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Jesus Saves

Date: Thu, 3 Jul 2003 16:18:27 -0400
Subject: Jesus Saves
From: blake
To: poker-night

Holy crap.  It’s Thursday already.  I remember last week I said to
myself, “Gee, maybe I should start writing the poker night email before
Thursday afternoon rolls around.”  Then today, as seems to happen most
weeks, I find myself sprawled out on my bed, sunlight leaking into my
room, listening to strange voices talking about Jesus as I pull myself
out of the haze of tormented dreams and I discover it is two in the
afternoon.  Some prankster had tuned my clock radio alarm to the
Christian talk radio station, I suppose that explains why Jesus has had
such a large role in so many of my dreams as of late.  There is the one
where I’m all nailed up on the cross, all these Romans are throwing
shit at me and making lewd comments about my mother, and my entire
third grade class is there too, running around and screaming, playing
like we used to do in the barren lot of sand we called a playground.
One of my class mates trips on a rock and falls face first into the
sand, her spine twists over her head in the wrong direction, blood
splashes everywhere and maggots crawl out of her skin.  I try to heal
her, it’s something I’m pretty sure I can do, but I’m nailed to a cross
and I’m powerless to do anything.  Then, I realize I’m in my underwear!
They all start to point and laugh at me!  I just want to go home, I
just want to go home, I wish it were the weekend, I don’t have my math
homework done.  Then I wake up.  Then there is the one where I’m a
private investigator and Jesus is my partner.  We drive around the
Middle East in a red hot rod converting pagans.  Our secret mission,
though, is to find the holy spirit, subdue it, and bring it in for
questioning.  I like this dream because I can also fly, and I can shoot
lasers out of my eyes.  Jesus is blind, but he can see the future, and
he is a kung fu master.  We somehow end up on Air Force One.  Jesus
pulls this awesome kung fu shit on George W., who wets his pants and in
a terrified little girl voice he tells us the Holy Ghost’s secret
identity:  Dick Cheney!

The scariest one is the one where Jesus is chasing me through the
streets of Medford while the sky is on fire and aliens on flying horses
are pulling peoples souls out of their bodies using that ghost
containment unit out of Ghostbusters.  He just keeps on chasing me.

In a related matter, Poker Night champion Dan “the madman” G. is in
town for probably one Poker Night only!  Back when Poker Night was
young and we still played five card and allowed nickels and dimes to be
used for betting, Dan would be all like, “I raise you seventy five
cents!” and we’d all be like, “whoa!  Dan ‘the madman’ G. is on the
warpath again!”  If my memory serves me, Dan “the madman” G. once bet
a thirty foot tall condor a dollar twenty five that his pair of aces
would take the pot, which was something like $7.00!  The condor took it
with three twos and made a lewd comment about Dan’s mother.  A fight
broke out, the thought police showed up, and Jesus had to use his kung
fu skills to save us from their lobototron ray guns.  Jesus saves, you
know.  It was that night that the council of elders decided that Dan
“the madman” Good. was simply out of control and exiled him to the far
reaches of contiguous United States.  The condor was slaughtered and
eaten.  I think the Earth was destroyed, but my memory is a bit fuzzy.

Peace to you all, my brothers and sisters.

Poker Night



“first hand at nine, asshole”

bring beer

bring quarters if you’ve got them, dollars if you don’t.



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