I touched a product at Bed, Bath and Beyond and now my hand smells like the lining of the coat of the old lady sitting in front of you at church. You know, she wants to smell nice for Jesus. I don’t know that he can smell her, or anything else for that matter. If my interpretation of the Bible is correct, Jesus is no longer in human form, and I’m pretty sure spirits don’t have the ability to smell a darned thing, so the drug store eau de toilette was wasted on the church crowd trying to desperately block their noses. Of course, Mom always said you should offer your suffering up to Jesus. I like to think that if Jesus was born and raised a human, even in spirit form, he’s got a lot of human in him. And as a human, he’s probably had it up to here with people offering their suffering up to him.
“Sweet Me, would you just cut it out? I mean seriously, ENOUGH. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. You people are crazy, and I am going to give you all shingles if you don’t cut the crap.”
In my world, shingles is a punishment from Jesus. That would explain why I’ve never had shingles and a lot of other people have. I have never made crazy demands of him for my team to win a major sporting event. Or for some chick at a public pool to show a little bit of boob. Or death to an in-law. I’m good people when it comes to bothering Jesus, and so I remain shingles free.