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Jesus Blasts the Liberal Elite Media

July 10, 2013


Jesus talked to reporters yesterday after two thousand years of refusing interviews.  The Son of God appeared before forty print and electronic media members. He was dressed in a navy blue Armani suit and a power tie featuring images of William F. Buckley Jr. Gone were the beard, long hair and blue eyes – turns out that the Messiah’s irises had always been brown. He had a short, neatly trimmed goatee and a receding hairline.

He began the press conference by outlining his activities during the last two millennium. After the “whole crucifix thing,” he went through a period of extreme soul searching, since, he said, “souls are my business.” He retreated to a corner of Heaven called Archangel’s Alley, the Greenwich Village of the celestial world. There he read and re-read the trash mystery novels that Euclid wrote on the side under the pseudonym Clid Yoo – and reflected on his three-year endeavor to “wash away the sins of the world.” His Father had opposed this “youthful folly,” thundering that people are shit and should not be coddled and told that each had a special soul. In the end, Dad looked the other way as most parents do when their kids go through their idealistic phase.

“In fact, when I was hanging on that damn cross asking Dad why he had forsaken me, he was on the golf course with some god buddies bemoaning how young Messiahs these days are nothing but ne’er-do-well hippies sponging off their so-called uptight parents. Later Dad called it tough love. Zeus said he had to do the same thing with Apollo, who had finally settled down with a nice girl in the Elysian Fields overseeing the lute-making branch of the family business.”

Eventually Jesus began taking night classes on Supreme Being Management and Holy Accounting. There he met his future wife, Elsa, a Redemption major with a minor in Exorcism.  Mary Magdalene had been nothing more than a youthful fling, “and thank Christ,” laughed Jesus. “Mary ended up putting on a ton of weight. What a cow.” It turns out that the bovine Mary enjoyed a nice second act in India.

Jesus went to work for his father, starting out in Sin Analysis, a department run at the time by St. Paul.

“Paul was a task-master. We worked long hours and ate a lot of Chinese take-out, but I was a better god for the experience.”

Jesus learned the entire Judeo-Christian business top to bottom. He especially enjoyed the Inquisition.

“And this is the problem I have with you media Liberals. You think I had nothing to do with burning witches and the medieval torture of heathens. That the seven-hundred-year-old Jesus was the same guy as the thirty-three-year old idealist who said, ‘give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.’ But we all grow up, and responsibility teaches us that people need a kick in the ass.”

At this point, Jesus took a swig from his bottle of Avian water.

“Nowadays I run the Judeo-Christian Sports Enterprise. Just the other day, my grandson, Jesus III, a long-haired hippy type, like how I used to be, started getting on me about not intervening enough in the NFL and the NBA. He said, ‘Gramps, all those athletes pointing up to you after scoring a touchdown or executing a slam-dunk, and you give them hardly anything.’ I said, “Kid, you know my field manager, Knuke Rockne? Well he had it right when he was a mere mortal: God favors the team with the best players.” Athletes,
like all people, have to learn to pull themselves up by the sandal-straps.

“For a while I did make an exception for Tiger Woods. I made sure he got the so-called lucky bounces, especially when he drove the ball into the trees. Half the time I would move a thick branch just enough to get the ball to carom back onto the center of the fairway. And that thirty-foot chip shot on the sixteenth hole at the 2005 Masters – do you really think I had nothing to do with that? Or nothing to do with making sure the same thing did not happen to Chris DiMarco on the eighteenth? Then I turned on Tiger, as he started to believe that he was the Chosen One, the one with the inherent power to cause other players to piss in their pants whenever they were atop the leaderboard with Tiger. Well you know the story, boys. I made that man a mere mortal again and now even the groundskeepers treat Tiger like he is just another hacker out there on the course.”

A bold reporter interrupted Jesus to ask if he had become the ultimate frontrunner.

“There you go again,” said a testy Jesus. “Listen, I like a winner, plain and simple. And winners deserve a little help.”

But that’s un-Christian, answered the reporter.

“Hey, pal, don’t tell me what’s Christian or un-Christian. I wrote the book on Christianity. And I say, Bomb Iran back into the Stone Age.”

The Son of God then launched into a wild tirade on camel-jockeys and that asshole Muhammad, which ended with him talking about his complicated relationship with Satan.

“You know, Satan and I are like brothers. Just the other day, Elsa and I had Satan and his new wife, Anna Nicole Smith, over to watch football. We told the wives about the time we spent forty days and forty nights in the desert at each other’s throats. But you know what happens when two guys get into a knockdown, drag-down fight – they eventually become friends. I’ve come to respect Satan’s contention that humans are weak and cannot be trusted, and he has come around to my viewpoint that those humans who help themselves should be given some additional help from the gods.”

Then Jesus stood up and thanked the reporters for their time, adding that he hoped he would not be misquoted too much, like how he was by those dunces, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.


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