The cuttlesignal went off the other day–I’ve misplaced the link, but it was another case of pareidolia; a business was in tough times and needed a sign that everything was going to be ok, and then *drumroll, angelic trumpets* the image of Jesus appeared in a flag, or a towel, or an awning, I forget which. It hit the news when a local priest agreed to go check it out–and of course, business at that [water park, I think] has been booming. It helps that there has been a heat wave, after two consecutive summers of record rainfall during the busy season. But I guess this was just J’s way of making sure we all knew who was responsible for the good weather.
And I started thinking–are there ever any of these cases where someone sees Christ in their shower curtain and thinks “eww, mold–I’d better clean” instead of “call the priest and FOX news!”? I mean, there have got to be times when Jesus is just not the guy you want hanging around… (for my non-USA readers, “Hints from Heloise” is a newspaper advice column with household cleaning and cooking tips.)
Dear Heloise, I’m writing cos I need some good advice,
And I knew that this was trouble, by the time I’d washed it twice
It’s a rather dicey problem, so I hope you’ll be discreet:
See, I’ve got the face of Jesus on my sheet.
It all started when I noticed, just a week ago, a stain;
It was still there after washing, but I’m not one to complain
If it’s clean enough for sleeping on, there’s nothing more to do
But my girlfriend had a different point of view
We were heading for the bedroom for a bit of bad behavior
When my girlfriend was distracted by the visage of Her Savior
And I knew, as of that moment, I was wholly out of luck,
Cos my girlfriend won’t let Jesus watch us fuck.
Just a bit of dirty laundry
But it’s got me in a quandary
So I’m asking you to help me get it clean
Cos I’d love to do some sinnin’
But with Jesus on my linen
I’ve a snowball’s chance in hell to get obscene
I’ve tried OxyClean and Method; I’ve tried Gain, and All, and Tide;
I could sit here twenty minutes, listing all the things I’ve tried
I’ve tried bleaching and ammonia, but I’ve only met defeat;
There is still the face of Jesus on my sheet!
I could make a bit of money if I called the local priest,
And the local news affiliates—or email FOX, at least,
All the money-making options leave me dizzy in the head
When I only want to get my girl in bed
If I tell her it’s spaghetti sauce, or motor oil, or semen,
She would hit me with her rosary and shun me as a demon
So I’m asking you, Dear Heloise, cos you’re my only hope,
Have you got a special Christ-removing soap?
So the problem, as I tol’ ya
Is annoying pareidolia
She sees Jesus Christ, where Jesus really ain’t
Though my Mary ain’t a virgin
She’ll need more than simple urgin’
Cos with Christ around, she’s acting like a saint
I could soak and boil and scrub it, for forever and a day
Or just give it to my girlfriend, and then send them both away
Cos the problem’s not the image, when you get right down to facts,
No, the problem is in how the world reacts.
There was Christ in a potato; there was Satan in a cloud;
There were things in Rorschach inkblots that we dared not speak aloud
It’s a feature of perception, not a puzzle to perplex
So go on, let Jesus watch you having sex!