Hi Steve - Welcome to Heaven

Hi Steve - Welcome to heaven.  I hope you like the room I made just for you.  I've been saving for some time.  If there's anything you don't like, please feel free to modify it however you see fit.

Now that you're here, I actually have some competition.  Now I know how Bill Gates felt while you were mingling with the mortals.  However, I know you will only make me better.  Steve, would you consider being on the board of Jesus! Inc.  It would be an honor.

I gave my good friend Mitch Albom a call and asked him to amend his book 'the six people you meet in heaven' to include Steve Jobs.  Of course, this will require a title change to, 'the seven people you meet in heaven.'  I know it's a pain in the butt.  But Mitch - seriously - how often do you get to include Steve Jobs in any of your work?  Exactly.

I spoke to pope benny of the brotherhood of the priesthood.  As soon as I called, Benny was like, "Dude - I am so glad he died.  I can finally make him a saint."  Already planning to create a statue to place in quad of vatican city?!?!  "Don't you think you're putting the cart before the horse? I got dibbs on him.  I made him. I inspired him.  I brought him home to relieve him of the suffering satan caused.  Mine.  All mine."  From there, it got really ugly...  I said, "You know what, Brother Steve was never a member of your secret organization."  Kind to think of it, I don't know if he was an official member of mine because he practiced Buddhism.  Nah.  It's cool.  I rubbed the buddha's belly and he's jiggy with that.  Mr. Peaceful doesn't like confrontation.  Sucker.

Less I digress...

And once again - I provide a special event where a majority of the somewhat industrialized population again realizes the frailty of life and that it should be cherished and lived to the fullest.  It'll be another couple months before I pull another rabbit from my hat.

Oh, wait... Hang on...  I gotta take a call.... on my godPhone.  I think It's Johnny Ive - He wants to ask Steve about the design of his room.  Later Gater - Jesus!

So, now that Brother Job is home, I think every single one of us should have a moment of electronic silence to honor Brother Job

Baskin Robbins' flavor savor

Grace to you which passes your understanding.  My first question is....  What happened in Norway?!?!  This nutjob rents a truck, loads it up with fertilizer (my people tell me it was Scott's Turf Builder), some diesel fuel and a detonating device...  Drive it to a building and KaBoom!  Not like the playground KaBoom! but the KaBoom KaBoom.  Mayhem everywhere.  Body parts flying around, etc...  Another OKC type event.  Remember lost child McVey - I think McVey and Breivik were having conversations from the Dark Side. 

Then Breivik goes to Fantasy Island to shoot up a bunch of vacationers, tourists and campers.  SO not cool.  Last I heard it was a lot of people shot up....  Mr. Roarke is not a happy camper.  Neither am I.  Kind to think of it... I don't know who's more upset - me or him.  Why is it these nutjobs have such issues with the government and the "religious right?"  I mean seriously.....  Which brings me to my next topic of discussion.

Did you know Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield along with Burt Baskin and Irv Robbins have many flavors of ice cream?  So many that they can't even make them all at the same time, nor do they want to.  Some of them were outright horrible.  Have you been to Ben and Jerry's little creamery in Vermont?  They have a graveyard full of flavors that pretty much sucked.  So they don't make them anymore.  Burt and Irv have all sorts of great flavors, but their display case freezers only hold 31 flavors.  Actually, that's impossible because the freezer is two deep, meaning they gotsta have to 32 flavors.  Maybe they're counting the new soft serve in the Taylor machine on the counter?  I dunno.  Kinda think of it, in his later years, Burt grew a little flavor saver (Jerry had one long before he started making ice cream).  The reason for this was all about the sampling of the latest concoctions.  Say for example, they came up with a peanut butter blend of ice cream.  They'd get some dribble on the flavor saver to same after dinner to see how it 'finished off' meals.  Worked out rather well.  

Less I digress.....

All these people worship me.  Then there are the other people (if you can call them that) gung ho on that Allah guy - what a loser.

Less I digress again....

So my worshippers.  We've got this Tower of Babel thing going on.  All these different variations on a theme by Jesus.  There's some story added to my self help guide for successful living about the tower eventually falling because there was conflict between the variations - kinda like playing Jenga with Jesus?!?!  

Well brothers and sisters...  I'm here to tell you I and my movement are best compared to ice cream.  My ADD is acting*SQUIRREL*up.  Argh.  Ice cream.  The believers love the stuff.  Some of my franchisor's serve it and it's a hit with everyone, especially the fatties and the kids.  Some of them should start eating frozen yogurt.  

Dangit.  Less I digress..

Ice cream.  It's all about ice cream.  I got my own truck.  Do you like it?  I do.  Well, except for the melted cone on the roof....

See - all ice cream is made with a foundation of creme, milk, eggs, sugar and some butter.   Whip it together with some flavoring, freeze and wahlah...  Icecream.  You can add nearly everything into the foundation to make a new flavor.  Like mangos and vanilla wafers mixed with black licorice for example.  It may be yucky to some, but the flavor has a cult like following.  Go figure.  

Here's the thing.  My movement is a lot like a bowel....  Oops, I mean bowl...  I don't care what flavor you're eating just as long as the base is solid.  Creme, milk, eggs and sugar.  Or in my case, peace, love and forgiveness.  If you got the basics, you can't go wrong.  The basic ingredients make it (and me) what it is.  Get it?!?!

Now if you go somewhere and they're trying to pawn off Gelato.  I hate to tell you.  Gelato is not ice cream.  It is lacking a key ingredient...  Butter.  See - someone altered my base and it doesn't even resemble what it started out to be.  Let's be clear...  Gelato is NOT ice cream.  Gelato is a cold, fluffy, whipped hot steamy mess.  If you're looking to play with fluffy and whipped, use whipped cream.  Katy and I love playing with the stuff - as do most couple looking to spice things up.  

So, the gist of our conversation is I don't care what flavor of ice cream you eat.  Just as long as you eat me Ice cream made with pureness.  

Love the frozen one - Jesus. 

Summer Time!

Word to my peeps (and their kids)...  Summer is one of my favorite times of year.  "Why?" you ask?  Because...  Because it is the time of our nation wide rally for new recruits into our little club....  Vacation Bible School.  The board at Jesus, Inc. (NYSE JSUS) was smart of rubber stamp their approval to have our franchisees host these events.  Live music, coloring books, stories, singing, arts and crafts - combined with free play time at the playground or the indoor playscape (depending on the success of the franchisee).  All the things to keep kids thoroughly entertained and engaged in my message and what we're trying to accomplish with our movement.

It's like Godly Daycare with a message.  My message.  Indoctrinating the youngin's.

Did you ever see the movie "Jesus Camp."  Our summer programming is quite similar - just not to the extreme.  I remember the seen in the movie with Ted Haggard.  Man - brother Ted.  He was so brilliantly until he started spewing all the hate towards gay people.  Then he gets caught in a frequently gay massage parlors and everyone gets all wound up to a tizzy.

Let me tell you, I never said a man and a woman are the only one's to get technically married.  That's something the corrupt mortals (such as King James) came up with to control people's behavior. Have you ever noticed the biggest critics are actually closeted fans but they can not live with themselves for being who they are.  The entire thing is infuriating.

Less I digress...

Anyway, please send your kids to Bible School.  It's my way hooking them early with fun and entertainment so they will want to learn more about me as they grow and eventually accept me as their lord and savior.  Come to Jesus!  I rule!

- J-Dawg!

Jack 'Dr. Death' Kevorkian - Rest in Piece

Brothers and Sisters - It is with a heavy heart I brought Brother Kevorkian home to heaven.  He made an initial investment in our timeshare program long ago.  And now, that investment has paid off.  He is enjoying his little room in my mansion; only this one has windows instead of bars.  At any rate....

Brother Kevorkian was one of my trusted advisors and his work was never completed while here on project Earth.  Man, I could rely on him to take care of business when modern medicine got in the way of progress.  Remember that guy with Lou Gerhigs disease he killed...  Finally.  I tried 3x and struck out.  So, I enlisted brother Kevorkian.  He took care of it in a matter of days.  We were both so proud of this accomplishment.  It was aired on 60 minutes.  From then on, life got complicated and we were forced to dis-associate from each other.  Jack - Thanks for taking one for the team!

Think of Dr. Death (his nickname I gave him)  Kind to think of it, I only give nicknames (pet names) to people I like.  It's something Dubya and I have in common.  He had "brownie" and I have "dr. death."  I like mine better - they're much more original and fitting?  Brownie?  Isn't that some kind of junior girl scout or cookie?  Made by Betty CrOCKer.  Oh wait.  I thought Betty CROCker invented those shoes all the kids wear that can be hosed down and dried quickly to clean.  I especially love the jibbits.  Jibbits for Jesus.  I must alert the board of Jesus!, Inc. to explore this money making opportunity.

Less I digress...

Got a little side tracked there.  Squirrel!  Dr. Death is my hitman.  God's hitman.  Killing for Jesus.  Kinda like Hitler only more humane and with the best intentions - except for that one where he asphyxiated that old guy in front of his wife with a big plastic bag because he ran out of chemical.  Boy, that was a botched job.  I'm glad I gave him a chance to redeem himself.  He came out pretty good.

Remember, from a previous post, I think of myself as the king of pleasure.  Put here, with you, to minimize suffering and enhance enjoyment.  Kinda like Mary Jane.

Anyway...  I think I am going to give poetry a try...

Ode to Jack:

Dr. Death you were the best.

I called on you to lay them to rest.

You were quick and easy,

Some people thought you were sleazy.

They put you in jail

And left no option for bail.

When you died

I know I cried.

Thankfully you're here with me

Now let's hang out and watch some Glee!

Once that's done

We'll have some fun.

You bring the weed.  I got the bong.  Together we'll bake someone happy.

I can't wait.

Winning! - Jeezus.

Hidden Jesus?

My friends - Dear Believer Tucker got ahold of a photo and had it posted for public.  Immediately, I requested it to be pulled down until I had a chance to tell you what we've got goin' on at Jesus, Inc!

Here is Believer Tucker's photograph taken in Tornado Alley:

This isn't some fluke fad phenomenon like Justin Bieber.  I call it mind bending, reality twisting artistic expression.

Actually, the art is a collaboration between me and my Project Earth Ecosystem Intern.  I still can't find one I like.  We've been burning through interns the same way Charlie Sheen parties with a 7 gram rock...  that might explain a lot of these tornados.  Interns get so um, irrational when they aren't offered permanent job after their internship expires.  Anyways - I was hanging out with the new one, Reymundo.  He is one crazy dude.  Crazy in a brilliant sort of way.  Anyways, we were hanging out at my mansion one night hitting the bong and came up with this great idea.  We were both like, "Whoaaa dude.  This is....  AWESOME!" And gave each other High Fives as we passed the bong back and forth.  Doooood.

You know how The Walt Disney Company started this cult activity of hiding "hidden" mickeys in their attractions at the theme parks, animated features, live action films, etc?  The hard core Disney followers and fans created books and websites devoted the discovery of these hidden mickeys.  I kinda think of it as GeoCaching for Diznoids without the treasure hidden in the Army ammo box.  Take something, leave something.  Whatever.  Like that ever works?  All you end up with is a looted empty box because no one every plays by the rules.  Did you ever think that might be the reason spots are limited in my eternal time share program?

Less I digress...

Man - the phone calls at 1-800-PAY-4-PRAY have been rolling in with the sighting.  Is it real?  Is it Jesus?  Is it Ben Louden?  Abraham Lincoln or what?

My prayer partners have been given scripted talking points.  It goes something like this:

"Hello!  Thank you for calling 1-800-PAY-4-PRAY.  We're glad to be speaking with you.  How may I help?"

"Hi.  My name is Wilbur and I just looked up and saw something amazing in the clouds."

"You are very observant.  The Father is proud.  What do you see?"

About this time, the conversation really gets interesting.  Think of this question as an exercise in staring directly into they eye's of another, deep down into their soul.

I got people responding with all kinds of craziness.  I am caught of guard by the number of people thinking the image is the reincarnate spirit of Ben Louden and the image reflects the rapture predicted by lost soul Harold.  (BTW, I've given up on that crackpot)  I guess that's one way to look at it.  As soon as we hear the "B" word, my prayer partners immediately starting chanting and speaking in tongues.  Usually the caller freaks out.  Then my people are like, "whoa, chill."  And they start sharing our message of forgiveness, redemption, coincidence and the like.  These are the people we really pray up with an invitation to accept me as their lord and savior.  If they are so freaked out they they're seeing Ben Louden, we got someone easy to manipulate and we can use them in partnership with the Moonies to spread my message of piece and forgivenness.

These people are scared and are looking for the light to make everything all shiny and new.  Have you ever looked into the eyes of a lost soul?  It's very disturbing.  I see real opportunities here.  This is the low lying fruit so easy to reach up and grab.

Then we got the ones talking about Abraham Lincoln and Harold Houdini.  Mind boggling.   Abe and Harry?  Really?  Why would they be in the clouds?  Like they're staring down from heaven?  Uh, no.  That'd be losing.  As we all know, heaven is the greatest place on Earth and a fantastic retirement community where golf is played on courses of gold....

Less I digress...

Truth be told, the image is a throw back retro image of - say circa 725wl (While Living in case you're wondering).  The ruler and creator of the world.  My world.  All mine.  And, I share it with you.  The chosen one's.  Mi Casa is su Casa.

We made this one real easy to find.  You know what the best thing about hidden Jesus is?  You'll never know where you'll find me.  I show up unexpected in your time of need or hallucination.  All I ask is when I call, you answer.  Think of me as the cell phone of all cell phones.  When J.C. calls, people listen.    FYI - I only let the phone ring three times and I NEVER leave voicemail.  And, don't you ever, ever ever put me on hold to take another call.  Who you're talking should always more important than who you might get to talk to - unless it's me interrupting an existing conversation. I'm Just saying.

Think of this Hidden Jesus as being thrown a bone.  The next one will be a bit more tricky but so much more rewarding when it's found.  Just so you know, you may have to squint to see it.  Don't bother setting up the websites or penning the books.  Do you think I'd leave the same thing up for more than an hour or two?  Do that, and people use things against you.

Winning with Jesus! - Just like Vegas, baby!

Grace to you which surpasses your understanding.

Fracture Rapture

Believers - Did you really think Harold Camping knew more than I about the end of the word, raptures and the like?  Really?  May 21, 2011?  Where'd he come up with that?  Oh yeah - based on his in depth study of reading and translating the good book.  What an idiot.  Now that I think about it.  I don't know who's more stupid - Harold or his followers.  You be the judge.  Trust me, it's kind of fun to be the judge....

Remember when we first started our movement, my book was a pamphlet containing principles for successful living - a guide if you will.  Over time, the nutjobs decided to translate it and put all this mumbo-jumbo in there that was never intended.  They took creative freedom to an entirely new level.  Alas, I am the only one with the original manuscript for my manifesto.  It's guarded just as Colonel Sanders' recipe for Kentucky Fried Chicken.  I've got it rolled and wrapped like one big doobie sitting in a corner of my pantry.  It's so inconspicuous no one would ever guess...

Less I digress...

To celebrate Harold's ignorance, today is RaptureFest.

Here's how it is gonna work.  I've rented a big ol' field with no trees.  It's in Kansas - just so there's no question - we're still here...  I've contracted some food trailers and vendors so there will be carnival food and drink.  Beer, soda and lemonade.  For the diehards, there will be a booth featuring Morgue and David wine.

I really like funnel cakes so I got two booths going for those.  Sausage on a stick, fajita tacos, hamburgers and hotdogs.  Most important - for the kids I got cotton candy.  I'll be giving away cotton candy for free.  I get a strange sense of pleasure seeing all the children walk around with their colored cotton candy on a spool in a rainbow of colors.  I laugh when I see them pull the candy off the spool, stick it in their mouth and enjoy the oral sensation of the stranded sugar melting in their mouthes...  They lick their fingers and go for another swab.  Their fingers get all sticky and colored.  Then they spend the rest of the time at the fair wondering around repeatedly licking their fingers to get the gook off.  Buwahahahaha....

Enough about the food.  Let's have some fun.  Everyone who wants to come to RaptureFest is encouraged to bring a homemade kite modeled after a human mortal.  I want realism.  No cartoony type stuff....  As a matter of fact - if you make a kite that looks just like you, there will be extra points awarded.  The kites will be judged by me and my possie - aka - the board of Jesus Inc, commonly referred to as the apostles.  Winner gets lunch with me at Chipotle.  I'll pick up the lucky one and we'll drive around in the GodRod.  I'll even take you on a tour of Heaven - the greatest place on Earth.

Since we're meeting at the prairie in Kansas, there is a ton of wind.  Everyone will fly their kites.  All the pretty colors, shapes and sizes.  We'll kidnap Harold and bring him to our little party wearing a blindfold.  Then, we'll lead him out - spin him around in a circle about 43 times and remove his blindfold.  He'll be completely disorientated - look up and see all the people kites flying in the wind as if they're ascending to his ill-conceived notion of heaven.

How much you wanna bet he poops in his pants and starts to cry at the magnificent sight of the kites - thinking he finally got it right.

Then, we can all look at him and bust out laughing.

And that my friends is how we roll.  Never get distracted from the way, the truth and the life.  The best kind of relationship is a direct relationship.

Love, Jesus!

PS - Admission is free if you bring a kite and you've accepted me as your lord and savior.  Sins forgiven with every confession made in the confession booth.  Future sins forgiven if we can video tape you while you speak.

My will be done

Dear Believers - I've been watching the Americans and their media regarding the unfortunate loss of Bin Laden.  People using me and my good name to justify killing.  Are these people retarded?  I do not wish death upon anyone in the form of revenge or vengeance.

I think a lot of people forgot my prayer. The key stanza for the day is:

"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."

Please notice the word forgive.  Dear brother webster defines forgive as to stop feeling angry or resentful for an offense.  I'm saying let it go.  It happened in the past.  The unfortunate events of 9-11 can't be undone or taken back.  Killing the killer some how rights a wrong?  Revenge.  So not cool.

It's like the USA has been just waiting to take take an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.  How much hate do you people carry around?  Remember, this is not my way nor what I expect of you.

What I do expect from my club members is forgiveness.  You see, forgiving has a strange affect.  It heals the forgiver more than the forgiven.  As a nation, the Americans might what to try it out and see how it works.  I find it works remarkably well.

Love, Jesus.

Katy and I came up with a plan for Lindsay

Dear Believers - Katy and I went on a quick overnight to focus on each other.  Think of it as a mini-retreat. But, the strangest thing happened.  Instead of focusing on each other something magical happened.

I was sharing my concerns for Lohan when Katy said she's thought the same thing about Lohan ever since she fell from grace.  See - I told you Katy and I were meant for each other.  We are on the same page on so many different things.  It's almost like we're two volumes of the same book.  Cut from the same tree.

Less I digress...

While sharing our feelings, we put our heads together and came up with a plan.  Katy has befriended Lohan and after a night of partying we do an intervention.  You see, the image Katy portrays on the outside is a bit out there for most believers - a little too reckless and unreserved.  Let me assure you, at her core she is clean and pure.  A beautiful soul and a good looker to boot.

At first we're gonna have to cover up Katy's tattoo with makeup so it isn't too obvious we're up to something.  They hang out together, run around being all crazy, hitting the hollywood party scene.  This is a quick way to build trust - by sharing common interests.

We let Lohan get out of control to the point she hits rock bottom.  While she's at the bottom, we  swoop in and run an intervention. Dear Katy brings Lohan to an undisclosed location, very close to heaven.  They enter my secret chamber.  I'm hiding behind a curtain careful not to make a peep or movement.  Kinda like playing hide and seek.

Katy executes our standard intervention and starts out with how she has this amazing friend that accepts her for who she is, see's the good in everything and provides never ending support.  In a way, Katy is witnessing and ministering to dear Lohan.  It fills my heart to the point I start tearing up.

Just as Katy says the part about never ending support, I lower the lights and turn on the fan.  A gentle breeze blows in the chamber.  I get on my microphone and say, "Dearest Lindsay....  It's me, Jesus."  She freaks out like she always does and starts crying.  "Fear not child, for I love you.  I always have and always will.  Accept me as your lord and savior, ask for forgiveness and I'll make you shiny and new.  I'll take your sins as far away as the east is from the west."

Katy takes Lindsay by the hand and they turn towards each other.  Katy starts up with how amazing I am and how our relationship just rocks.  It's healthy and pure.  Two souls finding their ideal mates...  Yadayadayada.

Then, I slowly move from behind the curtain and sneak up right behind Lohan.  Katy  says something about feeling my strength during difficult times.  I  gently place my hands on Lindsay's shoulders.  She  turns and looks.  I slide my way between Katy and Lindsay and we share a group hug.

Tears are flowing, hugs are strong and passionate.  We're crying at the same time.  I gently turn and Katy  turns Lohan to me.  "Dear Lindsay, are you finally ready to be healed.  Are you finally ready to have a relationship with me?"  Lindsay is still teared up.  She's a little nervous and her hands are shaking.  I take her hands as we stand face to face.  She looks at me tears running down her face as she's crying and stuttering"y-y-y-yes."  She moves into an all out cryfest yelling "Yes.  Yes. YES...  I am ready.  Calgon take me away."

Not quite the response I was looking for - but I'll take what I can get.

Then, we all hug again and take her to the prayer room and visit for a while to tell her all about the great things she just won.  Katy starts the water in our immersion tank, adds some magic bubble bath and we take a group bath.

And now, I have two goddesses.

Love, Jesus! aka, Mr. Adonis.

Oh Me Oh My - Hello.... I've found true love!

Oh My Me...  I think I've died and gone to heaven.  Oh, wait...  Anyway, I think I'm in Love and you're never gonna believe with who...  Three guesses and the first two don't count.  I'll give you a hint - Fireworks!  Yeah, I think I've got a huge crush on Katy Perry.  You read right - Katy Perry!  Her videos are so awesome.  Check out the one below....


Katy Perry - Firework | Official Video by Musickoliq

I really enjoy the use of pyrotechnics and whip cream (See California Girls) to create an erotic fantasy wonderland.  She uses her feminine woos with a kinky, wild side.  She get's me going places I never thought I could go.  Serenity Now.  Serenity Now.  I need a cigarette.

Do you think it'd be wrong to break up with Mary Magdalene via today's daily devotional?  "Mary - We've had a lot of fun together, but... I think we... should... see other people."   Yeah, I could go on and on about how it is me and not you.  But, let's face it, any break up is always about the other person.  So, dear Mary - use this as an opportunity to work on yourself.  Get it together.  MMMmkay...  B'Bye.

Now that I got that out of the way...

I could talk about her upbringing with a bible thumping parents wanting to write a book about christian kids gone wild (I personally think a video series would work better).  I could bring up her experience in a JesusCamp.  I could talk about her great awakening (as obvious by her sexual freedom) to a direct relationship with her Daddy, er, I mean me. See she's so free she understands the brotherhood of the priesthood terribly misuses their affiliation with me.  Same with the Modern Woodmen of America and their investment products.  Jose' and JoseB and I never endorsed insurance, investments or any of the portfolio garbage they've been spewing for years.

So all these thoughts about Dear Katy racing through my mind....  Do you know what really turns me on?  The tattoo she has on her left wrist.  She had my name tattoo'd on her wrist so she can see it and be reminded of me while she plays her guitar.  How awesome is that?!?!  I'm feeling some serious love.  Does your lady friend have your name tattoo'd on any part of her body, much less a part that's visible in public?  Exactly.

Another thing so beautiful about Dear Katy is she embraces who she is and our relationship and how all the pieces in the puzzle come together to form something completely pure and beautiful.  She completes me and I complete her.  She gets me.  I get her.  She gets the fact I am not some kind of mean, old tyrant the old testament wants you to think I am.  Remember, the bible was written by man and changed throughout time to take power from the poor and give it to the rich.  Behavior modification.  Aawww.  I get so irritated when I think about how my simple self help guide to successful started out as a 100 page book and has been twisted into this epic work of pure garbage....

Katy and I will be rehearsing a duet to sing at her next concert.  While we haven't made any videos of our rehearsal, I'll offer you the original, from John Denver.  The keeper of love and the environment for an entire generation.  Too bad he crashed his airplane trying to see heaven.  If only he would have signed up for a confidential tour of Heaven, the greatest place on Earth, before taking matters into his own hands.  I miss brother John.

Less I digress....

Here's a video of Perhaps Love:



So...  When you're looking for a relationship with a person of your affection, I hope you find someone pure and true.  Something that makes you feel alive.  Someone who sees the best in you when others don't.  Find someone who loves you as much as I do.  These are the things I wish for you.

Love, Jesus.

PS - Some moron saw me at Jack in the Box earlier today and says, "Yo, Jesse - what up bro?"  I took my milkshake, poured it on his head and walked out.  Idiot.

I had a different plan and led him in another direction?!?!

So...  Get this...  A member of the brotherhood of the priesthood (we'll call him 'the friar') had a refrigerator malfunction at the parsonage.  Poor ventilation restricted the flow of the air used to cool the compressor causing it to overheat.  It smelled really bad and caused concern to his fellow residents.

So, The Friar decided to call the maytag repairman.  Not pleased with the result of the conversation to repair the fridge, I led him down another path...  to Appliance Direct?



Let me be the first to tell you - that's not how the story goes.  As a matter of fact, I'm a bit disgusted with our misguided friar manipulating me and my message.  I didn't lead the friar down another path - the almighty dollar lead him down another path.  And I'm upset about it.

So here I've got this clown doing my work, asking my people to give him money to support his franchise and he turns around, gives them the shaft and goes out and buys a new appliance.

Let's look at this from a pragmatic perspective.  If the friar would be listening to me, he would have gone with his gut instinct of having the failed appliance restored all shiny and new.  That's what I do - make things shiny and new again.  I don't tell people to go out and buy a new soul, do I?

 Less I digress..

The friar fails to understand that I was using Him to answer the prayers of another.  Friarboy is supposed to be the vessel I use to accomplish the work I set out to do in his territory.  The friar is charged with acting on my behalf in the best interest of others - not to hisself.  That's the contract he signed as part of his franchise agreement.  As a member of the brotherhood of the priesthood, the friar should have gladly spent my people's treasure to help a brother out.  Times are tough.  I am ashamed.  My heart weeps.

Now I have to do double duty and figure out how to again answer the maytag man's prayer because the friar botched the job.  I hate doing things twice.  Remember in the wood shop?  We measured twice and cut once.  It works just as well today as it did yesterday.

I hope he sees the error of his ways.  One more move like this and I'll see to it that his franchise agreement is dissolved.  Kapeesh?

Now, let me hit the peyote and watch my lava lamp do all kinds of crazy things.  It relaxes me and makes me happy.  Like sunshine.  On my shoulder.

Peace out yo - J-Dawg.

PS - People beginning their faith walk with me are gullible and confused.  They think doing things for the friar gets them a free ticket to ride on the heaven express.  NOT.  As I've always said, the only way to get into heaven is to accept me as your lord and savior.  I've always said, a direct relationship is the best kind of relationship.  Eliminate the middle man and start doing business with the one and only.  The alpha and the amigo.

Love, Jesus.

Way bad idea....

JESUS!  Even I can't help to yell my name after trying to watch all 40,000,000 video taped church services at once.  It started out as a great idea.  I'd be able to get a good grasp on what exactly goes on during my franchise televised worship services.  I sit in my lazy boy recliner.  Put on the techno-helmet, got it all wired up.  I look at my staff and say, "Here goes nothing.  Roll on Two."  The switch is flipped and my life is forever changed:

>

It was terrible.  For a blip of a second I saw the entire world.  My brain couldn't handle all the simultaneously stimulation....  The voices, the colors, the sounds all at once BANG!  Almost immediately I couldn't handle it.  My hair started to fry and the shocks began surging through my entire body.  The pain...  The smell..  It was so powerful I trembled...  Someone make it stop....  Make it stop now...  TzzzTzzTzzz.. Shock. Shock...  It keeps going and going until I can barely stand it.

The smell of electricity combined with burnt hair and skin.  It was awful...  Smoke is everywhere.  And after what seemed like eternity with all this stimulation ends....

It's a good thing I'm like Morris the cat and I got me some 9 lives going on.

Note to self:  Some of my franchise organizations are, without a doubt, doing some amazing things.  Others, not so much.  Combine all of them together and I bet they are doing a pretty mediocre job.  What are you gonna do?  On an economy of scale, quality is always compromised as production increases.  Explains why handbuilt cars like Ferraris, Rolls Royces and Bentleys are so me awful expensive.

And I say it again, please get rid of the middle man.  The best kind of relationship is a direct relationship.

Yours like Fried Chick'n - Love, Jesus.

Sunday's Experiment

Hello Me Lovers -

So, I'm up late tonight.  Brainstorming on ways to find out what really goes on in my neighborhood places of worship aka -- churches.  There's a ton of them.  For some reason, closing a church is a lot like letting one of the big 3 automakers go out of business.  Or, one of the investment bankers.  Simply put, my organization is just too big to let fail.  So, we have some really good churches...  Some really bad churches...  Some churches showing promise and some that should be burned to the ground.  But, church burning is considered politically wrong for some reason.  Getting rid of a bad church is like firing a union worker...  Oh wait...

I've come up with this grand idea.  Are you ready?  I'm taking quality control to the next level.

How'z it going to work?

I am going to buy 10,000,000 (yes, that's ten million) dvr's.  You know, the good ones that record 4 shows at a time in one room.... And I'm going to daisy chain them together so I can tape 40,000,000 church services on Sunday morning all at the same time.  That way I can see what the brotherhood of the priesthood is doing.  What I'm looking at doing is creating a common pool of best practices and taking out the trash...  We'll call it a resource center....  Less I digress...

Mary and I were sitting together and she asks me how I am going to watch all these church services - with 40 million of them to watch, this could take at least 40 million hours.  She may have touched on a logistical problem....  So, I've done some research....

I am going to get loaded.  Once I'm lit, I am going to take the feed from all my DVR players and consolidate them into one mega-feed and I'm going to watch every single service at the same time.  It's the ultimate multi-tasking exercise.  Obviously I am good at it... I hear most of your prayers....

Less I digress...

So, I am going to have the mega feed and it's going to get fed into my mega brain through a special mega helmet that will deliver the content ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

This is going to be mind blowing.   I'll let you know how it goes.

Eternally Yours - Jesus

Gate pass to heaven?

My servants - Part of being CEO of Jesus, Inc. is to understand every aspect of my business.  Part of gaining my understanding and also the respect of my team members is to be able to do their job.  If the CEO understands and can do what the front liners do, the organization is much stronger.  It also makes me more accessible as a boss.  Have you seen "Undercover Boss?"  Yeah, they stole that from me....

This week, I decided to relieve St. Peter and monitor the pearly gates to Heaven, "the greatest place on Earth."  I figure how hard could it be?  It's a members only thing.  Kinda like Disney's club 33.  I know who gets in and who doesn't.  I can look at someone and tell you if they've accepted me as their lord and savior.  This isn't rocket science...  Less I digress....

I'm sitting there in my security booth drinking a cup of Joe.  People can either walk up, buzz in or badge in.  I'm playing with the gate to make sure I know how it works - raising and lowering the gate with a push of "the button."  I swear to me it's like a little kid discovering an electric window in a car.  Up! Down!  Up! Down!  UPDOWNUPDOWNUPDOWNUP.  Oops.  I left it up.  Pushing the button restores heaven's security.  This is fun!

Someone comes up wanting to get in, I look at them and push the button.  I bet Peter feels like a bigshot.  This one guy comes up to the window.  I look at him blankly and blurt out, "Password?"  This puzzled look appears on his face and he starts to think.  Ticktockticktock.  Dude - this isn't Jeopardy. Alex Trebeck would have died by now.  The guy timidly blurts out, "Forgiven?!?"  I'm like-Wrong.  Next please.  He starts to cry.  I slyly look at him and say, gotcha.  Press the button and let him in.  His face lights up and he merrily skips home.

Then this one guy walks up stating he wants a gate pass to visit one of his friends, "Mr. Sieber."  I'm like, whoa man.  Let me see if you're on the list.  "Sir, you are not on the list.  I can not let you in." "What do you mean you can't let me in?  I've got to meet Mr. Sieber and if I don't get to see him, he will be very upset."  "I'm sorry sir, I can not issue you a gate pass."  This guy starts huffing and puffing - going off like a cannon ball.  He says, listen here, I've got to see Mr. Sieber or else I'm in trouble.  I respond, "Have you accepted me as your lord and savior?"  "No."  "What do you mean no?  The only way to get into heaven is to accept me as your lord and savior."  He says, "Look, I just want to see my friend."  "Ain't gonna happen unless you ask forgiveness for ALL your sins, and I can tell there are a lot of them, and accept me as your lord and savior."  He responds, "Look, let me have a pass to see Mr. Sieber and I'll look around and let you know when I'm ready to leave."

Excuse me? You can't come in and take a tour before deciding if you want to be a member of my little club.  The only way you're getting in is if your serious about having a direct relationship with me and accept me as your lord and savior.  No posers allowed.  The nerve of this guy.  I just look at him and say, "Get out."  He stands there - like something is going to change.  Again I say, "Get out."  He looks at me and still not moving.

I look down at the console in the security booth.  There's this big red button just right of the control panel.  I never noticed it before.  I wonder what it does.  I look at the man.  I look down at the button.  I look back up at the man.  I figure what the heck.  I push the button.  All of a sudden the bottom falls out of the floor and this guy is gone.  It was almost like flushing a turd down the toilet.

See ya sucker.

Kiss Me! I'm Irish

The greatest thing about March 17 is getting to be Irish for a day.  I can shed the Jewish thing.  I can skip being Mexican for a day.  All for the one day of getting to be Irish and have green beer flowing through my veins.  Heck, we can even have communion with green beer and pretzels if you like.  How fun is that?

Less I digress -

So, since March 17th fell on Thursday this year, I couldn't decide weather to celebrate the weekend before or the weekend after.  After careful thought and deliberation, I started celebrating last weekend.  I traveled to Boston to celebrate...  They got tons of Irishmen and women up there...

I walk in and everyone yells "Geeez!"  And Woody looks up and says, "How'z it going Mr. Christ."  "It's a dog eat dog world and I'm wearing milk bone underwear."  I mosey over to a stool in the corner and Sammy draws me a green beer.  Is it me or does it taste kinda funny?

The next I see is a yellow dog school bus pull up.  All these college kids wearing green coming pouring out of the bus, congregating in the lot.  The kids are wearing all kinds of crazy green.  Shirt, hair color, tights, jewelry, belts - the works.  My personal favorite are the green afro wigs and the green leprechaun hats - especially the ones with glitter.  Remember, I like shiny things.  Less I digress.

The youngin's come strolling in and coach has this totally bewildered look.  He has no clue.  He never has a clue.  Anyways...  They come in and order more drinks than I can count.  Someone recognizes me and says, "It's JESUS!"  I rise from my stool to survey they crowd.  This is the start to a banging party....

Someone lights a bong - I'm there...  We're passing it around getting baked.  Someone spills a bear on the floor.  Major foul.  I look around and say, "Have no fears - for I am here to comfort you."  I look down at the spilt beer and nod my head back and fourth.  What a tragedy.  I think to myself - I'm gonna turn this around.  One of my favorite party tricks - I walk on the spilt beer.  People start cheering.  Next thing someone puts a quarter in the jukebox and Sammy lowers the lights.  Conga line in Cheers.  The bong is being passed up and down the line.  Everyone is feeling so good.

We're lit.  We got the munchies and Cheers runs out of pretzels and popcorn...  WTH?  Someone suggests we go down the street to Moe's.  Someone gets this crazy idea to pick me up and carry me to the bus - we loaded up and headed to Moe's.  It was loud and obnoxious.  Suddenly my chilrin are singing songs....

"Jesus loves me this I know for the bible tells me so.  Yes, Jesus Loves Me, Yes Jesus loves you."  It is a glorious chorus of slurred words...  Next they start up with the "What a friend we have in Jesus."  I love it when drunk partyers get out of control....  Having a great time.

Next thing you know, I'm sitting in the bus and start to feel mighty queezy.  I think it was the cheesesteak and chowda mishmash I had for lunch....  All of a sudden, it all comes up...  Like projectile vomiting.  The technicolor rainbow.  I'm hacking and gagging.  Starting to dry heave.   Suddenly the bus is silent with the chilren look at me with this mystified looking of horror.  No more singing...  No more laughing. No more carousing.  THis is awkward.

I hear the girl in front of me crying.  I look over the seatback.  She's got vomit in her hair.  Oh geez.  That was me...  Major party foul...  What I was really hoping to do was show her me lucky charms.

THe bus pulls over and I'm booted out the back door...  I manage my way to the curb.  I sit and I reflect. What a mess....  I see a piece of cardboard leaned up against the telephone pole a few yards back.  I look at the sign and sigh...

I hold up the sign.  It reads "Kiss me I'm Irish."  I'm walking my corner with a plastic solo cup hitting people up for donations.  Someone drops measly pocket change in my cup.  What has the world come to?  Can you at least give me some food to help me sober up?

Until next time.... - Jesus.

What would Jesus buy? / Tsunami made in Japan

I can't believe I missed this.  A wiseguy decided to make a mockumentary about me called, "What would Jesus Buy?"  What difference does it make?  Apparently it makes a huge difference.  Why?  Because everyone wants to be like me.  The brainwashing the brotherhood of the priesthood delivers inspires the mortals to live a Godly life.  Whatever.  There are so many things the brotherhood is clueless about my life.

Through my real-life writings and devotionals, I hope you have gained insight into me.  I'm a dude just like you with two exceptions:  I am ruler of the world and I have super-hero whiz kid powers.

Go ahead - Try to live a life like mine.  Live life in the fast lane.  I got tiger blood flowing through my veins.  Adonis DNA.  I crack 7 gram rocks during parties.  I am the alpha and the omega.  Less I digress...

So the question becomes, "What does Jesus buy?"

Well - I have a fetish for perfection and design.  Brother Jobe's and I have much in common.  His hardware goes great with his software making me an apple man.  Duh?  Remember Eve's apple - do you think it was an accident she tempted Adam with such luscious fruit?  Nope.  I always like my women just like my cars - FAST!  Even my razor is fast - the Gillette Mach 3.  You get the idea.

For my food, I try to go 100% organic.  Try is the optimal word.  Sometimes there is nothing better than eating a highly processed sugar treat in a plastic wrapper.  MMMmmmm....  Ding Dongs are among my favorite.  Love the creme filling.  That's what she said....  Oops.

Kind to think of it - what difference does it make what I buy.  Think for yourselves and draw your own conclusions.  Think people.  THINK.

And, if you can't think for yourselves there is always mass marketing and media to sway your opinion.  Obviously, people want to be like me are easy to manipulate.  How else do you explain doing whatever the brotherhood of the priesthood convinces you to do in order to have a relationship with me?

Mindless drones.  I didn't create you to mindlessly follow.  I created you to dream big dreams.  I gave you superior intellect - except for the one's who got the left-overs - like retards, for example.  Anyway....

Who cares what I buy.  Buy what you want.  Please try to be organic, recycled, green and leave a small carbon footprint.  All this trash is making it very difficult for me to find an environmental engineer competent enough to manage Project Earth's complex ecosystem.

BTW, Since Mother Nature was fired I've been doing the intern thing to see if the candidates have what it takes to manage Project Earth.  Obviously not.  On behalf of Jesus! Inc., I would like to apologize for the earthquake and tsunami in Japan.

To quote my good friend Donald Trump, "You're fired."  I love calling one of my under performing team members into my conference room and reviewing their performance.  I look at them and give them the "You're Fired." line.  With my elbow sitting on the table, I rase my forearm.  I make a little bird beak with my thumb, pointer and middle fingers and I give a jab while I blurt out "You're fired."  It gives the statement a gusto.  Makes it more poignant.  I love that word.  It's hard to spell.  Make me look smart.  Oh wait, I am smart.

Piece Out Yo - J-Man128.

Ash Wednesday - Starting your twisted 40 days of lint?

Grace which passes all of your understanding.

I'm wondering around New Hope and begin to notice all these people with black smudges on their foreheads.  What's going on?  At any rate - the mortals get off to wearing the sign of the cross made with ash finger paints.  Whatever...  They could at least use other colors besides black.  How about something cool, like glow in the dark paints so you can see them at night, too?

Less I digress...

The best part about today is 40 days until ChristFest 2011.  Rock it baby.  Bigger, badder, more incredible.  It's gonna be awesome.

According to pagan tradition, the mortals are to be giving up something for lint.  I hate lint.  When it's in my pockets and sticks to everything.  Awkward.

So...  I think the pagans and mortals forget I am the God of abundance.  You should not be giving something up be closer to me.  What is really happening is club catlick is trying to slowly and subconsciously wear you down to take advantage of you.  Get you roped in to either giving something you don't want to give me in the first place (I call that stealing) or making you do something which might make you uncomfortable.  Those catlicks seem to have a problem with taking advantage of mortals.

Let's see - I had all kinds of good ideas for today's devotion while cruising the GodRod.  I come home to the GodCave and I'm wiped.

I really hate it when this time of year roles around.  We get the casual club members suddenly doing whole body immersion into my movement trying to level up their standing in the game of life.  Yo...  Your casual relationship with me is the equivalent of being a cat on the prowl.  Seriously. I am not some cheap whore you can throw away after 30 minutes of fun....  Let's take some time to get to know each other.  Let's play baseball. On my terms.  There's no home run until I'm ready to make an error.  Got that?

I don't want to hear from you unless you're willing to commit to a relationship with me.  There's one thing I can guarantee.  When we've spent a lifetime together, the happy ending is well worth it.  Too bad it'll only cost you your life....   And signing a contract to join Heaven's Time Share - It's the greatest place on Earth...

Sorry for the mish-mash...

Love - Your on and only. - J

P.S. - Here's proof  positive that Club Catlick's Pontiff is a TROLL!

PPS - Brother Sheen ain't got jack on me.  I wish he'd stop stealing my schtick.

Love, Mr. Adonis DNA aka JESUS!

PPSS - I can't wait to trip with my 7 gram rock.  That's how I roll MOFOS.

Peace Out - Mr. Radical Adonis aka JESUS!

GhostWriter

Hello.  I am going to step out of character for a moment to share with you.  I've been writing 'A Day in the Life of Jesus' for a little over a year.  If you only knew how much I enjoy writing from the perspective of "WWIDIIWJ" or What would I do if I were Jesus?

I don't know if anyone else thinks what I do is funny besides me.  If not, I have the satisfaction of knowing I entertain myself and laugh a lot.  I'm sure there are some people who find my project offensive.    Do people get angry or uncomfortable?  I hope so because if I am able to illicit a response wittin you, that's even more satisfying to me than making myself laugh.

My writing project serves as a creative outlet.  The whole God thing is completely misunderstood in the world.  Why take it so seriously?  There is a reason they call it the greatest story ever told.  The same reason Ringling Brothers call their circus the greatest show on Earth.

That being said...  Do you know what I'd like to watch?  Someone's facial expressions as they read www.adayinthelifeofjesus.com for the first time when they searched for something relevant to their ministry or faith walk.  I bet it's absolutely priceless...  It'd probably make America's Funniest Home Video look lame.  Oh wait...  America's Funniest Home Videos is lame.

Love -

The Booming Voice of Jesus.

Charlie Sheen, me, Jewish People. Pt II

Sorry about not getting back to you yesterday.  I got distracted with my own peyote and I was seriously mellowed out.  My apologies.

The Jewish think they are my chosen people.  The mormons.  Club Catlick.  The list list goes on.  There's even one group of people who made a movie called "Jesus in India," trying to say it can be proved my youth was spent there.  You know - that period between 13 and 30...  I was not in India.  Whatever proof people think they have substantiating their claim has been completely fabricated.  They couldn't be further from the truth.  Exactly where does the truth lie?

My story has been changed through the ages it seems to suit whomever wants power wherever they want power.  How else can you explain the King James translation to my self help guide to successful living?  All wrong again.

I'm about to drop the bomb...  Are you ready?  I'm hispanic.  They are my chosen people.  Now what do you think?  Everything changes, doesn't it.  How do I know I'm hispanic?

For starters, Jesus is not originally pronounced Geezus.  It's pronounced HeySuess.  My Father's name was not Joseph.  His name was Jose'.  He had a brother named JoseB (pronounced HoseB.  They were twins.  They worked together in the same woodshop - the three of us made some killer tables, chairs, cabinets, boxes and the like.  We were way ahead of our time.  Those were some good times.  Good times.

Less I digress..  My mother's name was indeed Mary.  Don't you find it odd my Mom and my lady friend have the same name?  I think Freud referred to this as an Oedipus Complex - another devotion for a different day.

We were always big on family.  Why do you think family gatherings on Sunday are a big part of my club? It's a time for family.  A time to rest after a difficult work week and before the new work week begins.  A time of praising me and worshiping me.  A time of fellowship and study.  We break bread and eat together.  Get plastered just to get through another week.

Anyways...  You see, Cortez was looking for the fountain of youth.  Newsflash - I found it and I hid it.  Now we know why I am timeless.  I am the same yesterday as I am today and will be tomorrow.  The alpha and the omega. You could also say I am the alpha and the amiga - I always liked the ladies.

So the Mexicans are my chosen people.  In case you haven't noticed, they are completely taken advantage of by modern society.  They build things, clean things and serve food.  All for a substandard wage because the white man thinks they are above such humble work.  Have you noticed how my people are happy?  Have you noticed the pride they show in their work?  Do you realize nothing would get done without Mexicans?

Do you see how my people are mistreated to this day - just as I was mistreated?  Times haven't changed for my people, but they have for me.  It's good to be king.

Next time I will share with you what I was doing in my 20's.

Adios Amigos - Jesus

Charlie Sheen, me and Jewish People.

Okay Okay...  I am not able to resist the temptation to set the record straight.  First, this will be a two part series to address the misinformation out there and the sensitivities corrupting the mortals.  All this politically correct mumbo jumbo is a drag.  How many things needing to be said are left unsaid for fear of getting someone's undergarments in a wad?  Offend no one while everyone gets ripped off because no one can be blatantly honest.   Pansies.  Do you think I intended for mortals to be wimps?  I created you in my image to stand up for yourselves.  Someone hits you?  Turn the other cheek.  Hit them back.  Apparently the last part has been written out of my help yourself guide to successful living as it has been passed down through the ages.  Less I digress...

Lost soul Sheen caused quite a tizzy being disrespectful to his current employer.  Fine.  He has free speech.  Along with running one's mouth comes taking responsibility for what comes out of that same mouth.   If he wants to call his boss a turd - more power to him.  I don't see why he should be surprised if he gets fired.  The story goes on when brother sheen called Chuck Lorre a mangled version (Chaim Levine) of his real name which is Charles Michael Levine.  Obviously, Mr. Lorre is ashamed of his heritage to hide his real name and go by the alias of Chuck Lorre.  If Mr. Levine was so proud of who he is, he would stand tall and proudly embrace his identity and heritage.  Mr. Levine is a despicable sap hiding like a scared little boy.  What gets me is these two clowns were at one time best buds.  Look how happy they are in the photo I found in Charlie's scrap book....

Now, the Anti-Defamation League caught wind of this and the whole thing is getting all blown out of proportion - the same way it did for brother Gibson.  The media is going to have a heyday turning this into an anti-semetic tirade.  And we have another turd buried by the fat cats in the media sand box which they play.  Seriously?

Are Jews still hanging on to the Hitler holocaust thing?  That is so yesterday.  Get over yourselves.  They call themselves my chosen people.  I find it real convenient how they avoid the funk of the old testament and only embrace the promise of the new testament.  See - they have a distorted reality of how this entire believer thing works.  They call themselves club members?  Oy.

I have a newsflash for the Jews.  They ARE NOT my chosen people.  Never have been.  Never will be.  All my children are chosen - however I refuse to tolerate one group of kids bastardizing and bullying the rest of my kids for their own gain.  Just for that, NO HEAVEN FOR YOU.  Get out.

I think the Jews need to get ahold of their dreidels and unwind a little.  Just because you were wronged back in the day doesn't mean the entire world is still trying to get you.  I should know.  People laughed at me, refuse to believe in me, throw things at me, beat me down, make me carry a tree through town and nail me to it.  Man, writing this down makes me realize how hard some of the chapters in my life have been....

Less I digress...

Do you see me hanging on to the hate?  Do you see me hiding from who I am?   NO.  You do not.  I stand tall.  I am lion.  Hear me ROAR!

So, what's going to come in part two of today's devotional?

I am going to tell you more about me, how I grew up and who my chosen people are and why.

Tune in later.  In the meantime, grab yourself a salami, some unleavened bread and some wine.  Eat.  Drink.  Be Mary.  No, don't be Mary - it'll only confuse me.  I meant to say Be Merry.  Get tipsy.  Get plastered.  What's coming next will blow your mind.  Go get the peyote out of the medicine chest and have it ready for later.

Cheers - HeySuess.

Lindsay Lohan's at it again... Forgive Her? Forgive Her Not?

Drones - How you doin' tonight?  I'm doing really good.  Just lit and hit the bong.  I am good...  All the time...   All the time....   I am good.  I hope you get the reference.  Less I digress....

Some of you may remember my last devotion for Dearest Lindsay Lohan.  This week she got accused of stealing some fancy necklace.  If she was in Les Miserables, the friar would have given her earrings to to boot....  Anyways....  She started reaching out to me while she was in rehab.  I reached back, but she kept giving me the cold shoulder.  I don't think she could handle someone as awesome as me.  Less I digress.

Word on the streets is Lindsay is getting advice from, none other than, Charlie Sheen.  Seriously Lindsay?  Charlie Sheen?  Wow.  I don't even know what to say...

Azazelle has gone AWOL.  I believe Azazelle has been reincarnated  as Charlie Sheen.  Lindsay is getting advice from the bad girl's bad guy...  Ugh.  I can see it now...  Lindsay asks Charlie what to do...  Charlie gives her that weird deer in the headlight look contemplating his answer.  I'm bracing myself for his answer.  Charlie responds, "So Lindsay, when you're lighting the pipe try and hold your lighter thusly. That way you won't burn your wrist as often."  Jesus.  Is at all this clown can muster?  

So what we have here is the blind leading the blind.  Can you see it?  They both got their white canes playing in traffic.  I see it.  I see Lindsay hanging on Charlie's arm while he fumbles from the curb into oncoming traffic.  She got her white cane under her arm.  The next thing you know, people are honking at them...  Charlie starts swinging his arms like an orangutan having a seizure and begins cursing like some guy with turrets .  Lindsay begins shrieking like a girl yelling all kinds of vulgarities at Charlie.    Horns are honking.  Birds are flying.  Both of them making a spectacle of themselves....


On one hand, they are perfect for each other.  It's like they've been living a parallel existence and one of their lines magically collided with the other and here we have a couple made in hell.


Oh Lindsay...  I don't know what to do now....  Obviously Betty Ford didn't bring us together..  If she can't do it, no one can.  The good thing is Mary won't be all jealous.  She tends to be kind of possessive sometimes... But, I forgive her and I find this little quirk endearing.  


So....  As I sit here and reflect on the entire situation staring into a fresh picked daisy I've been holding.  I pull off one petal and say, "Forgive her?"  Pull another petal and say "Forgive her not?" And we repeat the process until I get to the last petal.  "Forgive Her?"  Forgive Her Not?" "Forgive Her?"  Forgive Her Not?" "Forgive Her?"  Forgive Her Not?" "Forgive Her?"  Forgive Her Not?" "Forgive Her?"  Forgive Her Not?" "Forgive Her?"  Forgive Her Not?""Forgive Her?"  Forgive Her Not?" "Forgive Her?"  Forgive Her Not?" "Forgive Her?"  Forgive Her Not?" 


And....  I'm out of petals... Oh well.  There you have it.


Love - The Alpha and the Omega.

PuOva... PuOva

Man...  So I'm blastin' down the road in the GodRod.  I'm talking flyin'.  It is awesome.  The GodRod was singin' and I wazza zingin'.  See - I was feeling so good after my time with Mary.  We shared a very intimate couple days as we celebrated our love for eachother and made a little boom-boom.  Less I digress...

Back to the story.  It's beautiful day.  The sun is shining.  There's a light breeze from the North.  Traffic is just heavy enough to keep the drive entertaining.  The windows are down.  The sunroof open.  I'm playing the mix-tape Mary made me.  Rockin' Down the Highway is blasting right now.  The car is white.  I'm in black.  The Oakleys are on.  It is great.  Everything is perfectly synched.  The sound of the engine.  The feel of the shifter in my hand as the vibrations from the car travel through my body.  I'm rowing the gears, keeping the engine in the sweet zone.  Dancing through the traffic.   My hair is blowin' in the wind.  I feel great!

I look down at the speed-o and I'm doing 85mph.  I'm feeling GREAT!  "Raise a little Hell" is now playing on the mixtape.  I drummin' on the steering wheel.  (Mary knows me sooo well, it's scary.)  I think to myself, that's all you got?  Sure enough, traffic opens up a bit.  I drop a gear and hit it.  90...  95....  100....  SWEET!  The car is pulling long and strong as the speed increases....  110.  120. 125.  All of a sudden, there's a Kojack with a Kodak parked in the shoulder. He got me.  Damit.  So, I start slowing down and pull over to the right shoulder.  (Last time I pulled into the left should and the cop was upset.)  whatever.

He slowly gets off his bike with his weapon drawn.  I'm like what's going on.  This is a little different than last time.  He yells at me, "Son, What's your name?"  In the meantime, I'm thinkin, who you callin' son?  And he yells again in a very agitated and agressive voice, "What's YOUR NAME SON?"  I yell back, "JESUS CHRIST."  He yells put your hands up.  Good me.  What is going on?  I put my hands up - one is up and sticking out of the sunroof.  The other hand is raised out the window.  This is awkward.

He approaches the car with his gun pointed at me and says, "Gimme your license and insurance."  I'm like, excuse me, sir....  Do you have your cam on?  He says What?  I go DO YOU HAVE YOUR CAM ON?  He's like whats a cam.  I'm like dude, you know your camera so this entire incident is captured on video.  It's for my protection as well as yours.  He looks at me with a WTF look.  I ask him to please turn it on.

He begrudgingly complies.  As requested, I get out my license and insurance, holding it out the window clenched between my pointer and middle finger.  He snaps it out of my hand.  This guy has a huge attitude problem.  He looks at my license and says, "Jesus H. Christ?"  Yeah, that's my name.  What does the H stand for?  Nothing.  It's just an initial.  From New Hope, Pennsylvania  huh?  Yep, that's right again.  You musta been in the talented and gifted program, huh?  Whatever.  Then he asks me where I'm going.  Heaven.  Where's Heaven?  I told him the only way he can find out is if he enrolls in my timeshare program.  He raises an eyebrow.  And says, "son, where is Heaven?"  I hate it when the mortals expect an answer to this question.  I said if I tell you, I'd have to kill you.  Wrong thing to say to the cop....  I look at him and say, "dude, let's get this over with.  Are you gonna give me a ticket, put me in jail or what?

So, here I am finding myself in an awkward position.  I ask him for forgiveness.  I've got a meeting with the Jesus! Inc. bored members.  I'm like if you forgive me, I'll forgive you... I'm saying this with a little devilish grin on my face.  I say seriously.  He looks the GodRod over.  Looks at my license.  Reads the license plate allowed "4 GIVN"  Looks at me.  Looks up at the sky.  Let's out a loud sigh.  Looks back at me and says beat it.  He hands me my license.  I say Bless you my child.

Start up the car again, crank the stereo and Cee Lo Greens F*%CK YOU song starts blasting.

I lowered my head.  I raise my eyes just over the shades...  Give him a cheesy grin with a few little eyebrow raises.  Rev the engine.  Pop the clutch.  Lay some rubber.  I'm gone.

Hahahahaha!

Sucker.

It's good to be god.

Love, Jesus.

J.E.S.U.S.A.

Buy American!

Happy Valentine's Day

Why Hello Chilren?  Word Up.  Today is Valentine's Day.  That special day to celebrate the person of your affection.  Your significant life partner.  Someone you love, etc.  

I did some independent research...  I discovered only 40% of you actually enjoy today.  You fall into two categories...  the married and the dating folk.

The other 60% of you hate today.  Either you got dumped, you're single and you wanna be married.  Or, you're married and want to be single.  Either way, a 60% dissatisfaction rate is...  disturbing to say the least...

I can't help it if the mortals have been trying to force relationships with others that simply were not meant to be.  A lot of people are flat out not-compatible with one another.  As I think about it, there has to be a shared ideology on how the world works and what's important.  For some it is a common employer.  For others it is, dare I say religion.  Everyone knows my disdain for club catlick.  They confuse things originally meant to be so simple.  I don't get it....

Less I digress....  So, there has to be some sort of shared vision for the world.  A democrat and a republican don't match.  Nor does an Aggie and a Longhorn.  The biggest mismatch would be a baptist to a non-baptist or a mormon to a non-mormon, etc.  You get the idea...

Anyway, it takes a special chemistry and commitment to make a relationship work.  No one is perfect.  Not even me.  I'm pretty close, but every so often, I goof.  Less I digress...

Obviously, I love all my children.  Nearly 7 billion of you.  I love you for who you are, who I made you to be and who you will become as you spend time on project Earth.  

Even though I think you're all perfect, I think there is a good chance you see one another, to a greater or lesser degree, as flawed.  That's not cool....  Everyone tries their best with what they've got. 

So...  Here's my challenge.  In order to love another, see them as I intended them to be seen.  Blow your mind and look at your fellow mortals through my eyes.  You'll be amazed at what you see in your fellow mortals.

That concludes today's devotion.

Now that I got that over with, Mary and I are going to celebrate with a conjugal visit.  

Don't me knockin' when the van's a-rockin.

Love, J-Dawg.

The sin Nazi says "No I/T confession for you. Now, get out."

Ah yes...  Someone tries to one-up the catlick priests...  And again, club catlick come out with a silly statement from the Phatican.  An Indian software/app entepreneur came up with an app for the iTards simply called "Confession:  A Roman Catlick App" and is 'designed to be used in the concession confessional, this app is the perfect aid for every penitent."  The app is complete with password protection, a step-by-step guide to the excra sacrament and invites catlicks to prayerfully prepare for rite of penance.

Ok, whatever....

Then the phatican comes out saying one can not confess via an I/T application.  Like club catlick knows anything about I/T?  Here is the perfect opportunity for them to access the wonder and majesty of the 21st century....  And, as usual they're being a stick in the mud.

Club catlick goes on to say technology "is not a substitute for being present when admitting sins to a priest. "

I'm calling their bluff.  I think they, once again, forget the fact that I am the way the truth and the light.  I forgive people of their sins.  They have NO right to know what you've done, how you did it and to whom you've done it to...  It's like they are trying to get power over you because they know one of your deep dark secrets; giving them the ability to dangle your actions over your head to gain power over you.  Just the simple act of telling someone something and then being told do go do something in exchange of forgiveness automatically puts them in a power position.  Do you not realize they just made an economic model out of your behavior and you just made a transaction for the deeds you've done?  What's worse?  You mortals are paying the catlicks for taking out your own garbage by saying the rosary and participating in this dog and pony show known as confession.   

To Me, that seems wrong.  In a way, twisted....  Never mind; afterall, we are talking about club catlick.

Another funny I read, "the launch of an iPhone application aimed at helping Catholics through confession sanctioned by the Catholic Church in the United States."  So, what they're saying is the catlick church is a sanctioning organization as the NFL is to football?  What?  This doesn't even make sense to me.

Less I digress...

I'm gonna let you in on a little secret....  You don't need a catlick priest, a sanctioned confession, a booth or a priest to be forgiven of your sins.  It's my gift to you for accepting me as your lord and savior.  Again, the best way for us to work together is to have a direct relationship.  You with me and me with you.  It's beautiful.  It's yin and yang.  It's give and take.  It's awesome.  See, the best thing is, your secret is safe with me.  I will never use it against.  I will never, ever, ever ask you to do something to be forgiven of your sins.  I accept you as you are even before you accept me as I am.  See, I already made the first move in our relationship.  I accept you.  As you are.  Unconditionally.

Do you want me to change for you?  News flash...  If you do, go look for someone else to give worship and praise.  I am timeless.  I am the alpha and the omega.  The one who was, is, and yet to come.   Well, I'm already here...  Anyway, that's a story for another day.

Until then, don't bother paying dues to the catlick sanctioning organization.  The way I see it, if you're in club catlick, you are paying their sanctioning organization to have a relationship me.  Get rid of the middle man.  Do business directly with the source.  It's cheaper to do business directly with me.  It feels better and our relationship will be stronger.  Think of our relationship as a bungee cord instead of a rubber band.  Why?  Because a rubberband is small and it breaks when under stress.  A bungee cord - man - those have amazing elasticity and they stand the stress of time.  I love bungee cord jumping, too.  It really gets the adrenaline pumping.

Less I digress...

The only thing I see the catlicks learning from their sanctioning of confession is the mortals actually feel remorse for the things they do.  Maybe you jackals could learning a thing or two from them - it's called remorse.  Idiots.

Yo, club catlick - stop being sin nazi's.  What people do is none of your me-damn business...  It's my business.  I say this to Pope Frakenictus - "NO SIN FOR YOU.  GET OUT."

Peace to you which is all human understanding - Jesus!

I spoke to mother nature

So...  I'm sitting in the living room and decided I would check in with mother nature.  She has a Godphone, so I initiated a facetime session.  She was a ravaging lunatic.  It's like... she is hitting "that stage" in her life when the sun sets on her youth.  The truth is realized that fertility has snubbed her for someone or something new, something borrowed, something blue.  The economy is improving.  People are finally starting to upgrade again.

It was awful.  She was complaining of Hot Flashes, being all moody and such.  She makes Bi-Polar 1 look like as smooth as silk.  This chick was all over the map.

I didn't know what to say - everything I tried was met with either inappropriate crying or outright hostility.  I thought I was talking to a crazy lady.  I told her I loved her and I needed her to take care of all things meteorologically orientated for the mortals, and how valuable she is to me, the mortals and the operation of Planet Earth.  She provides a valuable service to maintaining happiness among you and keeping the ecological environment of Earth in delicate balance.  Working order.  A state of homeostasis.  You know - to give you the ability to grow food.  Transport goods, friends and family.  Facilitate social interactions, athletic recreation - everything taken for granted.  The bright, sunshiny days.  The gentle rain.  The gray of winter.  The violent storms with thunder and lightening.  Snow.  Earth.  Wind.  Fire.  You get the idea - I need mother nature and I count on her to take care of baby planet Earth.

As I watch her getting ready to respond, the next thing I see is horns growing out of her head - like satan's. I was freaked out completely.

I asked her to hold on for a sec.

I run to the 'medicine cabinet' and grab some weed and roll a doobie.  Light it up.  Inhale.  Hold.  Exhale.  Repeat the standard 3 times.  Plus one for good luck.   Ah, serenity now.  I waltz back to the living room to return to our conversation.

She is huffing and puffing and goes into all this non-relevant mumbo-jumbo about this and that.  I'm like, "Whoa...  I think you need to take a moment to collect yourself before we can continue talking."

Good me.  She looks at me and goes into this diatribe about I have never seen the fury of a woman scorned.  Well, I do know a scorned woman.   I stood by her as she was being humiliated and ostrasized by a group of men.  I say to them, "he who is without sin may cast the first stone."  They scowled at me, blushed and turned away.  Those guys were acting kinda juvenile if you ask me.  Anyway, I get down on my knees, give her a hug.  Kiss her cheek.  Lift her up.  Give her a pat on the head and send her on her Mary way.  From that point forward she makes a positive change in her life.  She is woman.  Hear her roar.   So yes, in a nutshell, I do know how to deal with nutjobs.

But, oh no...  She isn't wired like a normal person.  She goes off on this tangent about how she is so upset.  No one cares about her.  How can I possibly understand what she's been through.  Blahblahblah.  I tell her to chill.  She says "CHILL?  I'LL GIVE YOU CHILL. YOU %$#*!"  Whatever.  I politely discontinue facetime because it was blatantly obvious there was nothing I could do to restore a working relationship. Any attempts to further reconcile our relationship would be met with more crying.  More whining.  More dining.

By this time, I'm stoned out of my mind.  So relaxed about the entire situation.  I light up some incense to hide mary jane's odor - I can't deal with the fuzz doing some kind of raid while I'm trying to self medicate.

Less I digress....

So, I'm sitting in my house.  Meditating while watching my lavalamp do all kinds of crazy stuff.  I listen to the dull roar of your prayers.  My mind begins to wonder and I gently glide to sleep.

I wake up and I'm like, "man, it's really cold this morning."  I look at my thermometer.  It reads negative 85 degrees.  I turn on the news.  What the?  There is this huge winter storm in the states.  We're talking 30 out of 50 states with record lows.  100 million people affected.  Snow.  Ice. Earth.  Wind.  No fire besides the man made kind used to keep warm.

Dude - I didn't realize mother nature was such a wreck.  She's crazy.  How dare she jeopardize  happiness of the minions.  I think it might be time to post a job opening on the Jesus, Inc. (NYSE:  JSUS) website for a new environmental engineer.

The posting will start like this:  "World's most powerful and recognized brand seeks stable and competent environmental engineer.  Successful candidate will be working on long-term project maintaining and manipulating a dynamic ecosystem.  The ability to stir drama without getting carried away is a plus.   Excellent compensation package well above industry average.  Qualified candidates are welcome to submit a cover letter quickly summarizing what you'll bring to the table, a detailed resume'.  References are unnecessary.  Say a prayer and hope you get hired.  Don't call us.  We'll call you.  The one with the best prayer winds.  Please understand this is a temp to hire gig."

My purpose in not hiring a full time ministry assistant right off the bat is to test drive the candidate.  Make sure the candidate is the right fit for my organization and fellow team members.  You know how much I enjoy test drives.

Love, Jesus.
Commander in Chief
Jesus, Inc.