Which is your favourite Jesus?
- hallucienate
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How'd they manage that then?wild bill buttock wrote:I saw a programme on the telly and they pinpointed Jesus's birthdate to April 17th 6AD
Jesus' first miracle: he was born twice:
According to Luke's gospel, Jesus was born during the Census of Quirinius in 6AD
According to Matthew's gospel, Jesus was born while Herod the Great (who died in 4BC) was on the throne.
Both can't be true...
Who he? Pretty much all we know about him is that he was crucified. The rest is part of the myth.Erudite wrote:The historic Jewish one. Not this Roman myth that has given us two thousand years of "Paulianity" and patriarchial oppression.
*ahem* yes, me too.Erudite wrote:And there I go, ruining another light-hearted topic.
Hate pm's to the usual address. Thank you.
My favourite too.timsinister wrote:
The fundamental cause of the trouble is that in the modern world the stupid are cocksure while the intelligent are full of doubt.
—Bertrand Russell
—Bertrand Russell
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I like the dead one nailed to a tree.
A nice guy I'd imagine, but his followers can be the biggest cnuts in the universe.
A nice guy I'd imagine, but his followers can be the biggest cnuts in the universe.
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I trust you trust in me to mistrust you
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Sean Derry, pre-haircut
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Ozpat wrote:The Life Of Brian one...
'Right, hands up those who dont want to be crucified next to a Jew?'
God, Schmod, face? bovvered?
LAND ROVER: THE BEAST FOUR BY FOUR BY FEAR! KICKS THE ARSE OFF RICEBURNERS!
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I gotta go with the Easter Sad Christ too. Cos surely being nailed up all over the Easter bank holiday weekend couldn't of been much fun for him.
Out there in the burning sun then the cold and bitter night in just his Y -Fronts and that spikey head band - and to top it all, he didn't even get any easter eggs.
Mind you, he must of been a bit miffed when he woke up in that cave and realised it may of all been a dream. But he got his own back at that meal when he threw that big dinner for all of them and his brid Mary gate crashed it and pissed off millions of scholars years later
Oh and then he got off with out telling anyone and was never seen again - bloody hippy!!
Out there in the burning sun then the cold and bitter night in just his Y -Fronts and that spikey head band - and to top it all, he didn't even get any easter eggs.
Mind you, he must of been a bit miffed when he woke up in that cave and realised it may of all been a dream. But he got his own back at that meal when he threw that big dinner for all of them and his brid Mary gate crashed it and pissed off millions of scholars years later
Oh and then he got off with out telling anyone and was never seen again - bloody hippy!!
"It was great that Kurt Cobain shot himself when he did..cos without that ,we'd have no Foo Fighters today" :Ramone, Little Lebowski Urban Achiever. November 2008
- wild bill buttock
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The photographs of God I bought have almost faded away
"...and Jesus came driving along and parked his Car...."
Being brave is coming home at 2am half drunk, smelling of perfume, climbing into bed, slapping the wife on the arse and saying,"right fatty, you're next!!"
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"I'm Jesus Christ, whether you want to accept it or not, I don't care"
(as we seem to be doing quotes)
(as we seem to be doing quotes)
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"If the real Jesus Christ were to stand up today, he'd be gunned down cold by the C.IA."
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i hate all jesuses.
we've got beer and we've got fuel
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I called Jesus ... he's not home.
Or possibly just avoiding my calls.
Or possibly just avoiding my calls.
анархия
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If Jesus drove a motor home, I wonder would he drive pedal to the metal, or real slow? Checking out the stereo.
Cassette playing Bob Dylan, motivation tapes. Tricked up Winnebago, with the tie-dye drapes. If Jesus drove a motor home...
If Jesus drove a motor home, and he come to your town, would you try to talk to him? Would you follow him around? Honking horns at the drive thru. Double-parking at the mall. Midnight at the Waffle House - Jesus eating eggs with ya'll. If Jesus drove a motor home...
Buddha on a motorcycle, Mohammed in a train. Here come Jesus in the passing lane... but everybody smile, 'cause everybody's grooving. Ain't nothing like the feeling of moving with a bona fide motorized savior. Now if we all drove motor homes, well maybe in the end, with no country to die for, we could just be friends. One world as our highway. Ain't no yours or my way. We'd be cool wherever we roam - if Jesus drove a motor home.
Cassette playing Bob Dylan, motivation tapes. Tricked up Winnebago, with the tie-dye drapes. If Jesus drove a motor home...
If Jesus drove a motor home, and he come to your town, would you try to talk to him? Would you follow him around? Honking horns at the drive thru. Double-parking at the mall. Midnight at the Waffle House - Jesus eating eggs with ya'll. If Jesus drove a motor home...
Buddha on a motorcycle, Mohammed in a train. Here come Jesus in the passing lane... but everybody smile, 'cause everybody's grooving. Ain't nothing like the feeling of moving with a bona fide motorized savior. Now if we all drove motor homes, well maybe in the end, with no country to die for, we could just be friends. One world as our highway. Ain't no yours or my way. We'd be cool wherever we roam - if Jesus drove a motor home.
Y quedo llorando, llorando, llorando, llorando por tu amor
- smiscandlon
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And Jebus is my favourite Jesus anyway.
анархия
- wild bill buttock
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Corinthian wrote:The Crass one - died for his own sins. Not mine
I am no feeble Christ not me. He hangs in glib delight upon his cross, above my body. Christ forgive. FORGIVE? I vomit for you Jesu. s**t forgive. Down now from your cross. Down now from your papal heights, from that churlish suicide, petulant child. Down from those pious heights, royal flag bearer, goat, billy. I vomit for you. Forgive? s**t he forgives. He hangs in crucified delight nailed to the extend of his vision, his cross, his manhood, violence, guilt, sin. He would nail my body upon his cross, suicide visionary, death reveller, rake, rapist, lifefucker, Jesu, earthmover, Christus, gravedigger, you dug the pits of Auschwitz, the soil of Treblinka is your guilt, your sin, master, master of gore, enigma. You carry the standard of your oppression. Enola is your gaiety. The bodies of Hiroshima are your delight the nails are your only trinity, hold them in your corpsey gracelessness, the image I have had to suffer. The cross is the virgin body of womenhood that you defile. You nail yourself to your own sin. Lamearse Jesus calls me sister there are no words for my contempt, every woman is a cross in is filthy theology, in his arrogant delight. He turns his back upon me in his fear, he dare not face me. Fearfucker. Share nothing you Christ, sterile, impotent, fucklove prophet of death. You are the ultimate pornography, in your c**t, cockfear, manfear, womanfear, unfair, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare.
JESUS DIED FOR HIS OWN SINS, NOT MINE.
The photographs of God I bought have almost faded away
aye...that's how i remember it toowild bill buttock wrote:Corinthian wrote:The Crass one - died for his own sins. Not mineI am no feeble Christ not me. He hangs in glib delight upon his cross, above my body. Christ forgive. FORGIVE? I vomit for you Jesu. s**t forgive. Down now from your cross. Down now from your papal heights, from that churlish suicide, petulant child. Down from those pious heights, royal flag bearer, goat, billy. I vomit for you. Forgive? s**t he forgives. He hangs in crucified delight nailed to the extend of his vision, his cross, his manhood, violence, guilt, sin. He would nail my body upon his cross, suicide visionary, death reveller, rake, rapist, lifefucker, Jesu, earthmover, Christus, gravedigger, you dug the pits of Auschwitz, the soil of Treblinka is your guilt, your sin, master, master of gore, enigma. You carry the standard of your oppression. Enola is your gaiety. The bodies of Hiroshima are your delight the nails are your only trinity, hold them in your corpsey gracelessness, the image I have had to suffer. The cross is the virgin body of womenhood that you defile. You nail yourself to your own sin. Lamearse Jesus calls me sister there are no words for my contempt, every woman is a cross in is filthy theology, in his arrogant delight. He turns his back upon me in his fear, he dare not face me. Fearfucker. Share nothing you Christ, sterile, impotent, fucklove prophet of death. You are the ultimate pornography, in your c**t, cockfear, manfear, womanfear, unfair, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare.
JESUS DIED FOR HIS OWN SINS, NOT MINE.
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.