“Ye shall know them by their fruits.”

-Jesus

“Man of the worldly mind [. . .] do you believe in me or not?”

-Marley

“Nothing is so firmly believed as what we least know.”

-Michel de Montaigne

     It is that merriest of momentous festivial yearly-conclusions, when that Turkishly saint stuffs my socks with old trees and steals all my red hair ties . . . but I have plenty of pink ones, which, evidently, that night-flying Huckleberry and his Moorish companion are too frivolous to realize is simply light-red. I suppose then, though, they (being those ties with a light-redishly hue) would off-balance that Babbo’s dear crimson snow suit, lest it be faded or fluorescently ‘80s.

     But this all must be wrong; it most clearly ain’t right–that blonde-ginger fake news host (Ole Meganly Kelly) has televiciously tribed that Saint Nicholas is white . . . or was . . . I don’t know. That’s queer, I suppose; though, Old Clause could’ve been a geographical odd-ball with the purest of skin.

     This, once again, as believed by the Kelly, is a condition which has not only sabotaged the dermatological regularities of Santa Clause and Michael Jackson, but also the Jesus, whose well-documented monochromatic illumination greatly contributed to his founding of the United States some six thousand years ago . . . or something like that.

     Ah, yes . . . the one and only gentle Jesus. You know, the humble Jew who hates fags, kills the poor, heals only for profit, disenfranchises women, rides a horse, wears a cowboy hat, shoots black people, and accuses everybody of harassment and microaggressions. I mean he definitely didn’t go about bronze-aged Palestine (where whites are well-known to’ve retrospectively dwelt) sometimes on a donkey, or in sandles, hanging out with twelve totally heterosexual dudes and an energetically-clingy possible-whore. I guess Jesus could be a collaboration of all those contradictory, coincidently contemporarily-compatible dispositions . . . in which case he’d be kinda like Richard Gere–some rich douche, wooing a kind-hearted harlot (who may or may not have herpes . . . probably she does though). Yeah, I could live with a Richard Gere Jesus.

     Ah-hah, but no! Jesus is Alabama man-Jesus, and you can bring his extra-white ass to the motherfucking “bowling alley where he drinks heavily and chews tobacco.” Alabama man-Jesus is also “almost impossible to steer, and [he] glows in the dark.”*

     One thing’s for sure–Jesus has liberally-lengthy, lavantishly-locky, lovely long hair, which the other gospel of Matthew tells us has been worn up in a bun since the end of ‘04. I wonder if Santa steals his hair ties too . . . and on his fucking birthday . . . goddamn!

Merry Christmas Everybody!

-Matt

     BTW, my sister also has a blog called cafethenightaway.com. It’s much better than mine, so check it out!

 

Copyright © 2017 Matthew Bell. All Rights Reserved.

*Disclaimer: All references to Alabama Man and Wild Wacky Action Bike are the ideas and intellectual property of the South Park creators and are entirely their comical ingenuity.

Title quote by Charles Dickens.