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Tuesday, April 13, 2004

A true story about Jesus 

FYI: the chapter in Al Franken's new book about his trip to BJU (that would be Bob Jones University, for all you ignorant infidels) is highly amusing. I'm not sure what it is exactly that tickles me so about Christians, but I've definitely noticed a trend. ...which reminds of the time when I was with viagina and cronies on a road trip through Kentucky and Tennessee. After having my inquiry about obtaining a hunting license summarily and rather rudely shot down (har har no pun intended. seriously, i hate puns) by the desk clerk at a gas station convenience store somewhere in Tennessee (or was that Kentucky?), I thought I would find solace in the baby Jesus sweetly sleeping in the manger in the bushes in front of said store. Actually, I thought I would find solace in removing the plastic child from his resting spot and finding him a new resting spot strapped to the grill of our vehicle, but no matter, just as my hot little hands were mere inches from the young lord, I noticed the convenience store clerk (yes that very one that moments earlier had denied me a hunting license application despite signs in the window clearly advertising their availability) eyeing me suspiciously out the window whilst seeming to lean down and rummage for something under the counter. At that exact moment, one friend came running out of the convenience store snorting something about how she'd absentmindedly walked out of the store without paying for her coffee and only remembered as she was halfway out the door and we'd better get the fuck out of there now. Sadly, I had to abandon my Jesus liberation initiative and well, get the fuck out of there. Jesus, we're such assholes. gaaah!

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