And the word became plastic and was displayed among us.

This is part of the series which led me to begin a blog in the first place.  If anyone actually reads this all the way through please let me know what you think.  I enjoy writing these things and sometimes get so tickled I can’t see straight.  However, I admit to having a strange sense of humor.  I’d like to know how this stuff comes across to others.  If ever I write a book this is what it will be about.  Let me know, please.


 Part I

If it’s true that looks can kill  the leper died a thousand times as he rolled through the crowd and stopped before Iconjesus.  He didn’t care.  He was already dead.

Seeking iconjesus had not been an easy decision.  Besides being illegal the leper worried his presence might be offensive to iconjesus.  That would hurt worst of all.  So, the voices in his head tossed the possibilities back and forth.

“He should go.” – “No, he shouldn’t!”

“What if he’s rejected?” – “Won’t hurt to try.”

“What will ‘they’ say?” – “What will HE say?”

“Hey fellas, I’m dying here.” his body finally interjected.

  Realizing he had nothing left to lose, except more body parts, the leper decided to seek Iconjesus.   However, he had no idea what Iconjesus looked like or where he might be found.  The only clue he had to go by was a strange saying he once read in a fortune cookie.  “If you want to find Iconjesus seek the shimmering lights that dance only in the bright light of day.” Well, the leper must have been Irish because he lucked upon the mystery of the fortune cookie the very day his quest began.  

Just over the next hilltop the leper saw the shimmering, dancing lights for himself.  Two days later  (the fastest he could crawl up the hill)  his mouth fell open at the sight of Iconjesus.  He was six feet tall and made entirely of stained glass. If he had not been gasping for air the artistic perfection of Iconjesus would have taken the leper’s breath away.  Meanwhile, the crowd admiring Iconjesus was bathed in his twirling, rainbow colored glory as the bright sunshine filtered through him.  The leper could hardly wait to reach Iconjesus.  Even as he rolled down the hill it was easy for him to see that Iconjesus was indeed the light of the world. 

Sadly, the roll was uncontrolled and when he landed in a heap before Iconjesus the leper regretted not having had a tighter grip on his sunglasses.  That’s because up close the full strength of Iconjesus’  glory proved too much for his eyes.  Keeping them averted the leper untangled himself and scrambled to his knees to wait for some kind of welcome from Iconjesus..  Anything.  He waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Luckily, right before the lepers knees gave out, and his legs fell off,  a cloud dimmed the glory of Iconjesus.  Siezing the opportunity the leper rose upon numb feet, looked iconjesus in his glass orbs (they were blue), and blurted out, “If you are willing you can make me clean!”

Immediately his legs gave out causing him to fall with a thud.   At the same time he heard the least welcomed noise he could have imagined.  Twas  the sound of glass shattering into a million shards.  The leper was horrifed.  Had he accidently pushed Iconjesus over when he fell?  Had he broken his only chance for a healing?  When he at last worked up the strength to lift his head out of the dirt what the leper saw did take away what was left of  his breath.  Apparently Iconjesus had been transfigured.  For there, perched among a heap of colored glass, the leper saw  a plastic baby laying in a faux manger stuffed with synthetic, antibacterial hay.

The leper found himself unable to speak although he still had a tongue (For the time being).  Instead, all he could do was watch as Iconjesus’ disciples  rushed to and fro preparing their lord for viewing.  Several of them were busy using a damp cloth to wipe the dust and attic insulation off of the plastic baby’s face.  Others were frantically searching for the nearest outlet so they could plug Iconjesus in.   Still others were arguing over where to stage the faux manger so that those driving by could see it without crashing.  Finally, the rest of them were using brooms and dustpans to dispose of  “yesterday’s” Iconjesus. 

Somehow, suspending disbelief, the leper found his voice.

“If you are willing, you can make me clean.” he said to the plastic head.   

“iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,”  Iconjesus replied.



Baby Iconjesus sounded exactly like a refridgerator.  Everything he said come out as huuuuuuuummmmmmmm…  More or less.  The leper didn’t speak “refridgerator” so he had no idea what Iconjesus was saying.  However, without the benefit of a mirror he also didn’t know if his ears were still attached.  He was on the verge of repeating his request when he suddenly realized that meaningful dialouge with baby Iconjesus was impossible.  And it had nothing to do with his ears.  Poor baby Iconjesus WAS trying to communicate.  However,  his lips were permenantly sealed shut with molded plastic.  Apparently this model of Iconjesus was intended to interact exclusively with other appliances.  The quest for the flesh (what was left) and bone leper had ended in failure.  So it was with thoughts of composing his last will and testament that the leper turned around to leave. 

Flash!  Boom!  Bang!  The noises had come from behind him.  Now what?  Had the disciples stupidly plugged Iconjesus into 220 volts of power instead of 110?  Once again the leper turned around to face Iconjesus.  This time he wasn’t surprised to see that Iconjesus had mutated.  The plastic baby had been replaced by a tiny porcelain figure attached to a polished piece of rare wood.  The stark-white figurine was surrounded by colored porcelain shaped like trees, rocks and assorted mammals.  The leper also noticed two beautifully inscribed gold plates that had been screwed into the wooden base.  The first one read: Iconjesus: In The Garden of Gethsemane.  The other one said:  To hear Iconjesus depress His Head.

Franky the leper was exhausted and disillusioned.  His first inclination was to simply walk away.  However, by this time his one good leg had become his only leg.  Wearily he repeated, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.”  He then depressed Iconjesus’ head as instructed.  He quickly regretted doing so.

“Why are you sleeping?  Get up and pray that you may not enter into temptation!” Iconjesus barked.

The leper was aghast.  And confused.  He wasn’t sleeping.  So, taking a risk that they would pop out,  he opened his eyes as wide as he possibly could and profusely apologized to Iconjesus.  Then he depressed the porcelain head a second time.

 “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet not my will, but your will be done.”

The leper had no idea with whom Iconjesus was conversing.  He had fathered no children outside of  marriage. Furthermore, try as he might, the leper didn’t see the “cup” Iconjesus was alluding to.  Apparently it was imaginary.  It’s easy to see, at this point,  why the leper began to think  Iconjesus wasn’t “right in the head.”  Or was one card short of a deck.  Maybe his brain was made out of porcelain too.  When the leper depressed the head a final time it was only because he now felt sorry for Iconjesus.  He should have left it at that and walked away.

 “Have you come out with swords and clubs as you would against a robber?”

The leper was terrified.  Swords?  Clubs?  These were the tools of a hitman in the first century.  Because leper colonies were notorius for breeding resentment the leper thought perhaps Iconjesus believed he might be a hired gun/sword.  A contract killer dispatched by a hateful gang of lepers.  However, this was no gangland vendetta, the leper simply wanted to be healed.  Anyway, if he was a hitman,  why would he need a sword or club?  Afterall, leporsy itself could be used as a weapon.  Reacting as quicky as a one-legged dying man can the leper dejectedly hopped away before he could be taken out by Iconjesus’ disciples/bodyguards. 

Days later, as he rotted on his death bed, the leper bitterly conceded that Iconjesus was, in his various forms,  beautiful.  However, he lacked warmth.  Sympathy.  Compassion.  Humanity.  Proximity.  Iconjesus could be touched.  Held.  Cradled.  Rubbed.  Staged.  And gawked at.  However, he could never touch back.  What warmth Iconjesus did possess was either borrowed from the sun or powered by an internal lightbulb.  Iconjesus was a fraud.

And then the leper died.  Of a broken heart.


How the Devil Defeated Jesus Despite the Resurrection. (1) The People’s Prince

     Here are some of the thoughts which have been stewing in my imagination.  It is very much a work in progress.  When something doesn’t make sense or you discover (And I’m sure there are many) errors of grammar, spelling, etc. please let me know.   This is a  peek into my brain as I labor to unveil the wiley misdeeds of our common enemy.  This is for my jr. high class at Memorial.  The battle is joined!

The identity of the lead character has not been changed for the sole purpose of defaming his character and exposing his lies.

It is a fortunate thing for the devil he doesn’t have a heart.  Or else his first glimpse of the resurrected Jesus would have inspired a massive heart attack and that would have been the end of his story.  On the other hand the resurrection should not have come as a surprise to him.  Hadn’t Jesus said he would return from the dead  three days after dying?  Even though the devil was well aware of this promise  his pride prevented him from appreciating the subtley of this not too minor clue.  Of course the devil rarely deals with reality anyway.  Instead, he prefers to dwell on  the loves and lives of his pretend world.   And in the make believe universe the devil lived in there was no way Jesus would or could live again.   No, the devil wasn’t worried about an impossibility but he was worried about something he knew all too well.  What if the disciples began to think like him?  What if the disciples realized made-up religions can make a lot of money?  (This is the main source of the devil’s personal wealth)  The devil had a hunch the disciples would try to “resurrect” Jesus themselves when they realized  how much money they could earn/bilk as the undisputed leaders of a new global religious empire.     

Now, having already made his fortune, the devil couldn’t have cared less about the money.  His wants were more noble.  He wanted revenge.  He wanted glory.  He wanted nothing to stand between him and the enforced subjugation of the human vermin (He meant to say a mutually beneficial relationship with the human race.).   And above all  the devil wanted his due.  In this case his due was to be formally recognized,  in heaven and on earth,  as being  superior to Jesus.  And he believed recent events made it clear , to friend and foe alike,  that he had outmanuevered, outfought, outwitted, outclassed and outlived the “King of kings.”.  Finally, he would be annointed  the people’s Prince.  So while he may have understood the disciples’ need to make a buck (their time with Jesus left them destitute) there was no way in  hell he was going to share the world’s stage with a “resurrected” Jesus.  And so for the first time in his life the devil found himself in the unfamiliar position of conspiring to PREVENT a lie.

     In order to stop the disciples from stealing Jesus’ body, flinging it in a hole somewhere and then boldly proclaiming (lying) to the witless masses, “He lives!”,  the devil dispatched some of his goons to secure the grave.  However, as any one knows, the problem with goons is they are often too goony to be trusted.  Consequently, even though he would have much preferred to spend the weekend sunning himself at an overpriced resort somewhere in Mexico, the devil felt compelled to personally stake out the garden tomb of Jesus.  Obviously no one would have recognized him as “the devil” because he was wearing his snake skin costume which happens to be his favorite disguise.  (It’s a well known fact the devil is the world’s foremost expert at appearing to be anything but himself.)

     Unfortunately, one of the design flaws of the snake costume is its lack of pockets. (A snake with pockets would have been a dead giveaway.)  This inconvenience meant the devil was forced to leave behind his self- prescibed doses of Ritalin which allowed his self-diagnosed ADD to rage unhindered for three days.  Suddenly though, as one thought collided with the next thought which was left a half thought chased away by a new thought the devil was jolted into a series of related thoughts by the irony of his present location.  As it turns out this was not the first time the devil’s insane thirst for world domination had brought him to a garden.

     Even now, after all these centuries, his face reddened when he remembered the indignities heaped upon him in that other garden.  And this was AFTER he had tricked the silly creatures into betraying their benefactor.  By all rights he should have been given the victor’s crown and proclaimed the People’s Prince.  Instead, he was shocked by his opponents unwillingness to abandon his human pets who were presently attired in the the most absurd outfits he’d ever seen.   Speaking of outfits, his own beloved disguise was harshly and painfully altered while he was being forced to endure a most dreadful lecture.  Finally, to add insult to injury, he was informed the human morons (their feeble attempt at fashion design proved his point.) would play a major role in his ultimate undoing.  Blah, Blah , Blah.  

     My,  how the tables had turned.  What Fates had conspired together to finish in this garden what had started in the other garden?  By sheer coincidence (?) the paradise which had been stolen from the devil in the first garden was  to be restored to him in the second garden.  He was vindicated!  (By the way this is where he got the idea to title his now abandoned autobiography, “From Garden to Garden:  How I Defeated Jesus and Became the People’s Prince!”)  Never had the poet baked such a dainty morsel of poetic justice.  It was a morsel the devil could hardly wait to shove down God’s throat.

     Alas, at the very moment the devil’s eternal rage had blended his past hurts and future dreams into a frothy concoction of current dark pleasures the ground gave way beneath him.  He had been fantasizing of how he would send the desecrated corpse of Jesus on a morbid tour of the world’s major cities and before he knew it he was covered in dust and practically blinded by a crushing headache.  He had no idea what was happening, but just then his need to know was trumped by his even greater desire to not die.  (An FYI regarding the world tour of Jesus’s corpse – The devil’s plans called for gluing the decomposing carcass of “the Savior” to an exact replica of the cross.  This would then be mounted in a life-size diorama depicting the events at Calvary.  As for the real cross, the devil considered it his personal property and had plans to use it to furnish one of the guestrooms in his condo.)

     Instantly mustering formidable skills, honed to perfection by perpetual war, the devil repeatedly coiled, lashed, and struck with “you have to see it to believe it” speed.  His every move and counter move were text-book perfect.  The truth is when the devil has fully deployed his arsenal and completely unleashed his prowess on the field of battle the total effect can be quite hypnotic.  In its own way it has a way of disarming  anyone foolish enough to be dazzled by its glory.  Sadly, as many a victim discovered much too late,  up close the view can be permenantly intoxicating.

     Be that as it may, in the garden the devil’s fangs pierced nothing more substantial than dust clouds and before long his exhausted body gave out.  Then he noticed his poor head  hurt worse than ever.  He still didn’t know what had caused the ground to shake but more worrisome to him was the realization that the unfamiliar pangs of fear were making a quick meal of his courage.  The devil was frightened.  He was coaxing his presence of mind to come out from hiding when movement near the tomb of Jesus stole his breath.  And then everything in his life became worse than ever.

     There isn’t anybody alive who likes to be played for a fool and the devil is no exception.  Yet he was beginning to see, as current events made clear, that he had just been played for an entire symphony’s worth of foolery.  He saw the open tomb.  He saw his goons, appearing more goony than ever, with mouths agape looking for all the world like they’s just seen a ghost.  Then he saw the angels and finally he saw…  In that heart breaking moment not even the devil’s vaunted mastery of the art of denial protected him from reality.  For once in his long and fabled career he suffered no delusions.

     To hear the devil tell it all these years later the reason he didn’t slither to safety was because he was just too tired.  The truth is he was too scared.  On top of what he was witnessing, his mind  burdened him with the constant refrain, “crush your head, crush your head, crush your head…”  Bizarrely he was also trying to recall if Jesus’ heels had always looked so dangerous, or was it his imagination?  Not surprisingly the visual data he was processing, the refrain he was hearing and the conflicting emotions he was experiencing were all spiced up with liberal dashes of his ever present rage.  He had come oh so close only to have the nightmare of the resurrection reduce his dream of being the People’s Prince to the airy substance of fairy tales.

    The devil quickly found himself incapacitated by the anger, despair, frustration and depression wrought by his negative self-talk.  They had constucted an emotional prison from which he doubted he would ever escape.  Poor thing!  There was nothing left to do but watch and wait.  In this dismal state of mind the last thing the devil expected was a theraputic break-through.  And yet, as luck would have it, a break-through is exactly what he received.

     Unfortunately, for the world of men, the devil doesn’t have a heart.  If he did his first glimpse of the resurrected Jesus would have inspired a massive coronary and that would have been the end of his story.  Instead his hooded eyes hungrily track his break-through as it stumbles through the garden.  Ah!  He recognizes his break-through.  He even knows her name.

Question:  Since the devil maintained control of the garden tomb politically, via his puppet goverment, and physically, via his soldier-goons, then where is the glued to a  cross carcass of Jesus?  Such a display would have instantly discredited all claims of the resurrection.  If the devil retained control of the body after the third day there is no shortage of people, then and now, who would gleefully tour his ghastly diorama depicting the events at Calvary.  In fact, the devil could have what he’s always wanted – to be the center of attention- without any effort.  All he has to do is produce the body of Jesus.  Imagine the triple force hurricane winds that would be produced by that media storm.  And the devil could be the eye of that storm simply by producing the body of Jesus.  Till then the devil needs to be told the same thing blowhards the world over are told.   Put up or shut up!