SB's ass slept until 11:00 today. That's when the Disdainful One started meowing and bitching at me to get my lazy ass out of bed and feed her. Meanwhile, Mr. SB headed for Easter services at church. I told him that if I were Jesus, when some motherfucker rolled back the damn stone to the tomb on Easter, I'd have said, Come back later. I just got nailed up on the cross three damn days ago, you insensitive motherfuckers! My ass is tired, and frankly, I'm a little sore. Roll the damn stone back over the opening! That way, my Holy Ass could get some more sleep. There's nothing like the pristene quiet and darkness of the tomb to cop some quality Zzzzzs. [SB wears a sleep mask, but a tomb would work better.]Also, if SB were Jesus, I'd get tired of motherfuckers wanting me to heal the damn gooey-ass lepers and the sick all the time. I'd also get pretty damn tired of stupid motherfuckers asking me stupid damn questions. I'd be smiting dumb asses right and left. There is a reason I am not the Son of Man. God knew what he was doing.
The cool thing about being the Jeez would be that you could make your own wine--as much as you want--whenever you want. Hot damn! I'd be partying with all the whores and thieves, because, let's face it, who wants to party with a bunch of boring damn Christians? As I said, there is a reason I am not Jesus.
SB is with John Lennon on his take on the disciples--those motherfuckers were dolts. The Jeez calmed the angry seas, multiplied loaves and fishes, and walked on water, and those thick fuckers still didn't believe he was God. I think the damn disciples would be riding the short bus if they were alive today. The only one I liked at all was Peter, Son of Thunder, because Peter had a short fuse and he went off all the time. I dig Peter. It seems to me he was more of a believer than a doubter.
There's SB's short synopsis of the New Testament, people. Happy Damn Easter! I don't have any eggs or chocolate candy to give your asses. Consider this my gift to you.
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