Things Jesus Hates

So, I don’t know how many of you knew this, but I’m actually pretty close friends with Jesus Christ. Or, Sussy C. as I like to call him. The other day, we were texting back and forth (he does not, by the way, use Apple products. He think’s Steve Jobs may be the Devil in hiding), and he came up with a great idea!

“Yo’ B, I gotz an idea, and this shit be HAWT DAWG!”

Jesus is very street. He and his Posse (known to you as the Apostles) actually invented laying out cardboard boxes and break dancing on them. True story.

“Jesus, can’t it wait? I have some more important people to talk to.”

“Bitch, my daddy be GOD motha fucka!”

“Yeah, but this girl has BOTH her nipples pierced!”

“…oh damn dawg, my bad. This shit can wait…”

Anyway, we finally got down to it, and he thought it’d be cool to have a little guest appearance on FiS. And who am I to say no to such a close personal friend. Jesus is a fan of Rant Therapy, and thought maybe it’d help him better deal with that whole being-pinned-to-wood thing. And here we go:

I hate the Grammy awards. Why else do you think I had it arranged so that Taylor Swift would win Album of the Year? Now let’s see you take the music industry and the Grammy awards seriously.

I hate any and all references to that “Pants On The Ground” song. It was a rip off of one I wrote years ago, called “Robes on the Ground”. Thou looketh like a fool with thy robes on the ground.

I hate people with too many key chains on their keys. Seriously, it’s one step away from the crazy old lady that collects cats.

I hate NASCAR. Dad only let it exist so that rednecks would be too distracted by taking left turns at 200 miles an hour to kill any more black people.

I hate “What Would Jesus Do” bracelets. You have no idea what I’d do. Don’t try to pretend to. “This guys being an asshole, I should punch him in the kidney. No, wait, that’s not right. WWJD.” You know what I’d do? Punch that fucker in the Dad-damn kidney!

I hate Amsterdam. You think you’re so special ’cause you have legalized pot? Blow it out your ear, my dad INVENTED pot, bitches.

I hate snuggies. Every article of clothing I owned was a fuckin’ snuggie.

I hate public restrooms. If I have to try and pee that close to someone taking a loud poop, including splashes and grunts, I’m going to have dad wipe out the human race with another flood. Can’t you wait until you get home for that shit?! Heh… that shit. I made a funny.

I hate Barbara Streisand. That’s it. I hate Barbara Streisand. Do I really have to give a reason? Really?

I hate people that call their dogs, their “children”. Stop that. Dogs are not children. Unless you squeeze a dog out of your twat or are forced to put your child to sleep for biting a neighbor, they are not the same.

I hate having to hear your phone conversation on the bus. You’re talking way too loud, and you’re saying nothing but uninteresting and annoying things. Considering what is being said, I’m pretty sure even the person you’re having the conversation with wants you to shut your stupid face.

I hate Pat Robertson. Really? The earthquakes in Haiti had to do with their pact with the devil? Really Pat? I’m sorry, but that isn’t true. You should go ahead and get your prostate checked, Dad’s got something special planned for you. I’ll give you a hint: It’s ass cancer.

I hate those Moon Bounce castles. What do you mean I’m too old to use them? If I can walk on water, I can walk in a moon bounce.

I hate fish sticks. I bought a box the other day, and on the back it said: “Ingredients: Fish”. Well that’s a little vague! Even I picked a particular KIND of fish with the whole “Loaves And The Fishes” thing.

I hate 404 errors. If I could perform one more miracle, it’d be to get this mother fucking website to load.

I hate the word “unfriend”. You know who unfriended me? Judas.

I hate snowplows. Sure, the snow is off the road. And now it’s on the sidewalk. You do know people use those right? Now I have snow in my sandals, thanks a lot. Would it be too much to ask to plow those too? I can walk on water, but not when there is three feet of frozen water.

I hate the tv show Lost. Seriously, the Bible makes more sense than this shit. THE BIBLE!

I hate tags on underwear. Either you rip them off and risk tearing a hole in the ass part, or you leave it there and have it running up the end of your crack all day tickling you like some perverted frat girl.

I hate the dollar menu at fast food restaurants. If it’s only a dollar, I don’t want to put it in my face. Either you made it so small that I could actually choke on it, or you removed the “food” part from it and are just giving me the bug parts.

I hate anti-Abortion billboards. We get it, a fetus can get hiccups. I still don’t see you putting one in your uterus! Until it’s hiccuping all up inside you, shut your fucking mouth.

I hate “Going Green”. You know what would save the planet? If less people were on it. How about you stop having kids, and go out and start killing some people. You know: to help save the planet.

I hate those stupid state quarters. North Dakota’s is total bull. You turn it around, and it’s got NOTHING on the back. At least they’re going for accurate.

I hate overdraft fees. Really, you’re going to re-arrange my transactions so that I over-draft seven times instead of once? That’s a real douche thing to do. If you pull that off one more time, I’m going to have to directly deposit my foot up your ass!

I hate people who use hand signals while on their cell phone. Listen, fucknuts, the person you’re talking to cannot see your hand motions or facial expressions. So stop doing that. Until Steve Jobs charges you 500 dollars for a phone that can transfer motions, you look like a lunatic, ok?

I hate when fast food restaurants put way too much mayo on my chicken sandwiches. Honest to shit, does the chicken taste THAT bad that you have to completely cover it up with mayo? I ordered a chicken sandwich, fucker, not mayo mouth rape.

I hate Super Bowl Sunday, I really do. I haven’t seen anything this over-hyped since… well… me!