And the little boy got to be sunburned in the process, suffering now and increasing his chances of skin cancer later in life. Praise Jesus!
Still, sounds like a better gig than wearing the Goofy suit on a 95-degree day at Disneyworld.
Jesus's touch causes sunburn? Shit.
And a lifelong, uncontrollable BDSM fetish begins.
Well, the way Mel Gibson's career's been going lately (and given his apparent bent in that direction), he can always moonlight as a Jesus. Hey, it's still show business, at least!
Ah, the innocence of childhood. Too bad my parents didn't take me to see a live action version of Jesus' death when I was a tot.
Very powerful imagery, that whole crucifixion thing. Consider that it has enslaved most of the Western hemisphere for nearly 2000 years (and did so successfully BEFORE the advent of television or the printing press).
Ever visited Spain or South America? There's a giant cross on a hill outside of just about every town looking down on the population. Inquisition indeed.
Where do I sign up to cast some stones on his bloody ass?
That parent's a baby. If she really wanted to get her kid the full on crucifixion experience, she should take him to the Phillipines on Good Friday. A dozen or so people get crucified for real each year.
FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS FUCK ME JESUS
Fifteen years ago, I took my three kids to the Norwegian May 17 Day parade in my native Ballard. I planned a fun, Norman Rockwell-like evening, sharing a bit of my childhood with my kids (who were six and under at the time).
Between the usual bands, floats and local officials, a small fundamentalist Christian church had an actor portraying a VERY bloody Jesus carrying his cross down the parade route. Not only that, a Roman soldier followed him, hollering and cracking a whip. There was stunned silence, then a few people watching the parade started to boo, which made it even worse. (Of course, they were booing the display, but it sounded like they were booing Jesus himself.) My kids (who had never been exposed to much of any religion and certainly not the whole Passion of Christ thing) were totally confused. How do you explain this to a six-year-old?
It was so surreal -- I still can't believe it after all these years. Being raised Catholic, I'm no stranger to over-the-top Jesus stuff, but this was different: it was forced upon people without their consent.
Now that I think about it, I guess I did get to share some of my childhood with my kids -- but the scary Jesus part wasn't what I had in mind.
I found this reprint of a Seattle Times article about it:
From the article: 'At one point, one adult yelled, "Whip him again!" Joan Hansston said, and at another, "a little boy did say, 'Shoot him in the head.'"'
Yeah, I think they're getting the message.
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