Although long thought to be lost in antiquity, the Not So Sacred Shroud of the not particularly ordinary non-saint John Not The Apostle is now being made public for the first time (since last time)!
As you know of course (and if not you should be ashamed of yourself for such ignorance!), John Not The Apostle was the original founder or "acharya" as our Indian friends say, of the Not So Holy Roam'n Church and its not-famous nor overly Holy Saw (or was that See?), located in Roam mania (which was once located in Geocities' luxurious Athens Delphi community -- until getting its own domain name here as AllFaith.com. Alas, the loss of the Roma'n Church was apparently more than the Geocities corporate heads could bear! They sold the site to Yahoo in deepest despair. Alas again, without the active presence of the Non-Saint and his Roam'n Church even Yahoo -- that bastion (or was it bastard) of cyber trustworthiness and dependably (yeah verily I maketh a funny) -- could not save Geocities and so it finally gave up the ghost -- another sad statistic of the cyber purges of the Year of Our Lard 2009. It will be missed (surely by someone). And so it is said (well it could be said!), that as with everything else that has ever gone wrong in human history, this too was doubtless the fault of John Not-the-Apostle! Praise the Cheetos and pass the remote control there's a rerun of Bonanza on!
At first it was believed by some guy at the Ranch House Steak House in Chamblee Georgia that John Not The Apostle had been conceived of a virgin! However that was due to an honest misconception. You see, when John Not The Apostle was born some saint uttered in holy disgust that it was "inconceivable" that such an unattractive baby could ever be born of a human female! After all, the saints and sinners alike agreed, babies are supposed to be cute! What in the name of all that is holy and just had happened here! This innocent comment was misunderstood by some nabob to mean that his birth was not produced by normal conception (i.e. that it was in-conceivable).
Others, seeking to understand the nature of this unlikely abomination, insisted that he was surely the "Son of a Dog", but once again this honest speculation was later discovered to just be an insulting comment that had been taken a bit too literally, so to speak. It is now widely acknowledged by all but the most brain dead and fervent members of the long defunct Roam'n Church that the non-saint was actually conceived in and un-interestingly enough, born in, the changing room of the downtown Atlanta Sears store on Ponce De Leon Boulevard (or was that Avenue -- I'll have to check the not-so ancient scroll of Prophet Deaddude the Forgetful).
Of course what matters is not his birth, though utterly ordinary it was -- save that the babe was so God awful ugly! What is celebrated is his death. Indeed and verily, his death brought joy to many people, and not just to those who polish their teeth with bug spray either! Billions of people from all around the world were, ah well, awake on the very day his death is rumored to have happened! Of course, it hasn't happened yet, but most authorities agree that one day it will! "Oh what a glorious day that will be" as the hymn says (or was it a her).
The earliest account of his Not So Sacred Shroud stems from the days of ancient Rome. According to the feeble minded scribe Phoneous Maxipad, the Roman legions were all given the day off (with pay, not bad eh?) to celebrate the fact that the founder of the Roam'n Church -- whose name only coincidentally resembled the name of their precious little empire and that other church group of whom you may have heard tell -- was dead as the proverbial door nail -- but was he really and what the heck is a "door nail" anyway? As herstory (we must be equal in all things) records, with the legions all drunk, Rome fell -- but that's another story.
In any event, little did these ecstatic legionnaires suspect that the non-saint's earthly remains would be glued to an old shroud and secreted away to the future city of Touring Around Aimlessly (which many say the still roaming Roam'n Church will eventually reach and finally cease to roam -- well, one guy said that anyway), thus giving rise to what some other guy at a bar in Ormond Beach, Florida might have called "the most insignificant and uncared about mystery of all times" -- had he ever heard it -- but then, why would he have.
Indeed! That shroud WAS taken by night and hidden from disinterested eyes! It traveled throughout the known world for many many years (at the time of this writing we're not certain about the unknown world but we'll check on it... maybe tomorrow...). Through wars and revolutions (not to mention Coup de' Villes) the shroud was ignored and thus never messed with (save perhaps by maggots or similar beings).
Then in 1942 it served the people of Paris as a doorstep. According to tradition (most of which I'm making up as I go along), none of the people of that sleepy little Texas town who stepped on the shroud day after day -- many going to and returning from the Achmed's Liqueur Emporium (Achmed Gets You Drunk For Less! ®) -- had any idea that under their very feet was one of the most irrelevant thingymajigs of the ancient world (though it was said that some of them thought they had perchance stepped in cow doodee or some similar substance and hence rubbed their feet on the Shroud extra hard, this perhaps explaining its rich aroma). But how can we blame such Texans for their not-knowingness, living as they do in the occupied US and dreaming of the day when the South rises once again and their Confederate currency is again worth more than a mere tourist item to be sold to and then reproduced by the Chinese and sold back to them by your friendly neighborhood Walmart collective? Judge them? I shall not! Yeah rather, pity the poor oil barons like the Bushes! May they find plenty of baked beans to eat! Surely they could not have known -- and many have publicly testified to me in private that not only did they not know -- yeah, that in point of fact they could not have even cared less had they known, and, indeed, it was told to me by not a few of these good Texans that if I didn't get out of their yards and stop trying to interview them, they would call someone named "Bubba" whom they felt certain would "teach me a lesson" of some kind. Alas I didn't have the time (nor the corporate funding) to wait around for Bubba and so I never learned my lessons -- difficult is the life of an historian!
Finally, in the year of our Lard 2010 the shroud finally surfaced again and today it serves a truly noble function.
Yeah I say, verily and fore soothe, under the caring and lovingly crushing boot of a tax mad illegal immigrant dictator -- born in Kenya and naturalized as a citizen of Indonesia -- our Constitutionally ineligible president -- whose cousin only happens to be a dreaded African warlord (now be nice!) -- reality really is stranger than fiction -- the Shroud today serves as a reminder of happier, more gentile times when government leaders at least tried to looked like patriots and the Supreme Court still deemed the Constitution somewhat relevant to its rulings. But most importantly perhaps, the Not So Sacred Shroud Of John Not The Apostle today provides a momentary distraction for people in offices and homes the world over who have nothing better to do with their precious and fleeting time on Earth than to sit in front of computer screens reading this kind drivel!
So praise all that is sort of non-holy in a warped kind of a way!
And so, without further ado-do, it is my utterly nauseous pleasure to present:
The Not So Sacred Shroud Of
John Not The Apostle!