They Don't Call It Good Friday For Nothing

Or as I like to call it, The Day They Killed Jesus. But not before they whipped him to within an inch of his life, slapped a crown of thorns on his head, and made him march uphill carrying a giant wooden plank. Good times, man. Good times.

Sorry if you find that offensive. But frankly, if you worship a virginal hippie-turned-zombie savior, you deserve to be offended. Same goes for you Mohammed freaks, old-school Yahweh fanatics, Satan worshippers, Buddha followers, Confucius lovers and everything in-between. You're all useless, and you're bringing down my quality of life. Get real, scumbags.