The following is an op-ed article written by Jesus.
Seriously fam. See that guy’s shirt in the picture above? Stop wearing this stupid shirt.
Ever since I met those Roman soldiers in the Garden of Gethsemane, you guys have been causing problems for me. Back then I was nice to you guys. I even told Peter to put his sword away.
But maybe I should have let him have at the lot of you morons.
Now I — the number two man of the Trinity I remind you — will deconstruct this stupid T-shirt. To understand why I’m so much better than the average American soldier, you can’t just consider we both offered to die for you. You have to consider pole positions.
Take your average American soldier. Loser. Aside from his sin guilt, which is higher than normal and the whole reason I died to begin with, he’s got nothing going for him. He watches too much porn. He cheats on his PT test. He’d cheat on his girlfriend if the loser had one.
Now take me. Unlike you, I didn’t start out as a fatherless nobody from Washington, D.C. I started from heaven as the living God, just like my father. Now let’s talk moms. Mine was the most pure virgin who ever lived.
“Pure virgin” are not the words used to describe your mom after the age of 12 — and I would know as I know everything. Your mom was the second-best waitress at Denny’s and that’s about it.
Now let’s talk dying for you. Unlike most American soldiers, I’ve actually done it. And no, I didn’t get my head shot off for being a dip shit and not taking cover when the shooting started. That would have been mercifully quick.
No, I got my ass whooped hard three times (I let them win), then was forced to carry a cross practically the size of a tree up a mountain, just to be nailed to the damned thing. Then I was left to hang there as I was agonizingly asphyxiated over the course of a day by my own body weight.
Sound fun? And it wasn’t just me up there. Unlike your fat ass, my height and weight is well within regs and I’ve never had to tape. No, I was up there bearing the weight of all of your sins too. Every time you porked a Filipino whore, add another pound to the weight I bore, jerk.
After getting scourged, crucified, and dying, I was back to work three days later. I didn’t even get a profile despite bearing the scars of my crucifixion. And since Satan runs the VA, you know I’m never going to see a penny of disability.
Not even your so called ‘Greatest Generation’ did that.
You guys won’t shut up about defeating Hitler and killing Bin Laden. Big deal. I descended into Hell, breached the gates by myself, and defeated Satan in his own territory. And I did it while I was dead.
Really guys, I don’t mind the sacrifice. I signed up for it — just ask God the father. It was my pleasure to serve, and you’re welcome for my service. But every time I see this shirt, I want to start flipping tables. Stop comparing me to you POGs.
Even your Special Forces are POGs compared to me. I mean seriously, y’all need Jesus.
Justin Coates and Lee Ho Fuk helped to edit this divine message.
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