“Jesus, Jesus, where are you, you have to come back!” The archangel Michael shouted in heaven. “What is it, Michael?” “The Vatican has now really fucked up, every priest needs to have explicit permission from his bishop to hold a Tridentine Mass!” Michael shouted. “What? Alright that does it! This pope is a heretic! It’s time for me to go back and usher in the end of the world!”
A giant light appeared in the sky, as Jesus descended down to Earth in front of a church where mass was being held. He walked in, approached the priest near his altar and shouted: “What the fuck do you think this is? Why aren’t you celebrating the Mass ad orientem?!?!? You realize you’re not supposed to face the proles right? You’re supposed to face THE ALTAR! What kind of priest are you?”
The priest tried to ignore the disturbance and continued his sermon, in the vernacular language, which upset TradCat Jesus: “YOU REALIZE ALL THESE DUMBASS PROLES CAN UNDERSTAND EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE SAYING RIGHT?!? WHERE IS THE LATIN?!?!”
“Sir this is a Novus Ordo mass, please don’t disturb our-” The priest answered. “DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO!?!? I’M YOUR BOSS! I’M THE GUY WHO RUNS THIS PLACE OK? I’M LITERALLY JESUS.” TradCat Jesus shouted. “Oh in that case, I wish to apolog-” “APOLOGIZE??? How about we turn this around and you confess your sins to me? Starting with: When have you last jerked off?”
“Well Jesus, in all fairness, it was two weeks ago, when I could really not withstand the urge. I was just randomly browsing Reddit and came across this amazing EGirl dressed in black and I just knew she’d have nudes somewhere, so I browsed her user profile and began to get blue balls. The ache was really unbearable, but I entirely blame myself for causing it in the first place. But to make sure I wouldn’t have to go to church walking with my legs spread like a penguin, so that all my parishioners would realize I’ve been sinning again, I decided to give myself the pleasure of busting one out.” He admitted.
“BUSTING ONE OUT!?!?” TradCat Jesus angrily shouted. “Is that what you call COMMITTING A MORTAL SIN!?!?” He asked. “Well I know I’m not supposed to but in my defense, in the moment I was so indulged in the passion I had forgotten it technically happens to be a mortal sin.” The priest replied.
“You think that absolves you?” TradCat Jesus responded. “How about you go outside with me and we duke this out with our bare fists?” The priest obliged and followed TradCat Jesus outside, but Jesus had found something new that offended him. “What the fuck is this supposed to be!?!? IS THIS A JOKE?!?!?” Jesus shouted, as he was confronted with a hideous statue on a park bench.
“That’s a statue called homeless Jesus it-” “HOMELESS JESUS? YOU THINK I’M PROUD OF MY HOMELESSNESS?!? YOU THINK I WANT TO HAVE STATUES EVERYWHERE OF ME SLEEPING ON A PARK BENCH?!?!” Jesus angrily shouted.
“How about this: We make a new statue, of you, a true Christian. We’ll call it ‘horny priest’ and it depicts you jerking off to some Egirl slut on Reddit! How do you feel about that?” Jesus asked. “Well, I would have my reservat-” The priest stammered. “Reservations? You dare to question my judgement? Watch this, apostate! HOCUS POCUS, PILATUS PAS!” The statue of homeless Jesus began to transform, into a statue of a guy jerking off in front of his computer. The priest was shocked, but it was now clear to him he was genuinely speaking to the Messiah himself and his wavering faith was strengthened as a result.
Next, Jesus looked around and got even angrier. “YOU PEOPLE CALL THIS ARCHITECTURE!?!? THIS IS AN UGLY APARTMENT COMPLEX DESIGNED TO RESEMBLE A GIANT HANDBASKET!!! DON’T YOU PEOPLE REALIZE ME AND DAD LIKE BAROQUE?!?!? HERE, GRAB MY PHONE AND ASK DAD YOURSELF!” Jesus grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and held it next to the priest’s ear, who was reluctant to grab onto it. “GO ON, SINNER!” The priest reluctantly gave in, grabbed the phone and asked: “Um, hello, this is John, am I speaking to um-, God?”
“That’s who you’re speaking to, yes. What’s up John?” God responded. “Well I was just wondering, what’s your favorite style of architecture?” The priest asked. “Why, isn’t it obvious John? I’m all into that Rococo shit! Why do you think I didn’t let the revolutionaries burn down Versailles? Honestly, I’m into all of that late Baroque stuff, back in the good old days when the peasants still knew their place and the ladies died in childbirth after getting pregnant for the ninth time.” God told him through the phone.
“Really God, is the 18th century your favored era?” The priest asked. “Well it really depends in all fairness. If you showed me a rural Dutch mud hut from the 18th century I wouldn’t be particularly into it. But you guys destroyed all the ugly stuff from back then and preserved the good stuff owned by rich elites at the time, so yeah, it’s my favorite era! Hey, just to let you know, I like Mar-a-Lago a lot too, I’ll divinely intervene myself if anyone tries to smash it! But I gotta go, talk to ya later!” God answered.
“Well TradCat Jesus, I guess you’re right. You and your dad really want us to build more Baroque stuff and less modern architecture.” The priest answered.
“Yes, if you can bring back the sort of rampant wealth inequality and authoritarianism that allowed you to devote a vast fortune to constructing all these cathedrals and palaces, I would really appreciate it. After being born in a manger surrounded by animals and growing up without having a stone to rest my head on, I think it’s time I deserve an actual crib, especially after everything I did for you, don’t you think?” TradCat Jesus told the priest.
“I get it Tradcat Jesus, I’ll make sure to ask my bishop to build you a mansion in late Baroque style. Is there anything else I can do for you?” The priest asked. “Well, it’s time to stop all this sinful degenerate stuff on the Internet, that’s now even tempting my own priests apparently. I want you to go to the OnlyFans headquarters and get them to cough up all these E-whores credit card data to us.” TradCat Jesus told him.
The priest obliged and drove the two to the OnlyFans headquarter, where he entered armed with a gun, demanding everyone’s credit card details, as TradCat Jesus waited outside in his car that had its engine still running. The priest returned with a USB stick and the two hurried off, burned the car on the outskirts of town and proceeded to walk on foot, as the priest jammed the USB stick into his laptop.
“Alright TradCat Jesus, have a look at this, it says here the closest Egirl, Lizzy Sparx, real name Elisabeth Spencer, lives in walking distance from here. She uses they/them pronouns and has a total of four subscribers who pay her a grand total of 20 dollar a month.” The priest told Jesus. “BRING ME TO THIS HARLOT RIGHT NOW!” Tradcat Jesus answered.
The two climbed through a bedroom window and found themselves faced with a sleeping blue-haired girl with glasses, dressed only in her underwear. “Get out of bed harlot.” Jesus told her. “What’s going on here, is this a robbery? Please I don’t have anything, I swear. I’m just a student” The girl said, as she began to cry.
“Tell me your bodycount.” Jesus demanded. “Um well, like, do you mean just guys, or girls and non-binary people too? And just guys I had sex with, or also just guys I jerked off back in high school?” The girl responded. “I literally can’t find anything about lesbianism in the entire Bible, so I’ll let that stuff slide. Just the guys.” TradCat Jesus answered.
“Ok well including handjobs that means I’m at three right now.” The girl replied. “Let him who is with lower body count throw the first stone!” Jesus answered, and gave a grim look at the priest, who looked a little nervous. “I said, let him who is with lower body count throw the first stone!” TradCat Jesus said again, looking once more at the priest.
“Well, Jesus, I-” The priest stammered. “You know what, I don’t even want to know, bring me to the next Egirl.” TradCat Jesus answered. The two climbed out of the window again, as the girl began rocking back and forth in the corner of her room.
“Alright next one, make this worth my time.” The two walked further down to the most deprived area of the city, climbed through a window and repeated the procedure, faced with a silicon enhanced blonde bimbo this time.
“Well um, I’d say I’m at 28 by now. If you want to include consensual and non-consensual and the stuff in between I suppose.” She answered. “JOHN, GET YOUR STONES READY!” TradCat Jesus shouted. “What do you mean, non-consensual?” John asked. “Well, when I was in a child pageant show one of the jury members told me he would make my mother proud of me if I did something in return for him, so I did.” The girl answered. “And then he hurt me and I began to associate abuse and humiliation with pleasure, it became a kind of addictive impulse. I’d sleep with guys from college but they were too nice, I was always left dissatisfied so I signed up for a BDSM forum and met up with married elderly men there. Then once I hit my late twenties and the first wrinkles began to show up in the mirror, I became hungry for constant validation from men, fond as I was of my physical beauty.” She continued.
“Well, this got grim rather quickly.” John said. “ARE YOU SYMPATHIZING WITH THIS HARLOT?” TradCat Jesus asked. “No, I just think this is kind of tragi-” “YOU KNOW WHAT’S TRAGIC? HOW I HAVE TO WATCH AS THE HOLY MOTHER CHURCH DESCENDS INTO LIBERAL NIHILISM AND MORAL RELATIVISM! THROW THAT STONE” TradCat Jesus yelled at him.
John grabbed a stone from his pocket and looked the woman straight in her eyes, before dropping the stone from his hand onto the floor. “WHAT KIND OF SOYBOY BETA CUCK ARE YOU? I THINK YOU NEED TO GET YOUR TESTOSTERONE CHECKED!” Jesus yelled at him, angered by this defiance of his command.
“You know what, we’ll make this easy for you. I’m sure there must be a speck of virtue in your left. It’s almost morning, we’re heading out to an abortion clinic.” TradCat Jesus suggested, to which the priest happily obliged. He was going to punish people who murder unborn children and he wasn’t just going to do it on his own, he had his lord and savior riding along with him!
To make sure the priest wouldn’t get cold feet again, TradCat Jesus told him to drive all the way to the only clinic in the state that performs third trimester abortions. “Well well well, what do we have here. A woman with a massive belly, walking into an abortion clinic. You know you can just give your child up for adoption, right?” TradCat Jesus asked to a woman who was trying to walk around him into the clinic.
“Well sir, here’s the thing. I found out my unborn child has Trisomy 18. This is a terrible genetic disorder, that causes 95% of children born with the condition to die within a year. The children tend to be born with their intestines protruding from their belly. The heart is deformed and the esophagus ends in a dead end, so surgery needs to be performed to install a tube, to feed formula into the stomach directly, breastfeeding is physically impossible. The child is thought to be in constant pain and I just think to myself that I should not bring such a child into this wo-.” The woman argued.
“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, DECIDING OVER LIFE AND DEATH! MY FATHER IN HEAVEN IS THE ONE WHO GETS TO DO THAT. HE IS THE ONE WHO DECIDES WHICH 50% OF FERTILIZED EGGS NEVER MAKE IT TO TERM, NOT SOME WOKE BITCH WHO FORGOT TO USE A CONDOM, WHICH SHOULD ALSO BE ILLEGAL BY THE WAY!” TradCat Jesus yelled.
TradCat Jesus looked at John and John nervously grabbed a stone from his pocket again. “I know you won’t disappoint me this time, I’m heading out today, seeing if I can cause some car crashes or some Earthquakes. I need to strengthen some people’s faith, there’s no better way to accomplish this than to have them watch a kid’s brains splattered on their windshield after a full head-on collision!” TradCat Jesus said to John, as he walked off into the distance.
After goring some children under piles of rubble and burning car wrecks, Jesus walked into another church, where he saw a lot of brown faces, which angered him again. “What is this place, Somalia?!?” “Well actually sir, my family is from Uganda, we moved here after we had to sell our farm once the constant droughts made us go hungry.” A man responded.
“This is what you get in a secular hedonist culture that abandons traditional values. People stop having children and then the government imports people from abroad to fill the gap in the demographic pyramid!” TradCat Jesus lamented. “You realize you people had a massive drought in the 1880’s too, right?”
“I’m sure we did, but that won’t fill my kid’s stomach I’m afraid. We tried praying, but the rain just didn’t fall.” The man responded. “Well did you ever consider I was just testing your faith?”
“Wait what, you were testing my faith?” Another man next to Jesus asked. “I always had that idea, that this suffering has some greater meaning, that you wanted me to help people cope with this terrible situation inflicted upon them by the industrialized world which uses our collective atmosphere as a waste dump.” He continued.
“NO NOT YOU, IDIOT! YOU HAVE BEEN INFECTED WITH THE WOKE MIND VIRUS! I NEVER SUGGESTED YOU SHOULD START EATING BUGS AND LIVE IN A POD TO CHANGE THE WEATHER!” Jesus yelled at him.
A big muscular man sitting behind Jesus tapped him on the shoulder and said: “Hey Jesus, I was never much into you, because you always seemed like some sort of preachy beta cuck to me, but I guess you’re pretty based actually. Thanks for speaking out against the great replacement, very alpha. I actually started listening to Handel’s Messiah yesterday, I pretended really hard to enjoy it and almost managed to quench a speck of joy from it. It’s different from the usual hardstyle I listen to in the gym, but I’m trying to become more sophisticated you know.”
“Yeah I’m glad you figured that out. I’m not into this doomsday cultism of these hysterical climate change alarmists. These people think they’re living in the end times or something, as if the world is about to end. Ha! Ridiculous! Who would believe such a thing? Definitely not me!” Jesus responded. “If there’s anything that pisses me off, it’s Laudato Si and other Earth-worship crap pushed by that communist heretic in the Vatican.” Jesus replied.
“Let me make this very clear: Other than abortion, the great moral challenge of our era is whether you people use birth control while having sex. That’s what really pisses me off. As far as I am concerned, you’re perfectly within your right to burn down the forests and fossil fuels stored beneath your feet and to leave the world’s poorest countries where people still practice self-sufficient agriculture to deal with any possible consequences, which are all an inflated hysterical hoax anyway, as CO2 is actually plant food.” Jesus further clarified.
“Gotcha bro.” The bodybuilder responded. Jesus felt as if his mission on Earth was now done. The bodybuilder bettered his ways, he stopped pounding slutty Asian expat students he met through Tinder in the butt, but married a young wife and settled down instead, having eight beautiful blonde children. He converted his friends on Twitter too and soon for people around the world being Trad became a lifestyle to aspire to. People began drinking raw milk again and eating organ meat bought from the Amish, like their ancestors did before liberalism. Jesus looked down from heaven and smiled, happy to see the world was no longer deserving of fire and brimstones, at least as long as the woke mind virus does not return.