Happy Easter to all you believers out there, and as for ye heathens, I’ll say a prayer for you that you don’t burn in eternal hellfire.
Christians have just got to be psyched this week. I mean, if you really believe that Jesus literally died and then somehow ROSE FROM THE DEAD, how can that not change your life? Am I right? So thank you to the one true Catholic Church for preserving the glorious tradition, and thanks to the Jews for their work in the B.C., and also for crucifying the Messiah – because, duh, he wouldn’t have been able to rise if they hadn’t killed him.
I really love being Catholic because we’re right, because we don’t have to bother with reconciling inconsistencies in our faith (there aren’t any), and because there’s so much to get excited about: Christ really rose from the dead, Confession can really forgive your sins, and our sermons are shorter! It’s win-win-win!
I popped this line of excited reasoning on some fallen-away Catholic at the bar on Saturday after the Easter Vigil mass, and he ate it up. He didn’t even get offended when I told him he’d lost his faith… my exact words, I believe, were these: “I mean, I still have my faith, and you’ve lost your faith, but, you know, you’re still a person.”
He said, “right, right.”
But then I told a racist joke, and apparently we weren’t advanced enough in our relationship for that kind of intimacy (intimate relationships are all about judging others), so he tried to fight me, but I was in a peaceable mood and he eventually cooled off. We did shots, but then he started getting weird again when I told him I would pray extra hard for him. I guess I just don’t understand non-believers. Jameson, on the other hand, I understand full well.
But enough bar talk.
I’ve had an interesting development lately. Nothing as interesting as getting fired from my job or growing a fourth testicle—I mean, a third—but intriguing nonetheless.
Foreign people (here we go stereotyping again – isn’t it fun?) seem to have a big thing for pigsex. Ever since I happened to mention that a couple of times in this post, the foreigners have been flocking to this blog in droves. It’s pretty creepy.
At my last count, folks from no fewer than 26 foreign countries ended up on that post after searching “pigsex” or some derivative thereof on Google. That’s more than puzzling, that’s disturbing. I mean, they can’t all be swine-breeders, can they?
Most of them are in and out in a blink, probably because they don’t speak English. But one guy from Uzbekistan sent me an email that said: “You pigsex section is disappointing.” Well, anonymous Uzbeki, I’m glad it was, I really am.
Then I said a prayer for him too. Jackass.
Just today, I realized something—and I want to leave you with this… possibly the most profound thought that I’ve ever had:
I can only sympathize with masochism when I’m pooping.