by John Gotheborg
It was a cold and snowy night in Bethlehem when Jesus anointed Santa Claus as the Vicar of Christ. Paul (formerly known as Saul), an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, had gathered all the saints who were faithful in Him. They came from all around the world. There were Korean wise men in attendance, Saint Nicholas from the North Pole, and even a delegate representing the noble Native Americans. It was to be the biggest birthday party ever.
Of course, Jesus was a busy man in those days. Not only was He a famous rock ‘n’ roll musician and singer, but He had recently become the King of Kings. That meant speaking engagements all over, every day of the year. Poor Jesus barely had time to spend with little J.C. Junior, and Marie had long since shuffled off to Monte Carlo with her mother (and over half of Jesus’ record contracts).
So it was with great hesitation that Paul knocked on Jesus’ dressing room door.
“Heya, Jesus. I hate to barge in on Ya like this, but You know it’s that time of year again and I thought I’d throw You a big party. The fellas are all in town, and...”
“There will be no party this year,” Jesus said as the door creaked open. Paul lowered his gaze, for fear of catching Jesus in His birthday suit.
“What? No party,” Paul said. “Whaddya mean? We always throw a big party. Why, it just wouldn’t be Christmas without it.”
Jesus sighed and motioned obliquely to the unfurled papyrus scrolls spread all across the dressing room floor. “And this is only the good list,” He sighed. “I haven’t even begun to write the names of naughty children, and Christmas is just twelve hours away!”
“Aw, shucks, Jesus. Why didn’t Ya say something sooner?! I would have helped You out.”
Having eavesdropped on the conversation, Tarzan butted his nose in. Leaning his head around the doorjamb, he said in the primitive language of his ape people, “Tarzan help Jesus. Make Christmas big success, so children happy.”
Overhearing Tarzan’s kind words, the Korean spiritual leader Seung Huen Lee leaned into the open doorway, his exacerbated face appearing just below Tarzan’s. He said, “Korean saying go, ‘YOU WILL HAVE NO FUTURE WHEN YOU HAVE LOST YOUR TRADITIONS.’ You very good man. Christmas very, very important tradition. Therefore, we Koreans also help.”
Below Seung Huen Lee’s head appeared Squanto, who held his Indian headdress on with one hand as he peered around the doorjamb. “Squanto also help Jesus,” he grunted.
“It’s settled then,” Paul shouted. “We’ll all help. Now let’s save Christmas!”
They worked non-stop. The cuckoo clock whistled as it whirred its tiny hour and minute hands and everyone worked at breakneck speed. It looked like they weren’t going to make it. There were so many things to do.
The original Twelve Disciples of Jesus (His roadies, publicists, and sometimes band members) busied themselves making wooden toys based on Jesus’ detailed schematics. Tarzan, Seung Huen Lee, and Squanto the Indian worked on the list of naughty boys and girls, with the help of their various ape, Korean, and Indian followers.
It was jolly old Saint Nicholas who was the most help. He seemed to have Christmas in his blood -- he was so skillful at wrapping presents. He even let Jesus borrow his sleigh and eight tiny reindeer so the trip around the world would go that much quicker.
Finally, just one hour before Christmas, at exactly 2300 hours, Jesus gathered all His disciples and saints. “I have ominous news,” He said. “My Father, the Lord our God, has informed Me that one of you will betray Me within the passing of one year. I cannot say who it is among you, but it is certain fate. Before the passing of one year, I will die on the cross.”
They did not take the news well. Tarzan was particularly upset. He cried, “But Tarzan love Jesus!”
“I know, Tarzan. I love you, too,” Jesus said. “I love all of you more than you can know. You are all the light of the world to me.”
Poor little J.C. Junior overheard this, and so came running to grab his papa’s leg. “Daddy,” he whimpered. “Don’t go.”
Saint Nicholas soothed Tarzan by giving him a back rub as Seung Huen Lee lit three sticks of incense and stuck them into a fresh orange -- a ritual first taught to him by Jesus after a dangerous adventure in the Far East during which Jesus had fought the Japanese and unified the warring tribes of Korea. Seung Huen Lee’s father had been killed in battle, and so Jesus had taught Koreans the ritual of lighting sticks of incense and placing the incense in fresh oranges as a way to commemorate the passing of a loved one, but Seung Huen Lee was only ten years old at the time and became so enchanted with the ceremony that he now carried oranges and incense sticks with him everywhere and would light the incense at sometimes inappropriate moments.
Squanto the Indian sniffed and said, “But Jesus had many adventures in both Europe and Asia, as well as visiting Squanto’s American Indian family. Jesus cannot go.”
A single wet tear dripped from Squanto’s eye, following the worn path on his leathery red face. Squanto remembered how Jesus had saved his life during that horrible buffalo stampede, and how Jesus had given him the Book of Mormon, inscribed on the golden Nephi Plates in angelic script, instructing him to bury them and inform no one of their existence. Squanto did not understand the mysterious ways of Jesus and God the Father, but he understood that one day hundreds of years in the future a prophet would find the gold tablets, and that for some strange reason that would be for the best.
Saint Nicholas finally spoke up, roughly clearing his throat. “But what will become of Christmas, Jesus? Who will deliver the presents after You are gone?”
“You will,” Jesus replied.
“Me? But -- but -- but I can’t! The true meaning of Christmas will be lost if Christ is taken out of the picture. Children in public school should celebrate Your miraculous birth, not presents from this old man. Besides, I’m not qualified!”
“Saint Nicholas,” Jesus pleaded. “We all must fulfill our special duty as decreed by My Father the Lord God. Peter will be the first Pope, to carry on the true religion, Orthodox Catholicism. Squanto must return to America so that he may help God’s chosen people learn farming. And you, My friend, shall be the Patron Saint of Christmas, Vicar of Christ on this holiest of nights, and children all around the world will know you as...Santa Claus.”
“Santa Claus...” Saint Nicholas’ lower lip trembled as Jesus placed His hands on his shoulders and blessed him.
“It isn’t going to be easy, you know. We have lots of work to do yet before we climb into that sleigh of yours and deliver the presents. First you need to learn how to shrink yourself down and slide through chimneys, and then you have to learn all the ways children try to trick you and hide where they can see you leaving presents...”
Paul loudly interrupted, “Aw, can it J.C. It’s Christmas Eve, so let’s celebrate! We can have at least one last supper before You go, can’t we?”
Everyone cheered with great enthusiasm. They cleared the worktables of toys and wrapping paper, packed the presents into huge bushel baskets and sacks, packed the bushel baskets and sacks onto Santa’s sleigh, and then pulled the worktables together to form one long table, over which they flung a billowy white tablecloth.
Then everyone sat on one side of the table as Squanto and Tarzan covered every inch of it with delightful Native American and tropical jungle foods. Squanto brought roasted turkey, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. Tarzan brought bananas, banana cream pie, and banana pudding.
Then the gathered saints and disciples beamed as Judas carved the roast beast. They passed plates around the table until each person had a slice of meat and a large scoop of mashed potatoes. Jesus poured extra gravy on His.
“This is what Christmas is all about,” Paul giggled with glee. According to tradition they all said what they were most thankful for, although the answer was invariably Jesus. Then they all held hands and lowered their heads in prayer.
“Our Father,” Jesus began. Then He gave J.C. Junior a sly wink before adding, “And Grandfather. Lord God, please make us thankful for the food we are about to receive. May this tradition carry on throughout the millennia, and if it is too confusing, may it be split into two separate holidays which will both last throughout the millennia.”
Jesus and friends dug in. Then, as He was sometimes known to do, Jesus dug in for a second helping. Some say Jesus ate out of loneliness since His lovely wife Marie left, but I think He just loved good food. They enjoyed themselves so much that they forgot all about the time, and they were so boisterous that they couldn’t hear the call of the cuckoo.
It was 0100 hours when Paul heard the cuckoo’s second--more desperate--call. He gasped, “Oh, no! Look at the time, Jesus. You’d better hurry now or Christmas really will be ruined.”
Thank God Marie had always sewn extra sets of all Jesus’ favorite clothes, because they had no time for Santa Claus to decide what he should wear. Jesus had put on quite a bit of weight in those past few years, what with His penchant for soul food and Southern cooking in general. In fact, Jesus’ favorite red jumpsuit was a perfect fit for Santa Claus! They looked like twins, except of course that Santa’s beard was white whereas Jesus’ was light brown.
And so, a little over one hour past the usual time, December 25th, in the year of our Lord 26 AD, Jesus and Santa Claus climbed onto the sleigh wearing matching red jumpsuits for what would be the last true Christmas. It was, however, the very best Christmas ever.
The man in the television says government should ban poor people from using food stamps for candy and soda pop, same as how can't use for tabacco or alcohol. Food stamps linked to obesity and government has duty to keep people healthy? This misinformation may fool the so-called skeptics, aka brainwash victim zombies, but I don't buy it. I wouldn't even buy it with food stamps!
For one thing, and you may have to think here -- it might require you to have brains -- so atheist may find difficult. Where was I? For one thing, government bans purchase of alcohol with food stamps. That means you can't use food stamps to purchase wine. That means poor people will never be healthy, because wine is the key to good health. If wine were so unhealthy, why would Jesus have turned water into wine? Well, why would he?! At the Last Supper, Christ said wine is His blood. What does the government have against drinking the Blood of Christ? I'll tell you what the problem is. The food stamp welfare program is designed to render the population lazy and unhealthy (hand-in-hand with fluoridation), and to prevent partaking of sacraments. I'd go into gay marriage, because the issues are related, but you'd have to be brain damaged to not see this. It is of vital importance that you realize the true motive of the NWO is to defile all sacraments, and that starts with the Blood of Christ.
Food stamps are a form of government-issued currency. This is taxation without representation, an unconstitutional conduit for CIA Black Budget Projects -- seven computers below the Pentagon operated by Zionist Illuminati brain controllers.
Do you realize that just anyone can walk into the local grocery store right now and purchase Newman's Own Salad Dressing with food stamps??? Newman's Own Private Army is more like it! He's training them at a camp in Bolivia, down there in Central or South America, in conspiracy with the Communist Mexican Government. Our tax dollars -- American tax dollars -- lend immoral tacit support to this madman's nefarious plots against God's free people. Do you realize Paul Newman owns a racing team? Who in his right mind would strap himself into a racing car? This is clearly front for purchase of volatile rocket fuel. He ships the fuel down to Bolivia where it is used in manufacture of high explosive.
Take a look here. Look at this and think, people!
Sundance: What's your idea this time?
Butch: Bolivia.
- What's Bolivia?
- Bolivia. That's a country, stupid! In Central or South America, one or the other.
- Why don't we just go to Mexico instead?
- 'Cause all they got in Mexico is sweat and there's too much of that here. Look, if we'd been in business during the California Gold Rush, where would we have gone? California - right?
- Right.
- So when I say Bolivia, you just think California. You wouldn't believe what they're finding in the ground down there. They're just fallin' into it. Silver mines, gold mines, tin mines, payrolls so heavy we'd strain ourselves stealin' 'em.
(chuckling) You just keep thinkin', Butch. That's what you're good at.
- Boy, I got vision, and the rest of the world wears bifocals.
Paul Newman sure loves Bolivia, doesn't he? Funny he so hates America. He is a dangerous man. Even more dangerous than Sidney Sheldon.
More troubling is canola oil in Newman's Own salad dressing. Canola oil was first pumped from a well in Canola, Mexico, 1915. The Communist Mexican government imported it to undermine corn and peanut oil industries, backbones of the American economy. I won't get into soybean oil. The Jiffy Peanut Butter I fed my ex-wife's son Kevin contained partially-hydrogenated soybean oil. They pump the peanut oil out and replace it with soybean oil. George Washington Carver is rolling in his grave!
We have here a conspiracy of extraordinary magnitude, running from grocery store aisles to highest levels of government, going back to 1915 and involving Butch Cassidy. Remember what I told you people about spook fascination with cowboys and western memorabilia. This is only the latest example. I have a metal briefcase full of documented evidence and if the NWO doesn't have me killed, or drive me crazy with their damned microwave mind control surveillance, I'll blow the lid off!
My publisher, Jesus Loves Books, has sent me this cover proof for my approval. In my humble opinion it is fantastic. This is the book that will assure my place in literary history. Korean Spicy is the true story of my 1976 adventures in Korea where I met my lovely Suu Ni (who was 14-years old at the time) and became involved in an International Conspiracy involving the CIA, North Korean Intelligence, and the gays. Readers may recall my short story "Escape from the She-Devil of San Francisco" which was an excerpt from chapter one. The Illuminati has tried to keep me silent for years, but I'm blowing the lid off. This book is going to win the Noble Prize.
Investigation of ISM Virus going well. Have found damning evidence in Playboy Magazine (big surprise there) and Boy's Life. So-called gentlemen's magazines are the source for evidence of the Anti-Male, Anti-American Conspiracy (AMAAC). Have placed new file cabinet on layaway at K-Mart.
Meanwhile, Cecilia is grounded from the television. I caught her watching Laverne & Shirley, the most heinous and despicable NWO propaganda since I Dream of Jeannie (that impostor Sidney Sheldon was involved at the highest levels, having written such episodes as "My Double-Crossing Master" and "The Greatest Con Artist In the World").
I don't know if you skeptics realize this -- it's so obvious no brainwash victim would -- so I'll just lay it out for you.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
Sclemeel, schlemazel, hasenfeffer incorporated.
We're gonna do it!
Give us any chance, we'll take it.
Give us any rule, we'll break it.
We're gonna make our dreams come true.
Doin' it our way.
Nothin's gonna turn us back now,
Straight ahead and on the track now.
We're gonna make our dreams come true,
Doin' it our way.
There is nothing we won't try,
Never heard the word impossible.
This time there's no stopping us.
We're gonna do it.
On your mark, get set, and go now,
Got a dream and we just know now,
We're gonna make our dream come true.
And we'll do it our way, yes our way.
Make all our dreams come true,
And do it our way, yes our way,
Make all our dreams come true
For me and you.
There it is in black-and-white: the Ziono-Feminist call to arms. That's no Report from Iron Mountain, mind you. The devils were so bold as to air it at the start of each episode. Even today it chills me to the bone....Who are these sclemeels and schlemazel's? I'll tell you who if your damned skeptic brain can handle it: Lenny and Squiggy, straw men for NWO slander of the male race. My ex-wife constantly referred to me as "Squiggy" and no doubt countless other good Christian men suffered same indignity.
Laverne & Shirley is propaganda for young women to live alone, hate men, and subvert the American patriarchy. That vile program aired incessently during my mental collapse of 1974-1976. It was shortly after the horrid "Laverne & Shirley with the Fonz" broadcast that I fled to Korea and met my lovely Suu Ni, or I might have really lost it. (Thank God I held my half-nelson on sanity.) Then they released a cartoon version of the series in 1982, and now I catch Cecilia watching reruns on cable and it stirred up such emotion I had to spend the whole night drinking holy water, reciting scripture.
There was a brief period of comfort in the 1980s, until Murphy Brown came along. Unless there's a Constitutional Ammendment that allows Bush to stay in office, I fear the only hope for this country will be a Dan Quayle ticket in 2008. Those other politicians are all cowards!
As I've stated before, many times, that she-devil my ex-wife pressured me into allowing Kevin to attend public school, and look what it did to him. I wish I had been there for him between the ages of 10 and 27, because the NWO did a number on him bigtime.
Kevin came back from that hellstorm in the Kuwaiti desert with a head full of nonsense and an insatiable drinking habit. He joined the Marine Corps with the best of intentions -- he wanted to be like his father. What he didn't know was the NWO tested secret vaccines on him -- vaccines that turn the recipient into an alcoholic deadbeat. It's a damn shame what the Illuminati does to our children.
Well, a concerned reader -- I assume he's a reader because he has a deep understanding of Nazism and the monkey conspiracy -- relayed a disturbing message to me on this website's comment board forum. He quoted the scripture Genesis 22:2 (no need to quote here as I'm sure you are all aware of the spiritual significance and content of that scripture), which leads me to believe divine presence guided said reader's reasoning comprehension, although he is clearly a disturbed individual with psychiatric problems. This is very complicated, very difficult to explain to those who lack strong grounding in faith. My friend Sidney Sheldon even had a hard time comprehending this.
It's all clear to me. One must understand that mind control waves come in wavelength patterns, that there are patterns in Playboy Magazine, and that God's True Patriot can comprehend those patterns. That's so obvious even a mule skinner could understand. But what if I told you that those patterns, acting on your brain as you flip through your "gentleman's" magazine, behave exactly as direct electromagnetic microwave brain control waves???
Our satanic mind-controllors are clever. Dangerously clever. They could hide a wavelength hypnosis pattern in the bumps on the highway, and in the minute deviations of what you or I (normal people) assume is just a defective sewing machine; but that sewing machine (Suu Ni bought the damnable contraption at an Episcopalian church sale of all places) is really a secret message transmission device. The patterns are everywhere -- as common as the flu virus.
That is why Kevin behaves so strangely. That is the virus. The very same virus which infects our national airwaves, exposing millions to depraved disease-ridden thought implants. Communism, homosexualism, zionism, feminism, secular humanism, multi-culturalism...in a word terror-ism. The Gulf War veterans were injected with an (we were led to believe) dead ISM virus, an embodiment of the very unholy thought virii that have been infecting our culture since the invention of the television.
Maybe not all of them were so afflicted as my ex-wife's son, but the virus is nonetheless present in their blood and I intend to prove it. I have sent letters to Art Bell, Jeff Rense, U.S. Senate candidate Robert Lorge, and the American Red Cross. I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and there will come a reckoning.
Kevin has pulled one of his "pranks" again. This time he replaced my holy water with vodka, and you can imagine how embarassing it was when that vile liquid burned my throat and I spit a cloud of alcohol-mist in the face of my good friend Sidney Sheldon. Kevin, seeing this, said in a deadpan sarcastic fashion, "What's the matter, Dad, have you turned into a vampire?"
HA HA very funny. I showed him, though. I had some business in Edgerton anyhow, so I took the vodka to Saint Joseph Catholic Church and had the priest there bless it. I returned home at 1800 hours in possession of the world's first 100 proof holy water, which I consumed in full presence of Kevin with some sardines and cream cheese, a dish my mother often prepared for herself and others in the convalescent home, with my friend Sidney Sheldon. The whole while I taunted Kevin, saying, "This holy water sure does pack a kick!" and then Sidney said, "They don't make holy water like they used to!"
This is what medical experts call "reverse psychology." You see, by pretending to enjoy vodka I am discouraging Kevin from ever pulling that stunt again. I tried to explain that to Sunny, but she would hear none of it. She started berating me the moment she came home and found us in that drunken stupor, physically beating me in quick succession. That Korean tongue of hers has never been so furious, nor that tempest of a woman so violent.
Now I admit it was foolish of me, but at the time I was desperate and thought she would forgive me if she only believed the Illuminati had tricked me into doing it. She didn't believe that, though my friend Sidney Sheldon (I feel like I'm repeating myself here, but it is important you realize this was not the famous Sidney Sheldon who instructed Skull & Bones members at Yale and plants hidden messages in Hollywood screenplays -- I'm talking about my friend who has had his work stolen by that heinous fraud for decades)....Now where was I? My friend thought I was really being honest when I said that about the Illuminati, and went into a panic.
Sidney bolted out of his chair, knocking the kitchen table over in the process. His movements were drunkenly clumsy, although he had only consumed half the vodka I had. (Not half the bottle, I mean one-quarter of the bottle -- roughly half as much as I had drunk.)
Well, one thing led to another and we ended up on the floor in a tangled mess of limbs and clothing, Suu Ni beating me with her fists, and Sidney Sheldon crying and wailing about mind control. Kevin laughing like a fool. (I suspect the vodka in my holy water was but a small portion of a larger amount, which Kevin himself drank, but I lack hard evidence).
Then Park Choy came home from work, dropping her purse and screaming in horror at the sight of us.
Received first "review" of God's True Patriot weblog, if you can call it that. Will link to it here, but I warn you there is profanity on that website. It is not suitable for children. The smut-peddler slash critic had this to say on my personal messageboard:
I have not reviewed your site, because based on your request I get the impression that you did not understand what I meant when I said that I did not review content. I review site design exclusively. Therefore, your request that I review your writing will not be honored. There is an explanation on the site if you are interested. Check the archive link and look for "God's True Patriot" to see it if it isn't on the main page.
F***in' Ugly
No design??? This poor sap can't see the clouds! Now, I do admit my "design" skills are limited. I'm just not very good at woman's work. My girl Cecilia recently created her own online diary and even she is better at making things prettier than I am. Cecilia is a talented girl, and I think there's a good chance she may become an even more famous author than I am.
It's just a real shame, a travesty, that the foul hordes of Satan lack good taste in addition to lacking basic moral values. It's all laid out clearly in Deuteronomy 22:5:
The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are an abomination unto the Lord thy God!
To understand the scriptures properly, one must have a high degree of historical knowledge, which I have. One must know that in ancient times both men and women wore long flowing robes. The key difference between the two was that women's robes were prettier. Therefore, pretty things pertaineth unto women, which is why my website is not pretty.
I explained this to my good friend Sidney Sheldon and things became heated. He said that men should not wear kimonos, and women should not wear pants. He's a good Christian patriot, but sometimes I think my friend has a screw loose. The Lord has no problem with women wearing pants, so long as they don't wear them in the household. The key to understanding this scripture is that it refers to ornamental display which is intended to indicate gender role.
In this way, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy is extremely sinful and men's hotpants are more sinful than kimonos. I was wearing a kimono at the time, and so I can understand the man's confusion, but this smut-peddler critic has no such excuse. He had no way of knowing that I even own a kimono!
