A couple of weeks ago, while flipping through the sunday News of the World, some fine be-overalled fellow saw Jesus in his tortilla. This is not unlike the woman who found a Jesus-shaped Cool Ranch Dorito, or the gentleman who saw Jesus on his toast (don't worry -- that raisin on Jesus' cheek wasn't cancerous), or the lady who's convinced that this one Cheeto she has on display in her curio cabinet looks just like the Pieta. You think your life is hard, think about the pain and suffering that woman went through when she had to scrapbook that friggin memory -- the Passion of the Barbara, am I right? It's a good thing nobody's ever seen Jesus in a Ruffle, because nobody can eat just one, and you wouldn't want to go and shove one of God's signs into your wafer hole, even if rrrrrrrredeemers have rrrrrrrridges.
So, thanks to all of these surefire and scrumptious signs of the existence of God, I've changed my mind -- I think Jesus IS coming back. But I think, when he does, it's because he'll have run out of guacamole.
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