Science: most of the time it’s telling you how cute the thing threatening to eat the galaxy is, how it could travel through time if it could just discover the thing that would be able to travel through time, or telling our penises things they already get. But now, science has decided it’s its job to tell us when Jesus ate dinner.
I didn’t realize there was a controversy over when the last supper happened. But then, I know that there are entire message boards devoted to Star Trek ship registry databases and the in service lifespan of an Excelsior class starship. Some people take their favorite fiction genres very seriously. I just assumed that Easter fell on a Sunday, because we all had the day off and would have plenty of time to find any eggs that the kids didn’t discover so that the yard wouldn’t start smelling like a semi-pro fart competition by Wednesday afternoon. But naturally, as with just about anything pertaining to this two thousand year old Tolkien novel, even Jesus’ last sit down nosh is surrounded in controversy. And I’m not talking about the Da Vinci kind, this one doesn’t center around the painting (the original which, if I understand correctly, was painted on the back of the Declaration of Independence) but about, brace yourself, contradictions in the bible itself! I know!
So Paul, George and Ringo apparently said in their respective chapters that the meal took place during Passover, while Davey Jones said it was before. And since it’s so damned important to know exactly when Jesus had his last bagel and lox, some damned Professor at Cambridge decided to figure it out with damned science. He will of course be damned as a heretic only to be forgiven a few centuries from now, because that’s how the church rolls.
I think the least important detail of the entire story of the Last Supper, is PROBABLY the day on which it took place. But apparently this contradiction of when they tucked into a nice brisket makes it hard to take the Gospels as… gospel. But in a book full of giants, talking snakes, eight hundred year old men and a guy on horseback, flying down from the sky wearing a stack of crowns, I think I can let a simple confusion on exactly what day Matt last passed the basket of knish to JC, go.
I, personally, wish Easter wasn’t a holiday. Not because I hate brightly colored egg searches or hollow garden critter shaped chocolate flavored treats. I wish Easter wasn’t a holiday, so that I could see the kind of insanity that would ensue if someone proposed to make it a national holiday, today. It would be magnificent! Imagine, in this day and age, trying to get a nationally observed holiday celebrating the execution of a major religious figure from a big book of Godly sword and sorcery. I guess it would be a lot like trying to get anything NOT Jesus related to be observed by anyone. Remember when Muslims wanted to build a place of worship on the same hemisphere as “Ground Zero”? Imagine them trying to get a dirty A-rab holiday recognized in God’s America!
Oh, how I wish I could see something like that. The parade of stupidity that would certainly bring out. The disputes and arguments, all of which would directly contradict which ever arguer’s book almost entirely. The world is so horrible, so many people are idiots enough on their own, why do we feel the need to spark up a holy book club bitch fit just to come up with some other reason to be dicks? But as much as Team Jesus whines and cries about people calling Christmas vacation “Winter Break” or Easter egg rolls “Spring Oblong Circle Tumbles”, imagine if anyone would dare to tell them that they couldn’t have a new holiday celebrating the ass kicking of a lifetime that their son of God took, as Mel Gibson so lovingly chronicled on film.
And you know, on a mostly unrelated note, it seems odd how much Mel hates the Jews when he made so much money with his movie about the most famous one… Oh well. Where was I? Oh right, Jesus got the shit kicked out of him… You know, for me…
Have a pastel egg. It’s what Jesus would have eaten.
Have you ever looked through your grandparents old toys? Rifling through some of Grammie and Grampie’s old hoardables you come upon piles and piles of things that, if you were to give them to your children today, would probably result at least in your children being taken from you and at most, your justified execution for grossly negligent child endangerment. Every single toy that your grandparents grew up playing with was designed specifically to kill them. Everything was made of wood and lead and cholera. They were designed to shoot things and stab things and melt things. There was no part on any jagged steel toy that was not too big to fit snugly in your wind pipe. And yet, the weird thing is, you exist. Not only that, but your parents exist. Billions of people are alive today despite the 1950’s best efforts to murder each and every one of their children in as fun and exciting ways as possible.
But you’ll notice that we don’t have any of those fun toys any more. Now everything is made of Nerf and edible plastic. If you even try to throw any of your children’s toys they immediately disintegrate in the palm of your hand. And if one of these day glow, dull edged, squishy yawn blobs gets anywhere near a child’s eye or groin it immediately sends out a distress signal, and emits a low, inaudible hum that instantly sedates the child for 17 hours. Fun doesn’t exist anymore because stupid children ruin it for everyone.
But forget dangerous toys lurking in the darkness, waiting to strike, that threat has been neutralized. Today our weakest generation is being terrorized by beverages.
I like energy drinks. I am an energy drink connoisseur. I have partaken in just about every fizzy neon tinted can of jitter swill on the market (my favorite of which by the way is diet “Howling Monkey”, both because it’s red and delicious and because it’s called “Howling Monkey”, so incase you were looking for something for my birthday…) I’ve even tried Four Loko and somehow found it within’ myself to survive the horrible killer of men. But I am apparently one of the lucky ones who hasn’t been assassinated by these devious, clearly labeled, super caffeinated beverages.
A new report published in the Medical Journal Pediatrics warns that caffeine is bad for babies.
Yeah. We get that.
Caffeine, like tobacco, like alcohol, like crystal meth, like heroin, like chocolate and hugs, is a drug. It effects the body’s chemistry, producing a marked change in its behavior and physiology. When I was growing up, my parents and grand parents wouldn’t let me drink coffee. Not that I ever had a real burning desire to drink the hot smelly black liquid, but they knew that it wasn’t for me. Of course they also smoked a billion packs a day directly into my face, but who knew what then? The point is, people knew that children didn’t need to be hopped up on the Black Horse.
Why do kids need to be drinking these gigantic cans of straight caffeine and “caffeine-like” ingredients anyway? I personally don’t care if they do, hell, feel free to shoot your kid in the eye ball with a needle full of crank if you want to, I find that it’s entirely none of my business. My question is, why do kids need stimulants? As I understand them children are annoying, destructive bundles of boundless energy and screaming all on their own, without the need of rabbit adrenalin and hummingbird piss, which you do know are what Taurine and Guarana are right?
Of course, just like the reason we don’t have awesome murder toys anymore, most of this report is utterly overblown, manipulated and or fabricated bullshit.
Not to say that some idiots aren’t abusing something to the point of personal harm, but the risks are insanely over blown and manipulated. While they say that the risks of these drinks include everything from heart palpitations and seizures to “sudden death”. They also make sure not to quantify drink related complications of deaths. And the death reports that they do cite are of European teens who either mixed the energy drinks with alcohol (a personal favorite of mine by the way) or who had epileptic conditions that may have increased their risks.
So in the end, what they’re warning people of is not energy drinks, but human stupidity. If you drink enough water, you could die. You could literally drown in your own body. You kidneys fail, you die. From water. If you do too much of anything, it can, and likely will, kill you fucking dead. In a culture of over indulgence that can’t take responsibility for its own actions, everyone has to blame the makers of the things they can’t stop shoving down their eat holes for what it does to them. It’s not Mortimer F. Redbull’s responsibility to make sure you don’t drink too much of his tasty beverage because you broke the thing inside you that tells you you’re done drinking. If you’re going to let your kid drink enough Monster that they begin to hallucinate, then maybe it’s not the fault of the Pepsicola company that you’re a bad parent.
You’re all the reason I can’t buy sharp, cast iron, lead dipped, army man bites to play with in the back yard anymore, and you’re not going to take away my Siezure Sippers now too!