot’s of myths! Stories for the gullible! What thinking, rational person could actually believe all that crock of hooey? We all, all of us in the God business, get together in annual meetings to come up with ways to fool the faithful and get their tithes. But, we’re having some trouble with those damned fool snake handling idiots in Appalachia. Lately, they’ve been sending their money to some guy named Graham over in North Carolina.“
Me: “Gosh, I . . .“
Jesus: “Yeah, I know. Don’t take it so hard.“
Me: “But, if there’s no Paradise and no Heaven, where do you and God live?“
Jesus: “Well me, I live in Salt Lake City. Got six wives there, and four concubines. Pretty decent, huh? God, he lives over in Virginia Beach next door to Pat Robertson. Helluva damned golfer, that one. Whooee!"
Me: “How do you travel? Do you like vaporize and stuff? Like teleportation?"
Jesus: “You’re kidding, right? Nah, I usually go with Delta. They’ve got the best mileage plan I think. Last year I went all the way to Australia and back - didn’t cost me a damned dime.“
Jesus: “Yeah, which reminds me. I been having one bitch of a time what with wearing these robes and all and dealing with those obtuse, pea-brained TSA people. They must have checked the no-fly list a dozen times before those fools finally let me on today. Got me confused with some guy named 'Hay-zus Gonzalez' or something. Do you suppose you could help me get a set of nice casual clothing and maybe some decent shoes? Nothing fancy, mind you. I’m a pretty simple guy.“
Me: “Sure thing, Jesus. Let me see what I can do. Now, how’s about some more of that good wine?“
Jesus: “You got it.“