Stuck on the Couch With Jesus

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My mother, once again, suggested I find Jesus. In doing so, I seriously contemplated attending services, but came to the glorious realization that I could, in fact, find Jesus on a public broadcasting station in the comfort of my own home.

I was stuck on the couch with Jesus as I toasted my bagel with a Virginia Slim, since I broke my toaster last week. (Apparently your parents weren’t kidding. Silverware does not go in the toaster, no matter how stuck your waffle is.) From this experience, I concluded that church on a cable network is actually much more gratifying. Mostly because you can get away with infinitely more on a couch, than in a pew.

For one, you could never eat a bagel in a real church. Or smoke a cigarette.

Secondly, you could not go to service in the nude, even though Adam and Eve were naked, because humans’ nakedness is obviously too shameful and embarrassing to reveal to the Creator.

Also, you could not drink the whole goblet of wine and walk back to the pew with the bottle in your hand, which I’ve been told is frowned upon, unfortunately.

Plus, bagels kind of taste better than the host. Especially with cream cheese. And I think that smearing cream cheese on the host would be considered disrespectful or something.

On television, there are commercial breaks so that you can have time to pee or refill your goblet (or both).

In church, you can’t turn down the volume when the cantor sucks.

Snuggled soundly into the arms of your own sofa, an old blue hair, wearing elastic banded polyester pants, does not look at you funny when you forget the words to the Lord’s Prayer. And since she does not exist within the confines of your home, she also cannot condemn you for not knowing all of the words to that other super long prayer where it says something like “I believe in one God…” [Cue indecipherable mumbling of the entire congregation, because they too never bothered to learn the rest of the immensely lengthy prayer] “…on the third day he rose again…” [more indecipherable mumbling] “Amen.”

And, when you’re missing an AbFab marathon on BBC, you can easily flip back an forth from reverence, to irreverence, refillable goblet in one hand, remote control in the other.

I was wondering if Jesus could refill my bottle, though?

photo Justin Boyer

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