The ongoing story of Jesus waking up in Chicago, in the body of an agnostic writer,
who is nothing like the Son of God the right-wing Christians watching him expected.

You are welcome to share my work with a link bank... keep getting asked this...

Last time I was here, I told them I would not lead a revolution, that I was there to spread heresy. The crowds thinned. The day they killed me, I marched alone... This time I have returned to find Romes Soldiers Sleeping, content they have killed off the Troublesome Jew. I was surprised how bloody the Indiana boy became as my sword fell again and again ....

In the years since this story began in 2007, my secret fame has spread out from the halls of power that kept me secret all these years, as they waited for the Christ to finally wake up...

I try to imagine their anticipation.

Remember a dream I had in my twenties about running thru Chicago screaming that Christ was coming back, and man oh man was I happy... a cloud came through the middle of the skyscrapers above me, in the thin strip of blue above Dowtown State street, and I expected to see Christ... instead, just a bunch of musicians painted up like Ziggy stardust.

I surprised my keepers. They thought they had me figured out from the Bible. If that book could have told you everything, there would be no need at all for me.

Jesus: "I have become Known across this planet as a dangerous man with a growing force of hidden followers who value my orders more than life itself. A prophet of war. Once and future King in a court of shadows. Life and death in my hands every damn day. I ROAR, your most mighty shit themselves and run. I make myself a known threat, so I can try to negotiate what otherwise requires bullets and blood. I am here to free the enslaved in body and mind. I cannot be defeated. When the Will of God and The WILL OF THE PEOPLE ARE ONE, NO FORCE ON EARTH CAN STOP US!"


We come into this life expecting too much and leave expecting too little

Monday, April 11, 2005

Another damn pumpkin pit got me busted...

This tale occured three days before halloweed, though I could only write about the events once the court proceedings were over. Even now, I am under orders not to 'promote man vegetable love.' Like I would, jeez... All because I happened to stop at a road side farmer's market, and like I told the judge, had the misfortune of accidently running into a vegetable pimp.

He was there in court and I pointed at him as I told the judge, "He was keeping those vegetables on the street all day, and all night, forcing them to keep servicing clients by the usual brutal, horrifying methods of pimpery... "

That damned judge just told me to shut up and my attorney started looking all embarrassed for what seemed like the hundredth time (I assumed this constant uncomfortablness on my attorney's part was caused by some psychological damage that had been done to him by a sarcastic clergyman at an all male secondary school in England, and when I indeed asked him as much to prove my speculation, he answered, "You do think that, don't you?" Which I could only take as an affirmation, of course).

I only stopped at the stand to buy a pumpkin for halloweed related stuff. It was nothing like that veg. pimp said when he testified. The creaky old bastard had the nerve to wear the usual outfit of a vegetable pimp into court-- overalls and a truckers cap, but when I pointed this out to the judge, he had me gagged.

I'll never forget that old fart telling the shocked courtroom, "Now, he came up looking sorta normal... but then he kept rubbing all the squash and moaning. Hell, I thought he was sick to the stomach... Me and Ma didn't even know freaks like this existed. She is still in shock,you know? Can't even get her to cook any vegetable at this point. No, not a one."

Now, none of this happened ... No, I remember this quite different. I went up to the stand and this 'player' was all like, "We got some real hotties here. These bitches been out in the sun all day, geting hot and ready for you."

When he said this, I didn't even know what he was talking about. He could see I was confused, so he started suggestively rubbing the nubile yet rough and ready exterior of a dwarf pumpkin. When I realized what he meant, I was a little insulted that he assumed that I only needed a dwarf pumpkin.... This is also when his wife happened be coming up from the house while on the phone with her daughter, the local mayor, and they both heard me say, "Now, a dwarf pumpkin would barely hold the head of my monstrously large genitilia."

I mean, I never would have said this, let alone loud enough that those neighbors down the way would hear, if I was a vegetable rapist. No, I would keep everthing hushy-hush. On the other hand, when your penis has been declared tiny by someone who has no chance of ever being able to see if you are lying or not, one has to declare their manhood massive, if not outright freakishly large. Everybody knows this... except that damm judge and the jury and of course my lawyer.

I had to lie about everything to M.... I told her that I was going to court for punching out this senior citizen because his walker was taking up too much of the sidewalk, again... She didn't like this one bit, but it was believable, because there have been incidences... and this is a hell of a lot better than trying to explain to her why my pet name for her is Squashy.

Thank dog M. had to work on the court date. I came home from court and told her I had been found innocent, because I payed off a nurses aide to give the complaning party enough kaopectate that he wouldn't be leavingthe toilet this week. I knew if I said something criminal, she would respond with her usual wariness about being charged as an accesory and tell me not to tell her.... and yes, it worked.

The real trick will be convincing her that my campaign to stop the greenhouse effect from being the latest sin of the 'wealthy don't give a fucks' (a campaign I will keep up, until it involves more than spouting a few words) is now evolving into a plan of action, with me going out and picking up garbage along county roads. I added that I should wear a bright color, maybe even orange, and that if I could get enough people to go with me, we might even qualify for a police escort?. SHe seemed to buy all this... we'll see.

Knowing M., she'll do something sneaky like read the paper tommorrow and see that damn mug shot of me -- where I have one eye closed, one half open, toungue half out, long hair inexplicably standing straight up on the sides and top.... they even have some kind of special camera that was able to show my six hours worth of stubble!!! The cop who took the mug show was like a reverse artist -- he had to take like eight pictures before he had one ugly enough to be a mug shot. And of course under tha vile photo will read... GUILTY... CHARGED WITH... VEGETABLE MOLESTATION... TEN HOURS OF COMMUNITY SERVICE IN A VEGETABLE FREE ENVIRONMENT....

They'll probably quote the judge making his asssanine remark after the trial, "Hell, if I could, I would keep this freak out of every vegetable aisle in this country. I sure as hell hope he runs from a cop or something on his way home. You hear me sherriff? I said I sure as hell hope...."

What the judge didn't know about the sherriff was that he shook my hand once when no one was around and told me, almost in tears, about the love he had during his teen years, for a small summer squash named ethel, who he had to horrifyingly enough watch rot away....

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