Jesus in a frying pan?
I've often been mistaken for a guy who doesn't give a shit. A sarcastic smartass, a cynical bastard, even a "crazy conspiracy theorist". But like I said, these impressions of me are all mistaken, because, although I certainly display traces of the aforementioned character traits, above all, I have always had faith.
Of course my faith has always been deeply invested in the collapse of society, the slow but unstoppable erosion of the collective intelligence of mankind, and the just plain old general dumbness of things.
I've always been able to back up my assertions of this faith. Take for instance, popular culture. The very worst music is guaranteed to outsell the others a zillion to one. Think YOU suck? Then you'd better get your ass on TV and quick, before somebody even worse than yourself takes the crown on American Idol.
How about politics? Don't get me started here. Because I truly believe that the world is run by a handful of people who do not have your best interests at heart. All signs point to this. Take any news story and I will gladly dismantle the spin for you.
Religion? The proof that religion is just a tool for controlling the masses lies in the devout fanaticism of it's followers. How could there be one God and so many religions? How can every religion be wrong, except whichever one you personally subscribe to? Besides, in these troubled times, why wouldn't a truly benevolent lord come down to earth to save his flock? How could our creator sit back and watch us writhe in our own shit, listening to the words of leaders who so obviously want to lead us to our demise? How could a truly loving God allow N'Sync or Milli Vanilli to happen? Ergo, God must be a big phony.
Well, I guess I've been proven wrong. It seems that our lord has once again sent his only son to save us. These must truly be the end times. Juan Pastrano of Prairie Lea, Texas was cooking his mother breakfast on a recent Sunday morning when a miracle happened. Although we're unsure of just what breakfast consisted of on that fateful Sunday morning, I'm betting it was migas. I always like migas on a Sunday morning. But then I also like pancakes and sausage on Sundays as well. Of course, I usually don't know what day it is anyhow until well after my third cup of coffee.
But I digress.
When Juan went to scrape the frying pan clean, there, staring back at him from the teflon, was the clear image of Jesus, the Son of God. Non-believers will scoff and point out the absurdity of Jesus' appearance. After all, we don't really know what he looked like. Religious historians have argued for decades about his attributes. But it's really quite obvious: The big J appeared to Juan in a form he would recognize-the classic long-haired, bearded Jesus of renaissance art and Bible illustration. It's just like that episode of The Simpsons, where Homer has a sexy new co-worker named Mindy, and he starts questioning his love for Marge, and then his guardian angel appears to him as Colonel Klink, since it's a form he'd recognize. Boy, that was a great episode. Still kind of hard to believe Colonel Klink didn't know about the radio in the coffee pot.
But I digress.
Recent news stories of a ten year old grilled cheese sandwich with the image of Virgin Mary which sold on E-bay for $28,000 would give skeptics another reason to question Pastrano's Miracle. But Juan isn't interested in selling his skillet. Not yet anyway. Of course naysayers wonder why the Lord would try to reach us via fried foods-but to the faithful it just makes sense in these cholesterol-soaked times. I'm hoping Juan will use his Miracle Skillet to help the less fortunate of the world. Imagine, with one piece of fish and a loaf of bread, he could probably feed the whole neighborhood.
by
John Bonham Jovi
