My husband is NOT Jesus

Posted by admin on June 28th, 2010 filed in General, Guest blogger

Enjoy this rant from Vernaple’s first ever guest blogger (who happens to have long black hair and a nice goatee and has been told he looks like Jesus fairly often in the ten years I’ve known him), Bert!

Okay people, I really shouldn’t have to say this but…

I am not not your messiah returned.
I cannot walk on water; I cannot even float. I sink like a stone if I’m not constantly moving. This is due to an odd physical trait which will come up later.
I will not raise you from the dead; death is simply the release from obligation. Returning you to that would be cruel.
I offer you no salvation; you do not need to be saved from anything. Well, in the sense religious types mean it anyway.

All of the “Hey. you look like Jesus” stuff wouldn’t bother me except for 2 major points.

First, there are some creepy parallels. No father, I mean that as close to literally as is physically possible, nothing listed on the birth certificate, never met the man, and have at various points in my life sincerely doubted his actual existence. The whole concept is a void in my mind that I am currently filling myself, but that is a discussion for another time.
One of my names means “Son of man.” Some christian types tend to put a lot of stock in that phrase, interpreting it as the apocalyptic name of the messiah, or somesuch beautiful gibberish. I put a lot more stock into names than i rightly should. This has led to much fretting sleeplessness.

I’ve spent a great deal of time between early childhood and now studying the belief structures of human beings. I may manifest myriad miraculous measures of magery, but the same is true of you. Again a discussion for another time.

Newton loves me. I’m more likely to be thrown than injured. I can move like a spider, and for largely the same reasons.My height and weight are such that you probably could hang me by my hands on a cross. I’ve done some rough math for it, it should work, I would rather not test it.

Which brings me to point 2. It creeps me out when someone tells me they think I look like Jesus, especially religious people. They are basically telling me that they want to see me suffer horrific agony so they are off the hook for….. something they can’t quite explain in any way that involves rational actors. It is even worse when, after telling me this messianic madness, they proceed to hit on me. Really, if your divine representation of all that is holy and sacred showed up, you would try to fuck it? Seriously People? Maybe THAT’S why your messiah hasn’t come back, fear of being groped by every third person. Don’t you people have a story about what happens when you try to fuck the divine messenger? Then again, there is a whole lot of “Foot Washing” in those books. Religious texts always have the best porn. I learned that early on.

So to reiterate, I am not Jesus. But assuming for a second that I am. Let me bring up a couple of points.
“Eye for an eye, Tooth for a tooth.” Is an admonishment against overreaction, not a demand for retribution. Context! Its your friend.
The cloven hoof, chews the cud thing is a way of saying, “Don’t eat predators.” Which is good advice, they are full of parasites. Most of these rules have more to do with spreading disease or the social problems of living in close quarters than anything else. There are usually two ways to interpret religious prescriptions in a text. One is as a sane and rational suggestion to improve the quality of your life. The other is as a literal command from god and usually sounds ridiculous and difficult to follow. I favor the former interpretations. Most religious types, including atheists, favor the latter.

And I know, Yeah I know because of KRS-1, “The only way you can walk the earth living your live like Jesus Christ, is when you believe you yourself ARE Jesus Christ.”

One Response to “My husband is NOT Jesus”

  1. Aloysius Says:

    Reminds me of this joke (I don’t know why… Maybe Bert told it to me.)

    One day, God is totally bored out of his mind and decides to take a vacation. Only problem is, he can’t decide on where he wants to go. He asks St Peter for advice.
    “Why don’t you go to Mercury?” suggests St. Peter. “It’s nice and hot all the time, you could work on your tan, relax in a sauna…”
    God says “No, it’s way too hot”
    “Well how about Pluto then?” tries St. Peter again. “It’s really cool, you could go skiing, do some ice fishing, maybe shack up with a cute little snow bunny.”
    God says “Ugh, no, way too cold”
    Peter then hits upon Earth. “It’s right in the middle, you’ve got warmth and heat when you want it, you’ve got mountains and skiing when you want it, it’s got pretty much everything you could ask for from a resort.”
    God says, “No fucking way. Last time I was down there, knocked up some bitch, started all sorts of shit”

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