while sitting in traffic the other day, i saw the latest bumper sticker to annoy the fuck out of me. this one read "1 cross + 3 nails = 4gvn".
of course, there was eye rolling aplenty in my car.
i googled it when i got to work and found some girl's blog where, upon seeing the same sticker, the scottish guy she was riding with said, "what the fook is a gvn". that made me laugh.
i won't get into the misconceptions about crucifiction that many christians have (e.g., they didn't typically go through the hands, but instead the wrists), but i wanted to address this bumper sticker (of course).
i just don't get the symbol of the cross. even if you don't believe in god, as i don't, you probably are aware that crucifiction is a fucking terrible, terrible way to die. go rent "the passion of the christ" if you don't believe me.
my point is, don't you think jesus has some pretty bad associations with that particular time and symbol? i can picture the following scene taking place in heaven:
INT. GOD'S OFFICE IN HEAVEN.
Jesus Christ lurks outside, nervously debating whether or not to knock.
JC: (knocking at god's door) hey, dad? dad? got a second?
god: of course, my son. i was just allowing some fucker to walk into a church and kill the pastor who tried to use the bible as a shield.
JC: yeah, that's pretty funny. i'm sure our followers will chalk that one up to your will.
god: i know, i know. totally wasn't my idea, but what am i gonna do, waste the effort to stop just one guy from getting shot? i have bigger fish to fry.
JC: i know. listen, um, dad, i was just walking around the united states again and..
god: (lecturing tone) jesus....
JC: no, i was dressed like a homeless guy again. no way anyone recognized me. i even shit and pissed myself to be more authentic.
god: go on.
JC: fyi, people who claim to be our followers are really fucking mean to the homeless. might wanna follow that more closely.
god: noted.
JC: anyway, you really wouldn't believe how many crosses are down there these days. it's like the cross store had a going out of business sale. you can't swing a leper's diseased dick without hitting a cross.
god: well that's good. people still have our message after all these years.
JC: well dad, that's why i'm here. can we talk about that whole dying on the cross thing again?
god: jesus, we've been over this.
JC: i just can't wrap my head around it. just let me talk it out, ok?
god: (relenting with a sigh) fine.
JC: ok, so you're all-powerful, no?
god: bet your robe-wearing ass i am. i said, 'let there be light' and do you know what happened?
JC: yes dad. there was light.
god: (snapping his fingers) motherfucking light. and that was just day one.
JC: dad, back to me.
god: ok.
JC: so we've established that whatever you say or wish will come into existance.
god: damn skippy.
JC: so tell me again why i had to get the ever loving fuck tortured out of me.
god: so that mankind could be saved by your blood.
JC: see, that's where it goes off the rails, dad.
god: how so?
JC: if you have to power to will fucking light into existance, why couldn't you just proclaim, 'let them be saved'? i mean, i could still have gone down there and preached and all that jazz, but i just find that whole goddamn, er, sorry, that whole damn ending unecessary, given your power.
god: (looking thoughtfully at jesus) hmm. that's a valid point. i could have done that. (pause) aw fuck it, i guess i might as well tell you.
JC: tell me what?
god: it was showmanship.
JC: come again?
god: showmanship. if you had gone down there, preached, walked around in your filthy sandals, and then been all 'ok, dad says you're all saved now, thanks and goodnight, be sure and tip the waitstaff', nobody would have remembered that shit.
JC: aw, fuck's sake. i went through that for showmanship?
god: look, i'm sorry, but when they were whipping the shit out of you and pushing those fucking thorns in your head and rigging you up to the cross, i mean, you can't buy that kind of publicity. you gotta leave them wanting more.
JC: dad, it fucking hurt. you ever get whipped by one of those cat o' nine tails?
god: can't say that i have.
JC: well maybe after you're done with the floods and all that, i'll show you what it's like.
god: don't get lippy, jesus. that was a long time ago.
JC: fine. it just doesn't help that every time i turn around, i'm staring a fucking cross in the face. couldn't they pick a better symbol? i mean, that was like a couple of days. i was down there for 33 years. let's make them switch to a nice sandal or robe or even a lovely beard. i have a really nice beard.
god: you have a fine beard. but the PR firm i hired insisted that the cross works the best. you should have seen how it tested. off the charts.
JC: don't these people realize that coming to me with a cross around their neck is like sending a postcard from auschwitz to a synagogue? hey, guys, let's relive the torture, starvation, and ultimate gassing to death. the weather is great here in auschwitz. people should just be more fucking sensitive.
god: well that's a good point. but there's really nothing we can do about it now, is there.
JC: i guess not.
god: anything else you need today, son?
JC: naw, i'm late for a handball game with sinatra.
god: sinatra? he's not up here, is he?
JC: (laughing) fuck no! but this is the loser's bracket of the tourney and it's being held down there.
god: well good luck, son.
JC: thanks dad. i should be able to beat him in mysterious ways.
FADE OUT