Jesus of Nazareth, on Line 1

It’s Jesus. I saw you on MySpace.
You mean “Hay-Zeus”, that Latin guy on my friends list? Why are you calling me?

No, I mean JESUS. You know, Son of God, King of Kings, Lord of Lords. The Alpha and Omega. All that happy shit.
Sure. Whatever you say man. Listen, I don’t know how you got my number, but –

I’m JESUS CHRIST, for My sakes. You think I can’t get an unlisted number?
Whatever. I don’t have time for this shit Myers.

You don’t believe me? Would anyone other than Jesus know you’re deepest, darkest secrets – like that you almost committed suicide a few years back and were only saved because you were too cheap to buy a gun?
Sure. Anyone who reads my blogs. Besides, aren’t you being a little over-dramatic? It probably was just a coping mechanism.

You blogged that shit?
Yeah.

Oh. Well I only just subscribed. Haven’t got a chance to go over your old stuff. Have you blogged about how you wouldn’t rub one out to Colleen Smith in 8th grade even though she was hotter than the Madonna because it creeped you out to jack off to a girl you knew?
Holy shit! You ARE Jesus. I never told anyone that.

Yep. Now shut the fuck up.
Jesus Christ says the F-word?

I’m the Son of God. I sit at the right hand of the Father. I can say whatever the fuck I want. I once called Mary Magdalene a “cunt” right to her face when she got lippy. You know what she said?
Ummm –

NOTHING, because I’m Jesus F’ing Christ!
Oh. Well, I, uh �

And that’s exactly what you’re about to say, pal. Now shut that little Whopper-eater of yours and give a listen. Dad asked me to get some words out to the people down there, and I’ve chosen you to deliver them. I figured MySpace would be the cheapest and easiest way to start the media blitz.
You really think I’m the right guy for the job?

Do I have to answer that question EVERY FUCKING TIME?!? I’m Jesus Christ – I don’t make mistakes and I think I have a pretty good track record with you useless lazy-ass prophet types that you would just accept this shit the first time by now.
Oh, yeah. OK, I guess. What do you want me to tell them?

You got a pen and paper? You’ll want to take this down man âÂ?¦ I’m not making the same mistake that dumbass Gabriel did with the Old Testament. “I’m sure they’ll remember it right” my holy ass.
OK, got it.

Alright, here goes. I want you to get on MySpace and tell them, from Me and Dad: STOP FUCKING KILLING EACH OTHER IN OUR NAMES.
[Off line]

What’s that? Oh, yeah. Yeah I’ll let him know.
Let me know what? Who was that?

Settle down there, Thumper. That was Mohamed. He says to tell Muslims that shit goes for them too.
You talk to Mohamed?

Duh. We all serve the Father don’t we?
But the Muslims call us infidels. They try to kill us for not believing in Allah. It sure doesn’t seem like we’re serving the same guy when they keep blowing us up.

I said “we” serve the Father. Not “you”, fuckwad. If you go around killing each other, you still serve the same master, just the other master.
Oh.

Listen, EVERY moral religion serves the Father. You know what Allah means? It’s “The God” in Arabic. And all you Christians did was capitalize the generic term for a deity. For fuck out loud, when that dumbass Moses asked Dad for his name, we all thought you humans would get the fucking hint when Dad answered “I am that I am”.
I don’t get it.

Figures. You’d think this was The DaVinci Code or some shit. Everything needs to be spelled out for you humans. OK, here goes: Dad doesn’t give a flying fuck what you call Him or how you celebrate Him, so long as you do. There’s a reason why every moral religion has its own version of the Golden Rule. It’s because Truth is Truth, no matter the language.
Hey, you stole that from Louis Gossett, Jr. in Enemy Mine.

No, dickhead. I GAVE it to Louis Gossett, Jr. in Enemy Mine. Same as I spoon-fed The Chronicles of Narnia to T.S. Lewis.
Oh, Christ. No offense –

None taken. –
You mean that self-important British twit got it right? You mean to tell me that you’ve been talking to us all this time through POPULAR ENTERTAINMENT?

Not very effectively, apparently. It seemed like a good idea at the time-widespread distribution and all. But those Hollywood types always have to get all “artsy” with the message until you Springer-addicted dolts lose the message. Don’t even get me started on The Passion of the Christ; all I ask Mel to do is make a little indie celebrating Easter, and he spits out a fucking mega-budget holy snuff film.
But what about the televangelists and church leaders? What about them? Well they are always saying how you talk to them, and they’re pretty blunt.

Have you even been paying attention here? Are you kidding? Maybe they’re talking to someone, but it sure as hell ain’t me. They all want my job too much to listen to a word I have to say.
But if the church people don’t have it right, what should I tell people about the vital social issues facing us like abortion, homosexuals, the death penalty, premarital sex, and stuff like that? How do you want us to deal with all that?

Who says I want you to deal with it?
Huh? Didn’t you say you wanted me to tell people –

I WANT you to tell people to shut the fuck up and stop trying to get my job. Just leave each other alone, and let me sort out the good from the bad. One of the perks of being the bosses’ Son is, I’M the one who gets to do the judging, and I get to do it forever. So you all can keep on killing each other if you want, but stop fucking pretending you’re doing it for me because it pisses me the fuck off.
Oh. � That all?

Yeah.
Now go get on MySpace and hit ’em over the head with it like it’s a brick. That’s why I chose you, you know.

It’s not because of my large and faithful readership. Please. What, you get 100 subscribers and now you’re Isaiah? No, I chose you because you’re too stupid and uncreative to hide the message behind some artsy-fartsy crap. You’ll probably just put out a transcript of this phone call.
Well, I thought it would be clever if –

I don’t care. Just get it done.
Do you really expect them to believe me?

No. I expect them to kill you.
WHAT?!? But –

Hey, if they believe, they believe. And if so that would be cool. But if they don’t, and they kill you, I haven’t had a good Swiss chicken in white wine reduction sauce since we sent you down. So it’s a win-win.
Man. That’s cold. Hey, one more thing. I know you already know the masturbation story, but would you mind if I still did that one? I’ve been planning it for a week now.

Oh for fuck’s sakes.
CLICK.