Jane, the 3rd Coming .. the blood-drinking was a joke ..
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Jane never set out to be the 3nd Coming, anymore than she set out to be fat or a redhead. She chuckled frequently when she told Ace, her chubby chum, that she understood why Buddhaha had laid on the lard – it was the laugh ratio, the ratio of chuff to chaff. You can’t trust thin people to be seriously funny.
Jane had met Ace when he’d interviewed her for Carpe Comedy, a holozine he started on 02.11.2011, at the height of the planetary turbulence. “Well,” said Jane The Messiah, “ever since they so screwed up the reporting on the 1st Coming and now there's the entirely unnoticed 2nd Coming — so we are never ever doing Coming gigs without holovideo. You gotta actually see my lips move so you can’t lie about what I said.
“The Nazarene was an OK guy, but without the holovideo, he got seriously tabloided throughout a gore-fest of history that he never had in mind, nor in heart.
“That whole eat-my-flesh, drink-my-blood thing was an inside joke to get some guffaws around the supper table! Only crazy people would, like, do it.
“The point of the 1st Coming was supposed to be to perk up poor people – to sock it to the stupid greedy who were pointedly un-invited to the stupendous party in heaven.”
“Mz Messiah – may I call you Jane? – are you going to offer a less distortable delusion to pleasure the masses.”
Jane gazed at Ace for the first time. Sexy. Very sexy, she thought idly.
“A less distortable delusion. That’s our scheme, that’s our dream,” said Jane T. Messiah, laughing like a bowl of strawberry jello. “Not kill is, ah, hmmm, let's see — not kill. Not not kill with codicils. Not Not kill except if you've got on a different colored uniform (Murder by fashion offense?). Not not kill except when I hate your guts you stupid foreign (different [ skin; accent; taste in good cheese; quality of ululation. Check one]). <?xml:namespace prefix = o />
“Thou shalt have much more fun. Thou shalt not interfere with the fun of thy neighbor or of thy enemy. The endlessly tedious & unfun white aka pink splotched christians in the USofA Inc left out the very very funny Gospel According to BeelzebuB, the only non-sycophantish, non-power-serving Gospel that J.C saved for his own scrapbook. The others he turned into confetti — 'Who writes this kind of pious rubbish? They should take their meds,' JC told me before he left soon after the denouement of the 1st Coming for a refreshing galactic gallivant. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” />
“One of the white christians' 10 Greatest Sins — the real pornography — is that they are as terminally unfun as they are greedy. Note, Ace, that the ultra-holy Americans don't put the chiselled list of their 10 Greatest Sins of Seriousness on the CourtHouse Lawn.”
Ace said, “By the way, all I ask is that in even years, we change out the word God for the word Zeus on money, prayers, and in any pledges of allegiance so us good American polytheists get our turn. Fair is Fair.”
Jane impaled him with a green-eyed look. A nerve, he thought, I've struck a deitific nerve. He quickly said, “I hadn't heard of the Gospel According to BeelzebuB?” hoping to deflect a present but unclear danger.
“Of course JC was a polytheist, Ace. Not that you could call him a theist really, but he sure was poly. Poly and pan. All of his frisky and cheerful and artist-eye stuff got cut out of everything but BeelzebuB's Gospel. All this monotheism crap was a pure power-grab by the 12ftTalk Lizards in Human Disguise of the day. Had there been the Cuneiform Times back when, the Country Club Set is pretty much the same from millennium to millennium. Especially the simply ghastly nouveau riche like your present Bushes. There's nothing so agonizingly awful than a parvenu. These pipsqueak people have no class, only faux piety and genuine pretension. How one's skin does crawl at the idea that they are allowed in the front parlour. They are all noise and graceless greed.
“After a large and fattening lunch, we'll get to what a crock the creed of gigagreed is. But I want to say a bit more about poly and pan before smorgassnacks. Monotheism is as ugly an idea as ever reared its scaly head in the pantheon of Religious Wrong Turns. JC wasn't an Exclusiveist. Never. He was genuinely generous and gentle of mind. He knew that a simple holiness was tricky to come by and that everyone had one pretty piece of the Giant Spinning holoKaleidoscope. Nobody has it all. And nobody has none. Ye owls, Ace, I'm hungry. Waffles, eggs, bacon, syrup, himalayan amounts of butter, french toast stuffed with hell, and even an honest omelette to finish. Muy yum.”
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13 Serpent . Chicchan . East . tzol 65 08.05.05 fri
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Laughing is always the first casualty of imprisoning and exhausting the spirit as Theofascist America has done to most of its uncertain citizens. And by spirit I certainly don't mean some distant waffling vaporous thing like our vigorous dream phantom super selves. No I mean more what you call elan vital, our potentially cheerful, feet on the ground sensible (variously) s-elfs.
I don't think the Lizards realize that they've waked the sleeping Giant yet. The scale of their scaly greed is so grotesque that if it weren't that it's some hungry kids glass of milk, it would be funny.
The Return of the Guillotine — now that will be funny.
Remember that pure maple syrup restores deep humor even in the dark of the increasingly medieval night.
chuffest atcha, pog
snopes