Diaper Christ Wore On The Cross Sold On eBay

 Diaper Then

The Holy Diaper Then

Just in time for Easter, the diaper Christ wore while nailed to the cross on Golgotha was sold today on eBay for an undisclosed sum of money. The man who bought the soiled, bloody diaper, Richard Glas’unful, had this to say about his purchase: “I wanted to possess this macabre and disturbing artifact connected to Christ’s last agonizing hours on Earth for two reasons.

 Diaper Now

The Holy Diaper Now

One, I’m a card-carrying sadistic sociopath, raised to love Our Lord And Savior, Jesus Christ, and owning his bloody, crap-stained diaper really gets me off. Two, I want to hang the diaper in my front window every Easter season to illustrate to all who see it the true meaning of Easter. Easter’s true meaning has nothing to do with bunnies, candies, hams, or annoying little brats running about collecting stinky-ass eggs. No, the REAL meaning of Easter, its TRUE meaning, is that Jesus Christ was crucified in a diaper, a diaper, mind you, in which he shat not only feces, but blood, for us, so that we could be forgiven, by God, for the sin of apple-eating committed by Adam and that devious woman, Eve, thousands of years before any of us were even born. THAT is the true meaning of Easter, and it is found in the holy diaper of Christ which I bought today. Amen, and Hallelujah! Praise be His holy, shit-stained, diaper!”

Stories For Children With Robert The Reviewer

Robert the Reviewer’s first post for TACP was a huge success. Fans of the site from as far away as the fourth moon of the planet Yavin have been writing accolade-filled e-mails about how much they enjoyed reading Robert’s unique, tenderly worded review of “12 Years A Slave.” In order to quench our readers’ thirst for more of Robert’s words, we are proud to announce that, in addition to his media review column, he will have a second column featuring stories for children ages 3 and up which he promises to be both entertaining and educational for all.  So, without any more delay, we give you, Robert the Reviewer.

Robert The Reviewer

Robert The Reviewer

How ye doin’ me laddies ‘n lassies? Dis ‘ere ’tis Robert, da Reviewer ‘n da best damn teller ov yarns ye’ve e’re ‘eard.  I know none ov ye are like me own faggy, girly man ov a son. So’s da tale ’em about ta tell ye won’ scare ye none, though it be fill’d wit blood, horror, ‘n da livin’ dead, ken. It ain’t as ‘orrible a story, though, as da time me faggy son almost got hiself ea’n by a rabid Haggis on da moors of Edinburgh whilst we t’was huntin’ da fraggin’ gay beastie wit s’ords ‘n clubs ken. Dat’ll be a tale I tell’z ye anither time, wee ones. Fer now I want ta tell ye ov a Bible story ‘day ne’ tell ye ’bout in church: da story ov Matthew 27:52-53. ‘Tis a tale dat begins wit dat lordy-lad, Jez’is returnin’ from da dead. He did dat af’er bein’ dead fer 3 days, wee ones, as ye may ov been told. But what ye ain’t n’er been told is dis: Jez’is weren’t da only one ta rise from da tomb dat day. Just as Jez’is’ eyes opened in ‘is tomb, da grave stones ov dozens ‘o other saints ‘n prophets braked open, ‘n da zombie saints inside ’em went walkin’ in’ta Jerusalem ta spread da word dat the lordy-lad ‘ad come back from beyond da grave. Only, Jez’is, ‘e ‘ad nay a clue dat dis was ta happin’. So’s ‘e decided ta ignore da situation when ‘e realized ‘e wasn’t da only reanimated bein’ walkin’ ’bout dat ‘day. ‘E did nay wan’ ta ‘av ‘es moment stolen by sharin’ it wit more zombies. ‘E simply paid no heed ta them. No heed ’til ‘day started eatin’ da people ov Jerusalem, dat ’tis.

Resurrected Saints Eating The Living

Resurrected Saints Eating The Living

The Saint zombies were expectin’ ta get sent back ta Heaven or ta der graves quickly, at least, by Jez’is when ‘day decided ta come back ta life ta show their support ov da lordy-lad. ‘Day weren’t planin’ on dat bastard, Jez’is, just ignorin’ ’em ‘n leavin’ ’em on Earth, alone, ta fend fer themselves. ‘Day got real ‘ungry real quick-like after a few days, ‘n ‘day started eatin’ da people ‘day come back ta life ta rejoice wit just a wee bit before.  Dis, of course, wasn’t what da lordy-lad wanted ta be happin’. It was stealin’ ‘is thunder ‘n ‘e weren’t havin’ it. So’s ‘e got hiself a big ‘ole fish bone, ‘n ‘e went out ‘n whacked da ‘eads off all them zombie saints in just a wee few hours.

Jesus With Zombie Killing Fish Bone

Jesus With Zombie Killing Fish Bone

Den ‘e went back ta bein’ a big shot solo zombie again. ‘E believed ‘e had wiped the incident out completely from da minds of men,’til Matthew’s Gospel came out, at least. Oh me, laddies ‘n lassies! Ye ain’t seen or heard angry unless ye seen da lordy-lad da fine day ‘e read da Gospel of Matthew. WOW! ‘E ain’t said a word ta ‘ole Matthew in da almost 2000 years since, me wee ones. ‘N I believe ‘e would’ve sent dat poor bugger, Matthew, right ta ‘ell if it weren’t for da fact every priest ‘n preacher ‘as ignored dat section of Matthew’s Gospel da way da lordy-lad ignored da zombie saints all doze years back. Hardly ’tis it e’er mentioned ken. Now ye all know Jez’is is a rat bastard ‘n a’ ego maniac. So’s ye all need ta stop givin’ a shite about ’em, ‘n just live yer lives as best ye all kin. Da end.

I hope ye all liked me story. I’ve got many a’more ‘en. I’d tell ye anither now, but I’ve got ta gits home ta beat me faggy, sissy-boy son fer bein’ such a damn fag ‘n a girly boy. Da damn queer bastard! ‘N after I beats ’em, I gots ta beats me wife fer havin’ dat faggy, sissy-man pansy in da first place. See ye all soon. Bye!

Lazarus, The World’s First Zombie, Talks

Hi, y’all. Lazarus here. You know, the guy Jesus brought back from the dead and then quickly abandoned, that Lazarus. I’m here cause I want to tell my story, a story I’ve been waiting to tell for over 2000 years.  It hasn’t been easy people. Really, it hasn’t. One minute there I was, deader than shit, then, BAM! I wake up smelling like the bowels of Hell itself from decay, and Jesus is standing there smiling with a big-ass crowd behind him. “Jesus,” I said, “is that you?” And he answers, “Of course, chowder head. Who else could’ve brought you back to life? Aren’t you happy I did this for you?”  “Hell, no!” I answered. “I smell like rot! I’ve been dead for days, you idiot! What the Hell were you thinking? I was in Heaven. Happy. Having a beer with some babe I just KNOW was really into me. And you drag my ass back down here. For what? To show off to the crowd that you’re god? You may be a god, Jesus, but you are a childish, brat of a god if you ask me. This SUCKS! Put me the way I was you ninny, or I’m telling your Pop you need a spanking when I go back to Heaven!” Well, needless to say, that wasn’t exactly the brightest thing to say at the moment, cause Jesus did not return me to Heaven, he just flipped me off and left with his big-ass audience right behind him. I haven’t heard from him since.

Jesus! Don't Just Leave Me Here Like This, Shouts Lazarus

Jesus! Don’t Just Leave Me Here Like This, Shouts Lazarus

So, there I was, reanimated, smelling of decay, and wrapped in bandages, all alone in front of my own grave. I knew that no one in their right mind would believe me if I said I’d just been brought back from the dead by Jesus, so I pretended to be a leper and hobbled on over to the nearest leper colony called, “Grounded Parts, Etc”, and lived there, as a tailor specializing in stitching fallen body parts back on to folks seamlessly, for about two centuries. I had already been dead, so I didn’t have to fear becoming infected with leprosy or dying. In time, the stench of the grave left me, and my looks returned to normal. I greatly desired to tell my story, especially as I saw a whole religion starting to develop around Jesus, who people were saying was this all-loving awesome dude. Fuck that. I knew for a fact he wasn’t that awesome at all of a dude. He fucked me, his pal, big time. I wouldn’t trust that bastard under any circumstance, let alone with the salvation of my soul. He didn’t save mine, he fucked it over and left me here on Earth with no way back to Heaven. But I was still in a powerless position, because I knew no one would believe my story. I left the leper colony, and moved to Rome with the money I’d saved up over the centuries. I bought some land and a few slaves (Yes, slaves. It was legal then, and I was nice to them. Nicer than Jesus was to me).  Even after Rome fell, I was able to keep my land and I grew very, very rich over the years.

I Wonder Where Jesus Is Off To?

I Wonder Where Jesus Is Off To?

I’ve lived through the rise and fall of Empires. I’ve seen man go from riding horses to flying in airplanes, and I’ve witnessed the rise and now decline of religions built on the falsehood that Jesus was a savior of some sort, that he was tortured and killed for our sins, and that he resurrected himself from the dead after lying in a grave for three days. This is all a lie. I know. I was there. Left, by Jesus, to bear witness to it all. Jesus got fed up with people here on Earth after Judas attempted to betray him. He saw that Judas was crucified for what he did, and then returned to Heaven without ever saying goodbye to anyone, even his apostles. It was Paul, St. Paul to many, who created Christianity, not Jesus. He was the L. Ron Hubbard of his day and created a religion just because he knew he could do it. Only now do I feel there may be some people who’ll believe my story and see the folly of believing in wild extraordinary stories about saviors and all-loving beings without evidence. If something sounds wildly fantastic and impossible, it more than likely is. I don’t get why this is so hard a concept to grasp. But, I’ve said my piece, and I’m off now to tend to my property in Europe. I’m not going to leave this planet anytime soon. Jesus made sure of that. Remember that, and me, Lazarus, the next time you think fondly of Jesus. That stinking rat bastard.