Ever since feminism happened, I’ve been a proud member of some very well-funded and non-hilarious male bonding clubs such as ManKind, LittleBigMen, Mythopoetic Manaholics Anonymous, Great Mother and New Fathers, Roberty Bly Rulz!, Bitchez aint Shit, White Boyz Ltd., and Hooters (plus one more that I’m not allowed to talk about). While participating in a standard campfire drum circle/Native American dance-a-thon complete with drum-heads made from dried-out placenta (you have to wear gloves to hit them so as to not adulterate your tender masculinity), I heard a really amazing story from one of the camp’s dishwashers, Carlos. Without a doubt, this story changed my life for the financial better.
Apparently, a long time ago there was this guy named God and he was so pissed off at people that he decided to torture them forever if they died. But then he got some real Asshole Guilt about it the next morning. This proved to be a real shit situation for him. If he took it back, no one would take him seriously, but if he let it stand, everyone would call him a dick and hang out with his little brother Jason Voorhees (AKA Satan B. DaDevil) instead.
Then God figured a way out of his pickle. He’d have a kid, kill the kid, and make the world feel guilty for the kid’s death by letting the kid’s death be sort of a get-out-of-Hell-free card. Now people only had to go to Hell if they really wanted to, and all the virgin nerds had their own little cubby called Heaven where they could play Uno and eat Saltines for eternity!
And that wasn’t even God’s first pickle. Back when he was just a rookie, God made women and they were so hot that even his Angels couldn’t resist them. So these new girls got pregnant with Angel stuff and gave birth to a race of giants! All the giants were too big and rowdy for God so he just drowned them and began Creation: 2nd Draft.
Carlos’ stories really blew me away. I raced back to Hollywood eager to make the story about the Angle Bastard Giants. When that project became cost prohibitive, I focused my energy on the other story, the one where God’s kid gets tortured for 90 mintues. Fun!
The movie version of the story is so simple. Epilogue: this hippy named Jesus is all over the place performing miracles and inventing Christmas. His actions, particularly his recycling initiatives, piss off a group of powerful Jewish people. To be upfront with you, I don’t really know what a Jewish is, so I just made them a sort of movie stock evil, like robed and bearded Nazis.
Jesus is in this band. It’s a live music hip-hop group so they’re like thirteen strong, that’s more than D12 and The Wu. But like all bands, there’s always a weak link and in this case his name is Judas Asparagus. Judas means well, but his band money cannot keep up with his drug problem.
The Jewish want Jesus out of the picture, but they know his band will form like Voltron when threatened and steamroll their asses (lika drunk driver drivin / there’s no survivin). So instead of going full-frontal, they simply dangle some money in Judas’ path. This works wonders! Judas tells them how Jesus takes walks alone at 6:30am while the rest of the band sleeps.
A minor scuffle ensues as they arrest Jesus. It causes one soldier to lose an ear, but it’s no biggie: Jesus just glues it back on for him so he can still listen to the new record which Spin Magazine give 3½ stars, and calls a “rockin’ return to form from one of the masters”. Jesus goes quite peacefully; he’s knows he’s already created his masterpiece, and that it’s better to burn out than fade away.
Now that the Jewish have Jesus, they need to convince mainstream white people to torture and kill him. That shouldn’t be too hard because they all live in Tromaville, which is filled with Tromans who do nothing but fight and fuck each other all day long. The main Troman in charge of sanctioning murder is called Potsy Pilot.
Potsy hears their case, and is all like, “C’mon. That guy looks like he’s cool. Why should I kill him?” To this, the Jewish reply, “He’s trying to implement a democratic approach to music retail, rather than adhering to our set pricing structure. He wants to get rid of us all together and sell directly to the people! Plus, his lyrics are disrespectful towards women and casually flaunt the n-word!”
Potsy doesn’t really give a shit. In fact, he thinks Jesus sounds pretty awesome (especially live). He says no to the killing. He is also really handsome.
The Jewish don’t like that at all, so they start with the threats. Basically, if Pilot doesn’t kill Jesus, there won’t be a Night at the Museum 3: The Last Stand at World’s End Forever. This puts Pilot in a real bind because his kid fucking LOVES those NATM movies.
“Okay,” he concedes. “We’ll kill him. But first I’m going to have a Troman servant bring forth a basin of water so that I may wash my hands of this bullshit and absolve mainstream white people of killing the greatest MC who ever lived excluding Eminem.”
The Jewish are like, “Fine. Wash your little pussy hands. Like we give a shit what people a hundred years from now think.”
Before working on Jesus though, we stop briefly to watch Girly Satan kill Judas by chasing him around with a group of Aphex Twin kids. Normally this sort of thing would be a deleted scene, but fuck you, it’s awesome.
And with that, this film finally gets into some serious murdering Jesus action.
Act One: Whipping. Jesus is put on a stump and whipped for 30 minutes. To keep it from getting boring, I switch halfway from leather whips to razor whips. One of them actually gets caught in Jesus’ ribs and a Troman yanks it out like a healthy tooth. It’s crazy! One razor cuts both of Jesus’ cheeks open so he can smile super wide like that dude from Ichi the Killer. Thankfully, none of the razors cut a JesusJugular. Otherwise this would be one short-ass film about killing a guy.
After the whipping, Jesus is covered with blood-holes. His skin, the body’s largest organ, is operating at only about 50% availability. Every move he makes hurts like crazy so he has to do kind of a chicken walk. But he’s also woozy from blood-loss so it’s kind of a drunken chicken walk. The Tromans fix this by weighing him down with a giant telephone pole.
Welcome to Act Two. Super-sore Jesus must carry a 50lb telephone pole up a mile-long hill. To put that in perspective, it takes me 7 minutes to run a mile and I’m a healthy badass. If Jesus doesn’t clear the course in half an hour, he has to go back to the bottom and start all over again.
But I haven’t even explained the obstacles yet! For one thing, every one in town is watching. Venders along the way sell handfuls of salt and cups of lemon juice to throw at Jesus as he passes. And if that wasn’t enough, poor Jesus has been stripped down to his underwear. So embarrassing!
The good news for Jesus is that the Tromans have granted him one lifeline. He may ask one person to help carry the pole. The bad news is that no one in their right mind would carry someone’s freaking telephone pole, and even if they would, Jesus if far too proud to ask. In fact, his pride comes before his many falls.
Once every two minutes or so, Jesus falls in slow motion. Each fall is framed to make you think he’s finally dying, but that’s just a trick. Jesus is like Superman Prime; it’ll take more than a couple hundred falls to kill him. Really it all comes down to math. If we spend one day filming Jesus fall and get, say, 20 good falls, we have maybe 5 minutes of Jesus falling. But if we put all that in slow motion, we have, like, 20 minutes of footage, which is, like, â…“ of a movie all grabbed in one day of shooting. The beauty is that since it’s footage of a guy falling down and hurting himself, people never get tired of it! Holy Shit, that Sam Strange is a Goddamn Genius!
Eventually he makes it up that hill and we enter Act Three. The Tromans let him put the telephone pole down, which is nice, then make him lay on it so they can pin him to it with nails, which is mean. Both hands get driven through with railroad spikes, while his feet are both skewered with the same nail. When they stand the telephone pole with him attached like that, it looks impressively similar to those necklaces mobsters wear and vampires dread.
So now he’s hanging on the pole, slowly dying of hangitis. It takes quite a while, and everyone watching starts to get bored. Luckily one of the Tromans points to the horizon and says “What the hell is that!?” When everyone looks, he stabs Jesus in the canteen. This speeds stuff up immensely. Jesus dies in, like, 30 holy seconds.
The epilogue totally takes advantage of modern audiences’ love for zombie flicks. Jesus is put in the Batcave so what’s left of him can decompose. But guess what!? Big JC wakes up, and he’s totally not happy about getting killed for two hours. With hands full of holes, he walks out of frame and into the sequel that, God willing, I hope to make someday.
I don’t think I have to tell you how successful this was. Religious people got into it, and their repeat viewings were even more extreme than fans of The Titanic. Instead of getting the usual death threats in the mail, I got kill offers. I own the planet Mars thanks to this shit. Rent it today!!!