I Wanna Party With Jesus

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2020

Do you like it when a naked, handsome man with a beard looms over you?

I have noticed that religion can be very sensual. Former drug addicts are forced to read prayers because having a trip and a religious ecstasy are similar: the city appears to be a world of demons, crucifixes are torn from shaved necks, there are hot kisses to music (EDM or Church music, whatever). Somebody with Arca’s hairstyle puts on a long black outfit and mumbles something mysterious. Everything around goes into a kind of riot, objects are enveloped in a colored aura, an old woman is sitting in the corner.

If you are hiding so that the Lord will not find you doing shameless things, then you are safe in the shower. God will not spy on you there, he‘s not a pervert. And he certainly won’t go into the locker room, where the atmosphere teases the imagination: the iridescent sheen inherent in a strange mixture of cleanliness and dirt, an intoxicating cocktail of soap, sweat and body scents depicting either Botticelli’s Venus, or miss O’murphy in a Boucher painting, to whose pinky butt you want to attach a sonorous slap.

We must admit that cleanliness is somewhat akin to piety, so the proximity of a church and a swimming pool may be quite appropriate. Then the attendance of both will increase dramatically. Jesus himself was a master of non-standard promo, a charismatic superstar from the beginning of his career. He made twelve PR experts work for his brand and is still popular. People quote his speeches, buy his merch, and Christmas is the best festival of all time.