Rev BIOU's Dream House

While searching for some old post that google’s archives have since devoured, I came across some meaningful lessons in Theology that I shared with the SubGeniuses shortly after X-Day 2009. I wanted to archive them here, to inspire me to remember more critical facts in what will probably become an ongoing series of damning blasphemies which I will regret when I’m cracklin’ in the brimstone someday.

BIOU13, in response to a Blasphemer Who Suggested that Jesus was Not Italian: Once again, your knowledge of history appalls me. Allow me to school you.

Jesus was the Big Boss of his Area in Ancient Italy. He ate a lot of macaroni, but he was able to stay so thin by his many long sandal hikes through the ruins of the day, which were much older and more ruined than the current Ancient Italian ruins.

He went by the name Don Jesu, because he was named after the Jesuits, who invented the gold crucifix necklace, a popular fashion accessory of the day worn by many Ancient Italians with their v-neck toga undershirts.

Whenever he found a temple, he would beat the shit out of its moneylenders. That earned him the mafia nickname Jesus the Facebuster. He did collections for the Bigger Boss of that General
Region, the God Father.

After many years of service, on the occasion of his 33rd birthday, he was promoted to Consiglieri and a celebratory dinner for Him and 12 of His goombas was held at Louis' Seafood, where the Jesus Fish was invented. It is still served at mafia gatherings to this day.

Unfortunately, he got whacked. But after three days He rose again, moved a giant rock and ascended to Heaven in a golden gondola.

(At this point in the sermon, Rev. Chuck Key presents a question: I hope the Italian Jesus is Catholic.)

BIOU13: Of course he is Catholic, because he celebrated Easter. And on Good Friday you could barely get him to leave the house for some reason.

A little known Theological fact is that Jesus invented the Easter Egg, purely by accident. He was making breakfast when he accidentally sneezed on a bowl of hard boiled eggs. Jesus sneezes rainbows, as a result of God Blessing Him every time. God has one of those unique senses of humor, kind of like a Genie, so the blessings Jesus got from all those sneezes amounted to some unusual superpowers. In addition to sneezing rainbows, His farts smelled like strawberries.

(At this point, it became evident that Rev. Anna Dynamite is also a theological scholar, as she informed the congregation of the following: “You know that thing people do where they snap their fingers then quickly clap one open palm against their closed fist? Jesus invented that.”)

BIOU13: That is true, He did. He was giving a sermon on some Mount, listing all these things that were blessed. He got through the part about those that mourn, and the poor in spirit, and He was trying to remember who it was who would inherit the earth. He did that a couple of times and then it came to Him - the weak!

And someone thus did shout from behindeth a dumpster, which hath been inexplicably parked up there on thee fucking Mount, "doesn't thou mean the meek, Don Jesu?"

And He madeth of his fingers two little guns, and did with them a "pew! pew!" gesture, and spake, "Bingo! Thanks, bud. I meant the MEEK."

The sermon is ended. Go in peace.

I usually reserve these notes for the greatness of poetry, but NOT TODAY.

Because last night, I had a dream. Several in fact. This note is about one of them.

Thank you, NyQuil capsules. My dream was in Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish.

It was a comedy set at a funeral. A stupid griever was draped over the casket where a young man was in repose. She was pounding on the casket lid, screaming, “!No puedo! !No puedo!”

Crazy music started playing, and President Obama burst in with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He danced flamboyantly down the aisle to a podium, pounded his fists on the top of it and screamed “!SI – Podemos!”

Everybody at the funeral started screaming it, and then the dead guy sat up in the box, with all his bad pancake makeup and blushy cheeks and screamed it too. The grievers went batshit, throwing their hats around. The studio audience was laughing their ass off. My dream had a studio audience!

I was kind of standing in the sidelines of this spectacle, just like I would be at the filming of a real Spanish television show. Considering I was generating the entire thing in my big human brain, I had very little to add to the scene.

I woke up from my NyQuil sleep a few times last night, but that dream really had me scratching my head. I don’t know how accurate the Spanish was, and what the fuck?