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Sunday, 15 January 2012

image for Rick Santorum Evades Fire and Brimstone for Now But Faces Christ's Wrath in a Lawsuit Image of Jesus' Appearance in the Exxon-Valdez Oil Spill

Editor's Note: When I couldn't nail Jesus Christ down for an interview, I asked him to submit a guest column. On Monday, Jesus Christ filed a lawsuit against "Jesus Candidate", Rick Santorum, citing, "….fraudulent impersonation with intent to gain power over the feeble minded citizens of the Kingdom known as the United States of America…"

My Brothers and Sisters:

By now you know that circumstances have forced me to engage in a legal battle with Rick Santorum. The self-anointed Jesus Candidate is a wolf in sheep's clothing and, like the wolf, preys on the weakest and most vulnerable. Thirty thousand from the land of Iowa have become apostles of this interloper and, in my name, are spewing his vile word. I have no anger toward our Iowa brothers and sisters. They are poor dirt farmers who don't have the brains God bestowed upon soy beans. My wrath is directed at the imposter and, with God's reluctant blessing, I am taking this action.

The Jesus Candidate has vowed to use every weapon in his arsenal to nurture his fixation with the mating of every man and beast in your kingdom. Whether it be Sue with Timmy, Sue with Carol, or Timmy with Lassie, Santorum will be there as a witness and eager participant.

The Jesus Candidate has decreed that he will be "Guardian of the Womb" and will demand that each and every womb be filled, even if he must provide the seed from his solitary stone.

Furthermore, the "Jesus Candidate" will withhold lifesaving elixirs from those children not privileged to be born to fair skinned parents named Hansen, Jensen, Anderson and others like them.

As if all of these atrocities weren't enough the Jesus candidate presented himself in a knit sweater vest that neither the lowliest thief, the most brutal murderer nor the investment banker would use to wipe the dung from his ass.

Filing a lawsuit was not my first choice. To the contrary, I appealed to our Father to use the more conventional method of disposing of Rick Santorum. I implored Him to pull some strings to have Rick Santorum moved to the front of the waiting list for his entry into Hell.

Our Father refused and delivered one of His lectures about how I should turn the other cheek and trust in Him. It was the same as the other 5000 times. Clad in His gaping robe, leather thongs with black socks and a pipe dangling from His mouth, God repeated the same words that He has uttered since the year 9.

"Jesus Henri, my boy. Why can't you be more like Job?"

It gives Him immense pleasure to remind me of the unquestioningly faithful Job who, without so much as a, "Why don't you just shoot me, you sick Fuck?" watched as his herds and his children were slain and he was left with nothing but the festering sores that soon covered his body.

I vigorously protested that I am not Job and besides there are times that even the Son of God cannot turn the other cheek and that there must be something, anything I can do to stop Santorum from fulfilling his aberrant prophecies.

Then… enlightenment! I remembered the compromise Dad and Job reached about the sores.

God knew that self-flagellation was one of Job's few pleasures so, when it came time for Job's body to be covered in sores, God let him do it himself.

The Old Man couldn't argue with that logic and, after much deliberation, we decided to pursue a lawsuit, the path that citizens of your kingdom take to avenge all manner of evil deeds.

Brothers and sisters, thank you for the gift of your time. I close with these last words. His, of course.

"Jesus Henri, my boy. The faithful have reaped great benefits from even the vilest specimens of my creation. Through Rick Santorum I have given my faithful servants a never-ending source of laughter. Even the teeth gnashing wailers will get a temporary reprieve from their eternal sorrow".

Jesus H. Christ, retired political activist and author of several self-help books, resides in a high end gated community with his extended family.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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