What the Bible would look like if Jesus was born in 1980: Luke Edition

And there were skateboarders loitering outside of a Food Lion nearby, keeping watch out for the police. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they took out their cameras and took numerous pictures. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people," but one skater interrupted him. "We already heard about Jesus on the news," he said to the angel. "We were going to drive up there tomorrow. Thanks, though." (Luke 2: 8-12)

Every other weekend his parents went to the movies in town. When he was twelve years old, they went to watch 'The Last of the Mohicans', because they had read some great reviews. After they left to watch the film, while his parents were in their Toyota Camry, the boy Jesus stayed behind at home, but they were unaware of it. Thinking he was in their company, they traveled on for a few minutes. Then they looked in the rear-view mirror and saw that he was not in their presence. When they did not find him in their car, they went back to their house to look for him. After some time they found him in the town arcade, playing Mortal Kombat, listening to the cries of his enemies and totally ripping some faces. Everyone who saw him was amazed at his skill and hand-eye coordination. When his parents saw him, they were astonished. His mother said to him, "Son, why have you treated - did you just tear his spine out!? Move over." (Luke 2: 41-48)

While a large crowd of reporters was gathering and people were coming to Jesus from town after town, he told this parable: "A person sent out all of his tweets from his BlackBerry. As he was sending the tweets, some fell upon the ignorant; it was hated on, because they did not understand his sense of humor. Some fell upon deaf ears and blind eyes, as they were not logged in at the time. Still others will never read the tweets, because the man only had five followers and his popularity was choked out by the more popular users. Still other tweets fell onto his friends. It was read and yielded re-tweets a hundred times more than was sown." (Luke 8: 4-8)

"Or suppose a guido is selected to go to Jersey Shore for a season of filming. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is willing to give up his life back home to live with a group of idiots? If he is not able, he will send a disappointed e-mail informing the producers that he cannot be on the show. In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple." (Luke 14: 31-33)

I Want Candy

Ah, beautiful autumn. Leaves have turned to warmer colors as the air has grown cooler, the pumpkin population is rising, and The Green looks like a quickly decaying corpse. Fall brings back so many great memories; I remember of jumping into and being engulfed by gargantuan piles of leaves and emerging screaming because bits of twig and foliage had latched onto my cornea like some sort of leafy lamprey. It's just a wonderful time of year.

I've always felt that everything is tastier in the fall. Think about it - a hot bowl of chili is so much more comforting just when the weather gets a bit nippy, turkey is never as delicious as on that fourth Thursday of November, and that Twix bar with a razor blade hidden inside of it is totally worth it on Halloween night. Heck, some of our editors here at the Collegian even eat some of the crispier leaves. Fall food is good food.

I can imagine the feast waiting for me when I return home for fall break: Hungry Jack mashed potatoes fresh out of the box; a nice TLT sandwich where the turkey is nice and lean, and the tomato is ripe; and a large, shimmering ham on which someone thought it would be a good idea to place pineapples (haven't we had enough of these yet?). And who doesn't love the autumnal desserts? Cranberry sauce, yams, pumpkin pie - okay, I actually hate those. But there's banana pudding, Oreo pie, and any of the various candies still leftover from Halloween!

That's why a few weeks ago when I swore off sugar for a month, I made the biggest mistake of the season imaginable. One day after I had been inspired by a friend to take on the self-imposed challenge, I was informed that Halloween was this month (look, my calender called it "All Hallow's Eve," okay?). And imagine my surprise when I found out that soft drinks have sugar in them! Not only had I banned myself from the biggest candy night of the year, but I had also eliminated my primary source of fluids.

The next night was Trustees' open dorm. To keep myself from being tempted by the sugary delicacies that would no doubt be offered to entice unwitting females into our rooms, I went to an '80s party at UK (well, that's my excuse anyway). Sporting only the shortest of electric blue shorts, I arrived to find myself bombarded by so many forbidden fruits: Snickers and Kit-Kats and gummi bears, oh my! I sighed and grabbed a bottle of water.

After an exhausting three-hour session of not dancing, our group went to good ole Steak 'n Shake. I stood in all of my indecent glory as we waited to be seated (you ever feel like everyone in the room is staring at your... you know?), and remembered the pact I had made with myself as we made it to our table. "Yes, could I have a banana strawberry side-by-side shake without all the ice cream and stuff? Thanks." The waitress didn't seem to understand my needs. "You mean, like, just a banana and some strawberries? Sorry, I don't think we can do that," she informed me. Darn it. I really wanted that shake. "Do you have a steak-shake or something? Like just a blended up hamburger? Ooh! And some fries, too!"

After being declined my perfectly reasonable request, I had to sit complacently and watch everyone else slowly drink their delicious, creamy nectar. No one even finished their entire milkshake! Neither my tears nor saliva could quench my thirst for sugar. Will I even be sane when I receive that sweet release on November 7th? Only time will tell. But the road to Candy Land thus far has been paved with sweat and will power, not chocolate and caramel. After all, nobody said it would be a piece of cake.

Dynasaur

By Taio Rex

I-I-I-I-I-I
I came to eat-eat-eat-eat
I smash the ground with both my feet-feet-feet-feet
I'm looking for some tasty meat-meat-meat-meat
Give me some space for my big teeth-teeth-teeth-teeth.
Yeah, yeah.

And I go on and on and on.
And I go on and on and on.
Yeah.

I throw my small arms in the air sometimes
Saying 'oh no, I'm just too slow.'
I want to chase them down and end their life
Saying 'ay-oh, now watch me go"
Cause we gon' smash this club
Like never before
We gon' tear it up
Like a dinosaur.
Cause I told you once
I won't say no more
We gon' tear it up
Like a dinosaur.

I came to chew-chew-chew-chew
Get out the way or I'll eat you too-too-too-too
And what this club is gonna do-do-do-do
Is get turned into a zoo-zoo-zoo-zoo.
Yeah, yeah.

And it comes closer, closer now.
And then the comet hits the ground.
Yeah.

I throw my small arms in the air sometimes
Saying 'ay-oh, where'd my friends go?'
I wanna celebrate but they all died
Saying 'oh no, I'm on my own.'
Cause we gon' smash this club
Like never before
We gon' tear it up
Like a dinosaur.
Cause I told you once
I won't say no more
We gon' tear it up
Like a dinosaur.

I'm gonna be the king like
I'm gonna rule the late Cretaceous
I'm gonna eat them all like
Cause everyone is so delicious
Cause I-I-I will eat it
And I-I-I, I just want to maul, I just want to maul.
I'm gonna put my hands in the air
Two fingers in the air
Put your hands in the air-air-air-air-air-air-air-air

I throw my small arms in the air sometimes
Saying 'ay-oh, so long ago'
I'm living in the land before time
Saying 'ay-ooh, soon I'll be coal.'
Cause we gon' smash this club
Like never before
We gon' tear it up
Like a dinosaur.
'Cause I told you once
I won't say no more
We gon' tear it up
Like a dinosaur.

CMT: Country Music Torture

Being low on blood is not a good thing (if you ever find yourself bleeding profusely from several orifices, I suggest you get that looked at). Because this vital fluid is inimitable and donated blood is a life saving necessity for millions, I give away my primo blood as frequently as I can. Just imagine, if you ever cut your arm off or something, the doctors could potentially be placing my blood in your body. That's a neat thought, isn't it? You would be, like, 3% cooler.

Anyway, I was at a blood drive a few months ago where I intended to give a double red blood cell donation, which basically just means the process would be twice as long as usual. I walked into the room, becoming aware that there was a large screen on which something was being projected, and began filling out a questionnaire - one of those designed to ensure that your blood is free of viruses and disease, that asks stuff like, "Have you ever had sex with a hypodermic needle?" I couldn't recall that I had, so I checked "No".

The next step was generally a painless prick of the finger to test the iron of my blood. However, this time, I think the poor woman misread the direction of "gently press against finger" as "stab violently into bone, bruising finger for three days." At least she tried to make up for it with a compliment: "Your iron looks really good, sweety." Uh, thanks?

"It's a little piece of paradise," I heard being sung. "Way out here in the woods." I reclined in what would be my seat for the next hour or so. "There's always something going on," I cringe. "Down in the trailerhood." I squirm in my seat. Yes, country music videos - the bane of my existence, the ever-present mucus in my ears, the spoiled milk in the refrigerator of the music industry - were being displayed mockingly on a jumbo-tron screen worthy of Jerry Jones.

I grab the nurse violently by the collar and scream, "I meant to check 'yes'! I did it! My blood is unclean! Get me out of here, now! Please!" I snap back to reality. "Okay, looks good," the woman informs me politely. She had pierced my arm with a pencil-width needle without me even noticing. I sat silently and prayed for the vampiric machine to suck the life out of me before I was subjected to any more songs about abusive husbands, cowboys, or tractors. "God, I don't ask you for much, but if I could just pass out for like half-an-hour..." My prayer went unanswered.

Feeling as if I were being water-boarded, I began to meditate and focus solely on the changing color of my forearm, to keep my mind off the pain: tan to red, red to purple, purple to - is this Reba!? "Come on, think of a good song... 'Once upon a time there was light in my life, but now there's only love in the dark. Nothing I can say; total eclipse of my achy breaky heart, I just don't think it'd understand.'" I emitted a scream of ultimate suffering. The poison had overtaken my subconscious.

Upon finishing the donation, I walked numbly over to the refreshment area to to get a snack (if you don't fill up pretty quickly, you tend to get a little fainty).  As I gazed at the abomination before me, I gobbled down Nutty Bars like Snooki would pickles. I felt utterly desensitized, like a young soldier who returns home utterly broken by the horrors of war. No longer was I disgusted. No longer was I even human; I was a zombie.

I stammered out the door and to my car. The engine revved and the radio clicked into action. "I don't know how I can do without - I just need you now." I didn't change the station - in fact, I hummed the tune. I pulled out of the parking lot with a smile on my face. "Ya know, I could get used to this." I then drove off a cliff and died. The end.