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Honestly I’m surprised all the different groups of fairy tale people remain far more at war with other fairy tale people than their common threat: rational people that need credibly sourced evidence to entertain extraordinary claims.
They can’t stop measuring their imaginary friend’s dick and claiming it’s bigger than other people’s imaginary friend’s dicks, despite the fact that a larger and larger share of humans are acknowledging that neither has any dick (or anything else) to begin with.
I mean, what’s the greater heresy? A) My imaginary friend has slightly different rules and expectations than yours, or B) wow, you’re a nutter talking to imaginary friends you sincerely delude yourself actually exist as an adult, that’s kind of sad…
But my magic man looks out for me.
Sorry to have to break it to you, Jesus, but those are obviously my footprints.
Look closely. See how those footprints have that wavy tread pattern on the bottom, just like my docksiders? If they were yours, they’d make a sandal mark, like the footprints next to mine a little farther up the beach when I was going through better times.
See the footprints at the time of my divorce? You’ll notice that the sandaled footprints drift off from the docksider ones. They lead to that picnic bench over there, the one with the cigarette butts scattered all over. It appears that in my darkest hour, instead of carrying me, you sat on a stump > and had a couple of smokes. Real helpful, Jesus. Real helpful.
Sure, the sandal footprints came back when I got that big job promotion, but right at the point where my son Tommy died, they veer off again. Actually, now that I look again, it seems like there’s an unusually large distance between each of the sandal-wearer’s footprints around the time of my son’s > death, as if the person were actually running away.
I’m sorry, Jesus, but your whole story about carrying me during my worst moments just doesn’t gibe with the facts. Besides, you’d certainly think a person would remember being carried by the Son of God, right? That’s a pretty memorable thing, wouldn’t you say? Well, either I’ve got amnesia, or you’re a liar, because I don’t recall ever being toted around by the Messiah. The only thing I do remember about my worst moments on the path of life is the horrible feeling of plodding along the > cold sand all alone while icy rain fell in sheets and chill winds assailed me.
So thanks, Jesus. Thanks a bunch. You were really there for me when things got tough. Asshole.
https://www.theonion.com/it-was-then-that-i-carried-you-vs-bullshit-jesus-tho-1819594262
I must disagree a little. Food will fall from the sky - with the right weapon and some grilling action…
Oh, and men do turn water into Wein. It is just a rather long process and usually involves grapes ;)
I love this meme, thank you for it
