Rev. Dr. Jesus Hachecristo
Many of you long-haulers here at the Salon remember my cousin, Jesus Hachecristo. He’s always got some kind of scam going. For awhile, he went by the name of “Caddo Joe” and pretended to be a tribal fishing guide on Toledo Bend. According to history, the Spanish encountered the Caddo 400 years ago and asked, “Where the hell are we? And which way to the city of gold?” They interpreted the word ”tejas” as the name of the where, but it really meant “friend,” according to Texas, which is well-known to be the friendliest place on earth to immigrants. According to Caddo Joe, it actually meant, “Who are you assholes?” which is why he didn’t last long as a Texas fishing guide.
Back when Hurricane Harvey Hit Houston Hard, Jesus was amazed to learn that Joel Osteen, plasticized pastor, had a mansion, a kachillion dollars, and enough cars to start his own luxury dealership. He did this by following the gospel, which says, “Sell all you have, give to the poor and follow me.” That doesn’t apply to him, you understand, but to his followers. In this transactional sort of grace, Joel is the salaried middleman, who collects a pretty hefty skim off the top before the poor see so much as a widow’s mite.
But when those poor, up to their hips in Harvey water, came knocking at Joel’s megachurch for a dry place not to drown, he treated them like Noah’s neighbors and pretended no one was home at the ark.
“Primo, how can I get into this?” an excited Jesus asked. He has suspended drivers’ licenses in about 18 states and thought one car for each would be pretty cool.
I suggested he study how the competition did it, and emulate them. So, one Sunday, we toddled on down to the Compaq Center, dba Lakewood Megachurch and Mint, where Jesus asked a security dude in khakis and a golf shirt where the guest-pastor section was.
The dude looked us up and down and said, “Say, aren’t you Caddo Joe?”
Which is how we ended up in an old mall-anchor Sears store now occupied by “The Power and The Glory Megachurch.” Luckily, the security dude we ran into there was a bowler, and while there was no guest-pastor section, we were given a seat in the Craftsman section, in the back, near the doors, which is always a good place to be when you’re out with Jesus.
The house band was pretty shitty; the Heavenly Host Dancers were okay, but their robes mostly hid the spastic Riverdance moves they made, clogging on cue like the Holy Spirit had just smitten their basal ganglia. Then the headliner, Reverend Will O’Creak, took the stage like a rock star.
Sporting a natty grey suit, Pastor O’Creak looked like an accountant but spoke like a country song, which I pointed out to Jesus was the basic skillset for preachers. He began with a loud verbal flourish, like a title.
“The Spanish Armotta!” – by which he meant “Armada” – was a vast fleet Spain had sent to give England the Montezuma Treatment, but a terrible storm and the opportunistic English Navy scattered the fleet from hell to breakfast. O’Creak gave all the power and the glory to “Owlmighty Gawd,” who sent the storm, thereby saving England to thereby save North America from the terrible fate of Spanish America:
“PreDOMINANTLY Roman Catholic!”
At this point, two scions of Catholic Spanish America, Primo Encarnación and his cousin, Jesus Hachecristo, sank pretty low in their seats in the back. “I thought this was nondenominational,” he whispered. I shushed him and tried to look nondenominational.
The screed continued about how bad Catholics were, how America was chosen by Owlmighty Gawd to be the shining city, the new Jerusalem. America is Christian; Christianity is American; the Others are out to get us! But Gawd will make us win and the pastors – wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross – would be in charge: One Gawd to Rule Them All. And all we had to do to get in on the ground floor of world domination was Donate Right Now.
To the strains of “Onward Christian Soldiers,” khaki-clad security dudes (“marching as to war”) began passing the plates, which were actually a set of fry baskets lined in green felt, like a casino table. We took that opportunity to escape.
Standing outside, next to one of the big mall planters, Jesus was shaken. “Primo, I don’t know if this is for me,” he said. “I don’t mind a grift,” (I rolled my eyes) “but these guys are talking about authoritarian theocracy.”
“Plus, all our family are their enemy,” I added, “for several reasons. The Salon, too.” So, later that night, we stole the planters from the Church of the Sears & the Roebuck, and relocated them in front of the Salon, to discourage Gawd’s Owlmighty car bombs, which is how I became the Deputy Director of Homeland Security for the World’s Most Dangerous Beauty Salon.
And which is why, to this day, there is no Jesus in Christian Nationalism.
Genius
1BRAVO!!!
2Your writing leaves me speechless. That’s a compliment by the way.
3The Craftsman section? Wow, you rate. Us ladies had to sit in the Kenmore section.
4Reminds me of the preacher in the small Baptist church our family attended in my youth. Prior to the election in 1960, we were treated to a weekly dose of “If Kennedy is elected president, the Pope will rule America!” Was about that time I began to realize that I wasn’t required to believe everything the preacher says! Thanks for the great laugh today!
5Every word of that was hilarious, and sadly accurate. Well done!
6dbtexas, I remember those attacks against JFK well. Now in 2024 we have a Catholic president, six members of the Supreme Court and a seventh (Gorsuch) who was raised Catholic but is now Episcopalian, a member church of the worldwide Anglican Communion aka the Church of England whose Supreme Governor is none other than King Charles III. You can’t make this stuff up. And well done Primo. That was fun.
7Thank you for the kind words, folks, and raise a cup, if you will, to my late cousin, Christopher, who left us last year. His checkered career and casual acquaintance with reality were the template for Jesus Hachecristo. To the whole family, including his parents, his life removed from us all was a shadow puppet show that we wished was mostly true.
Chris could talk his way into anything, which took moxie. But not out of, unfortunately. Yet he sailed on implacably to the end.
Pour one out for an original enigma.
8Primo, as somebody who never met the man, I’m gonna speculate that Christopher woulda been proud of that.
9Here’s to hoping (glass raised for two reasons now) that you can keep keeping us company.
If for no other reason than the last line of that was a culminatory ending of truly gratifying proportions.
(Yeah, fairly certain at least one of those words I made up.)
Raising a cup right now and looking forward to more from you here at the salon!
10No Doggy, No Jeebus – both products of scamvangelists imagination, to steal your money .
11What they all said. Bloody brilliant….we all thank you!
12Wow, thanks.
13What a way to start the day.
winner winner, chicken dinner.
14More please.
What Opinionated Hussy says.
15Tio Primo
16Genius shines with its own kind of beauty. Looking to share a pew with you sometime, I’ll buy when if you beat me to the Metropolitan Diary.
“And which is, why to this day, there is no Jesus in Christian Nationalism.” Brilliant!!! Or, as others have said, “the religious right is neither.”
17Trailer park Did the band have Silvertone Amps?
18SO very happy that you are back on duty, Primo! This made my day!
19Thirty-two years before JFK, Al Smith ran for president. Baptist preachers assured their congregations that if he won, he’d build a tunnel from Washington to Rome so the pope could drop by and give him his orders personally. Not saying Baptists are dumb, but nobody laughed out loud.
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