 | Jesus is coming … |
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… look busy. (version .01)
… and boy is He pissed. (version .02)
Yup … we parochial types are in the middle of the Lenten season, supposedly doing some type of dietary acrobatics while waiting for the Big Cheese to make His annual appearance. For some weirdly odd reason we like to kill him every year and then bring him back. I guess we’re et. al what the BDSM community would call "switches" — crucifying the fuck out of ourselves and our heroes at every opportunity. Thank goodness for safe words. Kyrie eleison; Christe eleison; Kyrie eleison.
Now if you’re the type who needs a Butterwick pattern to live by, you just won’t ever get why I do not think all of the above (and the joke below) is even slightly incongruent with the fact of my heart-felt belief (more of a "knowing") that God does indeed exist.
I just don’t get all the fuss and all the rules. I mean, after all, rosaries have many other uses besides rote prayer and confessionals are downright handy-dandy when you wanna grab a nun on the run and get down and dirty. In fact, I recently participated in an extremely blasphemous Sister Angela and Father Bill role-play which was simply scrumptious.
And I do have a smiley face rosary.
I also happen to have a smiley face magnet that says: My God is an awesome God.
And he is. So there.
Which is my long way of getting around to sharing a Lenten joke, courtesy of my sister, Bethany, via her inter-office email (she works so hard!):
Each Friday night after work, Boudreaux would fire up his outdoor grill and cook a venison steak. The problem was that all of Boudreaux’s neighbors were Catholic. And since it was Lent, they were forbidden from eating meat on Friday. But the delicious aroma from the grilled venison steaks was causing such a problem for the Catholic faithful that they finally talked to their priest.
The Priest came to visit Boudreaux and suggested that he become a Catholic. After several classes and much study, Boudreaux attended Mass and the priest, sprinkling holy water over him, intoned, "You were born a Baptist, and raised a Baptist, but now you are a Catholic."
Boudreaux’s neighbors were greatly relieved. But their respite was short-lived. Because when Friday night arrived the wonderful aroma of grilled venison once again filled the neighborhood. The Priest was called immediately by the neighbors, and, as he rushed into Boudreaux’s yard clutching a rosary and prepared to scold him, he stopped and watched in amazement.
There stood Boudreaux, clutching a small bottle of holy water which he was carefully sprinkled over the grilling meat while chanting: "You wuz born a deer, you wuz raised a deer, but now you is a catfish."
As Mistress V would say: Sweevil-icious!
Oh, and did you know that Jesus Loves Porn?
xo, Angela
“Boudreaux” is a new character. Thanks, Bethany! (Are you sure he’s not a PQS-creation?) I hope we hear more of him. And a happy Lent to you, Miss Angela!
Now that was funny. A real knee slapper from the porch of my trailer….
A Catholic girl! No wonder you are so ornery.
Hugz sister I love ya!!!