Happy Jesus (That’s Me!) Resurrection Day!

Happy Resurrection Day, My faithful sheep! I hope the Easter Bunny shits many money-filled plastic eggs in your yard, blessing you with the spirit of Jesus. Oh, that’s Me. Well there are a few things you might not have known about Easter that I hope to brighten your intellect with. So let’s get started.

First, the Easter Bunny is real. He’s actually a mutant retard after the Chernobyl incident. And before that it was a Hiroshima “victim.” And before that it was just a regular, old retard. The next one in line is Stephen Hawking. If you don’t believe Me that the Easter Bunny is real, I have a picture to prove it.

easter jesus

Take that, unbelieving assholes.

Another myth is that I actually resurrected. Sure, I died on the cross and they put Me in a cave. But when they went in and I wasn’t there, I was actually just hiding in the back of the cave shooting up some heroin. The dumbasses were just too damn lazy to search back in the cave a little further.

The other most prominent myth is that I rose to Heaven. But, again, I must blame it on the heroin: I slipped some in My sheeps’ drinks and played some tricks on them. That included a hippy-inspired, heroin-driven party where I threw my robe into the sky and ran out naked really quickly, making them believe I have risen into Heaven. I actually went to a brothel afterwards and ate a few Easter eggs, if you know what I mean.

So enjoy a day commemorating My drug use and promiscuity. And if you do see the Easter Bunny, don’t touch him or he’ll give you AIDS. I swear.

Peace be with you.

Just Because I’m Bored

Sometimes I like to surprise all of you fucks. Gotta keep you in check just so you know I am watching you.

jesusanswer

Fuck that crying statue shit; get out the grilled cheese!

Holy Shit That Was a Ride

Three days ago I smoked the best weed of My life. It’s not like the shit My apostles and I used to smoke out in the back of the temples. And in the ark. And on the mountain. And in the desert.  This was the good shit you get straight from sweaty spicks down in Guadedopé or some shit.

immortal combatAnyway, so we’re smoking the pot with some hippie dudes in western Canada when suddenly I was confronted with a dinosaur. Seriously. I could have sworn My Dad just made those things up to throw off retard evolutionists and, you know, all paleontologists, but apparently one of them came to life and tried to fucking eat Me. So I whipped his ass.  I took this picture as evidence for the nonbelieving faggots.

So I’m pretty sure that makes Me the cause of the extinction of the dinosaurs, yet again making geologists and paleontologists look like the fucking retards they are, with their stupid asteroid, volcano, and insect theory. Fuck them. Believe in Jesus, motherfuckers. Or you’ll end up like the motherfucking dinosaurs.

Rawr.

Goin’ Shoot’n in Colorado

My Dad and I went out shoot’n today in Colorado, and We both ended up in the news. He did His usual shit: go over to a church, destroy some shit, maybe kill a couple people. What the hell is neat about that? I, on the other hand, went after a youth center dorm. Now that’s fuckin’ awesome.

gun crossMany people think they’re safe in a church. Especially Mexicans trying to hide from My Jesusland authorities. But history hasn’t been so kind to that theory, as oftentimes a church is the first place My Dad and I think of when We’re feeling destructive.

Oddly enough, most sheep still come together, praise Us, and rebuild the church.  While We find that entertaining, We really appreciate it, as it gives us a new target for lightning strikes, floods, and encouraging those damn atheists to commit arson.  That last one is Satan doing that… not Us, of course.

Some people ask why We permit such things to happen to our own people.  The simple answer is that it’s entertaining.  Sure, We’re busy giving out home runs and paychecks, but when We really want to have some fun, We go out to the nearest church and kick its ass.  Then you rebuild it, and We kick its ass again.

It’s a never ending cycle of never ending fun!

Peace be with you!

Halo: Holy Combat

Thank you to the sheep who got Me a new JESUS-BOX 360.  I’m proud to announce that, in time for My birthday, I’ll be releasing the best fuckin’ game in the world:

jesus halo

Halo: Holy Combat.  You play as Me, killing atheists, liberals, and brown people.  How fucking i33t is that?

What Would Jesus Buy?

After writing My Christmas gift recommendations last night, I took a look at a couple heathen atheist sites. Since My birthday is largely commercialized now, they pretty much all asked the question, “What would Jesus buy?” Well, you pretentious pricks, I’ve come up with a list of things I want for My birthday. I would buy them for Myself, but since I’m the Son of fucking God, I deserve at least a few birthday presents.

The first thing on My list is a new JESUS-BOX 360. I got one last year from Moses, but then some little poor kid broke it. That fucker.

jesus box

But you can’t just get Me one gift. Remember: I’m the Son of God. If it’s My wish, I can like kill you ‘n stuff. So treat Me well. …by buying Me more things.

Like a Lexus. While driving around in My modified Popemobile, I always see Lexuses with Jesusfish on them. I think that’s sort of like the gift card: they’re saying, “Jesus, this is yours if you want it!” Well I do want it, so get out of My fucking Lexus, you smelly bitch. And you can keep the Jesusfish. I would rather none of you know when I’m stopping off at the porno shop.

If it wasn’t My birthday, I’d probably also build a brand new, beautiful church. You know, not those tin-roofed ones you see in ButtFuckEgypt, but one of those grand, stone-walled churches with stained-glass windows, a gold-plated statue of Me on top, and stadium-style seating. That’s what I’m talking about, motherfucker. Don’t go cheap on Me, now. I want the good shit.

So go out and buy, buy, buy, My faithful sheep. Contrary to popular belief, it isn’t the thought that counts; it’s the price. So make sure you include your receipts.

The Atheist Compass

If you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t made a post for a couple days. What happened was I had to see what all the hooplah was about, and I went to see The Golden Compass. For those of you who don’t know, it’s a movie by one of those fucking atheists, and he even said he made it to make children atheists. Well, shit, it worked: I was gone a couple days because the movie converted Me, Jesus Christ, to atheism.

Fortunately atheism entails inherent immorality, so I came back to Christianity (you know, praising Myself) after being in a drunken stupor for a couple days. And not only have I come back to restore My honorable standing as a subdeity, but also warn you about The Golden Compass and its atheist message.

Golden CompassThe Golden Compass gets My vote for the worst movie of the year. It’s full of atheism, drinking, child pornography, and farting. Let Me explain.

See that girl over there on the right?  She’s an atheist.  And that little thing she’s looking into isn’t really a compass: it’s a locket full of pictures of Democrats having sex with aborted fetuses.  Not that aborting fetuses is wrong, but I never said having sex with them is OK.  Quite the opposite, really.

Then there’s drinking.  OK, that one is OK.  I did that a lot.  And it’s fun.  So scratch that one.

We’re down to farting.  I’m not even sure that one was in the movie.  It might have been Me since I ate a lot of chilly dogs before the movie.  But I’m pretty sure the movie contributed to it, and especially the smell, so that still counts as a knock against it.

So don’t go see The Golden Compass or you’ll end up a farting, fetus fucking atheist for a couple days, and you’ll have to rebound to Christianity by incessant drinking.  Not that that’s any different than any other Christian’s day, but it’s one hell of a come-down when the mind control of atheism wears off.

Damn compass o’ porn.

Another Vegetable Bites the Dust

As if you needed any more proof that I am the true Son of God, My post last night was damn near prophetic. One night I’m talking about how Terri Schiavo tastes like chicken, and the next day some ugly vegetable bitch dies and her family sues the insurance company. That’s good shit.

Terri SchiavoSo here’s the important parts of the story about this bitch: she’s young, a vegetable (dead as a fucking doornail), and she needed a transplant.  Her insurance company wouldn’t pay for it.  And let’s be truthful here: there are a lot of ALIVE people who probably needed that transplant more than her.  Anyway, like I said, the insurance company denies it.

Meanwhile, a bunch of equally ugly teenagers and nurses protest outside of the insurance company.  I’m not sure any of them realized she was already dead.  But, anyway, within a few hours after the insurance company changes their minds, the rest of her body dies anyway.  It’s about fuckin’ time.

Anyway, so it hits the media now that her family is suing the insurance company for, of all things, letting their already-dead child die… again.   As far as I’m concerned, the insurance company did them a favor; look how fucking ugly she is.  I wouldn’t fuck her with a stolen dick.  That’s pretty bad, coming from Jesus himself, who fucks fat chicks.

So thank My Dad she’s dead.  Finally there’s another hospital bed — and another organ — that can go to someone who is alive.  Of course I’m sure My retarded sheep will be all over this, praying or some shit, but don’t you worry: unless she gets really hot postmortem, she won’t be back anytime soon.

The Audacity of You People

You know, it’s the day before My birthday, and what are you doing?  Praying to Me.  For shit.  Today has been a day filled with Christmas parties, and many of these dinners have started off with a retarded prayer.  Asking Me for shit.  Shit I haven’t given you the previous billion times you prayed for the same shit.  Wake up, people!

At the very least you could offer Me something like a virgin sacrifice, especially since it’s the day before My birthday.

But it seems that most people have forgotten what this day is all about.  Fortunately, Huckabee, a wonderful Republican candidate, knows exactly what it’s about: ME.  Remember the story, people?

Nativity Scene

Yeah, that’s right.  My naked, little self came out of My mom’s cooch.  It was cold as shit.  Fuck that desert shit; it gets cold at night.

So before you start praying for more bullshit like “world peace,” “prosperity,” or a Wii, stop and remember that the day is all about ME, ME, ME, and that means you should give Me all of your good shit.  In the name of the Lord, of course.

Merry… My Birthday!

Happy Birthday to Me, Happy birthday to Me, Happy birthday dear… Meeeeee, Happy birthday tooooooo Meeeeeeee. Fuckin’ a, My good sheep. Today is My birthday, and I had a great fuckin’ time. Getting sweet presents, getting fat on animal carcass, and, best of all, being praised for being the Lord that I am. You can’t ask for a much better day.

Birthday JesusAfter all, I got a lot of good shit. I got billions of dollars, some more churches, and many more followers. Oh, and don’t forget the tax write-offs. Those are awesome.

But, as expected, I was supposed to give some things back, too. Yeah, well, I don’t do that. That’s right, people: I didn’t cure any diseases, give back any amputated limbs, instill world peace, or even give food to those who are starving. I was literally praised world-wide, and didn’t return the favor even in the least.  If anything, I allowed some more people to die and maybe even encouraged a little more war in the brown peoples’ lands.  Fuck them.

Anyway, it was a great day, and I’d like to thank you — non-monetarily, of course — for making it one of the best birthdays ever.  Except for you atheists, who can continue to FUCK YOURSELF.  I dually noticed the lack of presents of praise to Me on the best day of the year.

Merry Christmas!  And peace be with you.