G20 Toronto Protest Videos
Posted by Chris Battaglia in Links, Politics on June 29, 2010
I’ll add more to this post as I upload them.
Touchdown Jesus destroyed by lightning
Posted by Chris Battaglia in Religion on June 18, 2010

Meet Touchdown Jesus: a 62 ft tall, tacky-as-fuck display of Christian idolatry in Ohio. Touchdown Jesus cost $250,000 to build and was also known as “Big Butter Jesus,” which I can only assume is a reference to Jesus’ recent Elvis-like weight gain (Michael Jackson’s death hit him pretty hard).
The existence of Touchdown Jesus is funny enough on its own. But wait, it gets better:
That’s right: Touchdown Jesus burned to the ground after being struck by lightning.
Out of all of nature’s destructive forces, lightning has always been the easiest one to point to as an act of god, simply because it’s so specific. Rather than, say, flooding an entire blasphemous city, a bolt of lightning will only hit a tree, or a street light, or a six-storey statue of Jesus letting everyone know the extra point is good. Lightning is also so sudden and powerful, it seems supernatural. To someone who thinks positively charged ions were invented by devil-worshiping evolutionists, anything so directed and instantly destructive must be an act of god.
But why? Why would god strike down such an excessive and unintentionally farcical tribute to his bastard son? Maybe he felt that a quarter-million dollars is better-spent feeding hungry children or paying for their education. Maybe he has taste. Maybe he just doesn’t like football. Whatever the reason, the message was loud and clear:

Matt had one goal at Bonnaroo (beyond the music): he wanted to get more fucked up than he had ever been before.
The giant flame of a nearby art piece flared periodically, igniting the midnight air. Its heat washed against us with the rythmn of a crashing wave. “Good call grabbing those pills for the re-up. You still have them, right?”
“I’m not tripping yet. I could talk to my mother right now.”
“I’m sure it’ll turn up by the time we leave, now let’s go. We’re going to miss Springsteen and I have some shrooms to eat.”
I took the chocolate out of its tinfoil wrapper. The cooler had no ice in it and provided little relief from the heat, so the chocolate was soft to the point of melting. It smudged my fingertips.
Greg had a rule about buying drugs at Bonnaroo.
“Better give me 10 to start this time,” Matt said.
We finished the sheet and lay in a field for two hours watching clouds do absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. The acid was definitely fake. We cursed our relative sobriety.
The dealer reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a ziploc bag containing dozens of small red pills. “$30 each,” he said.
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