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Your Own Prosecutable Jesus

March 21, 2009
Jesus: Deadly Buzz

Jesus: Deadly Buzz

I was in Rome a few years ago with my dad and, a little weary of the tourist throng that makes the main streets of the city into All Molasses Disaster All The Time, we stopped in at what remains one of the greatest museums I’ve ever seen. The Museo Criminologico is in a police station, and I’ll probably give it its own post soon enough, but I just want you to zoom in on the bicycle on the lower right. I apologise for the rubbish photo because I can’t get my own pictures off my phone. That thing was apparently used to smuggle booze. Not, like, a man or a lady pedaling furiously to the tavola calda to bring the big cask of grappa to Mamma so it will be there by the time la famiglia has finished their secondi piatti. I mean, it was filled with actual booze, which was then drained out into the mouths of suckers who were so desperate for a dram or a drop that they would drink it from the inside of your rusty tube.

Smugglers are crazy and stupid or not so crazy or maybe stupid but not crazy and sometimes just a little of both. It’s a little sad to know that the kind of chemist who can turn cocaine into plastic is, um, turning cocaine into plastic, and the kind of chemist who can extract it on the other end is the kind of chemist whose job it is to extract cocaine from plastic and who is probably an otherwise highly desirable university candidate. It’s quite spectacular what they can make out of coke, and it doesn’t stop at filled balloons or celebutantes; when the governments don’t want to invest in science and technology, the black market will happily absorb these sort of whizzes. I’m not all that concerned with your quotidian cokefiend, not having much patience for or empathy with them, and so I’m not worried about what happens if they/you want to huff something into your brain that’s been up someone else’s socket for a sweaty plane ride and an even more liquifying, pants-shitting wait in the customs hall. But with all those brains, you’d think they’d be a little smarter about the smugglers they use.

You’re all free to listen here, but there’s one group in particular I need to address. Because really, smugglers, we need to talk. I wasn’t going to say anything, but I think it’s time. I know you like your talky and sleepy pills and your marching powder and your magic juice, and I know you turn your noses up at the rednecks who cook up meth in desert RVs in the name of the people of Wasilla and all that is holy, and that those freaks would smoke your bone marrow if they thought it would make them touch Jesus and the Bible for even a minute. I’m no fan of what you do, I just don’t like to see people humiliate themselves. Actually, I do. I really, really do. Sometimes more than anything. But let’s put that aside for a minute.

But smugglers, it’s time you knew something. It’s about dogs. And I know a thing or two about dogs, and one of those one (maybe two) things is that dogs don’t care if your statue is of Our Lord Jesus the Risen Christ holding his Sacred Heart for all of our sins on the cross and the saints and some angels , or if it’s a papier mache diorama of the Stars of Airport Security. The dog, loyal and sometimes anthropomorphised as it may be, can’t tell the difference between Our Lord and R. Kelly, even if you give it “flowing hair and a golden cape”.

No matter how many stories we hear about canine derring do, the dog doesn’t feel sad for you if you have a leg that’s all broked up, even if you broke it yourself because the doggy wants to hump that leg right after its finished sniffing the balloons you shoved up your asshole. They don’t care if you need a nice sit-down and a six pack. They are called drug-sniffing dogs for a reason. Do your clients know when you have sold them something that does not get them high as promised? Because I think that they might. If you’re trying to throw off the sniffer dogs, how about disguising your haul as a trip to the vet or make it look like you’re not going for a W-A-L-K?

What I’m trying to say is this: I don’t know if that china pattern is really going to go with the crystal, and anyway, you shouldn’t serve the dried soup at your party. Your guests will notice that, too. At worst, go with canned, but most people prefer fresh. And make sure you do those windows before they arrive.

And one other thing is this, and it’s a minor detail, but one I think you should think about. It’s this: if a friend that you know from jail, you know, the one you went to for attacking (sorry, allegedly) a man with a machete, asks you to take your family on holiday to Venezuela and on your way back, could you please bring 52lb of diamonds to supply some desperate rappers facing a severe bling drought? I would say — and this is just a funny thing I have — that maybe you should ask to see the diamonds, not just a probably credible picture of a man ‘dripping in diamonds’. If you decide just to go with your gut, however, the Jeremy Kyle Show is definitely a good place to clear your name.

Dogs aren’t totally useless in smuggling. Just don’t use the dog part of the dog.

Anyway, I just thought I’d say it. In case.

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