Be grateful on Good Friday


I went to the gymnasty this morning, and it was packed with sinners.

We drove around the parking lot two times trying to find a place for the beloved Subaru.

Finally, we managed to squeeze in at the back.

The classes were overflowing with tiny perfect Lulus while ‘roid boys hogged the weight machines.

Just another Good Friday.

After breakfast, we’re going to vote in the advanced poll.

Other sinners, no doubt, will be visiting the bar where my son Stefan works.

What will they be talking about? The election? The crucifixion? Did Jesus have to die?

What’s the deal with Judas?

Nope, they’ll probably be talking about hockey.

Or why on Earth Day, we’re paying $1.30 for gas for no plausible reason.

Whatever they’ll be doing, whether it’s having the kids over for honey glazed ham or going down on bended knee, people will be living their lives.

As they always do.

It’s looking like a glorious Good Friday — finally some warm weather for the Nation’s Capital — so Scott will be tuning up the bike and the dogs will be rolling around in mud. A bit later we’ll have friends over.

Then I’ll be trolling to see if I can find The Ten Commandments on the tube.

Love the Ten Commandments. I watch it every year.  I learn something new every time.

Did the Red Sea really part when Moses raised his staff. Or was there a tsunami?

We may never know.

Here’s a joke.

Moses is walking through the desert looking for a sheep.

Please, Moses was a prophet not a pervert!

He comes across the burning bush that would not consume itself.

He hears a voice.

“Moses, take off the shoes from off of your feet,” God says in his redundant way. “For the land you are standing on is Holy Land.”

Moses takes off the shoes from his feet and approaches the burning bush.

And burns his feet.

God says: “Ah hah, third one today.”

I heard this joke from David Steinberg in the 60s.

It never gets old.

I always think of Jesus on Good Friday. It was a tough room.

Had to hurt.

I accept Jesus as my savior, but I don’t go to Church. 

Churches are for busy bodies and insurance salesmen. And stinky old ladies.

 Not Jesus.

Jesus wasn’t a big believer in organized religion in his time. And neither am I.

He would have said:

Go forth and work out. Get healthy. Have a few friends over.

Make your children a nice meal. Be grateful.

And don’t forget to vote.

Maybe for the Greens.

 

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