The Telegraph reported that Toby Elles, a bank cashier, nearly checked out when he “fell asleep cooking some bacon” and awoke, startled to find that cooked into the skillet was non other than the pan-seared prophet himself.

“My housemates and I had a few beers earlier in the evening [Editors' note: this should come as no surprise to anyone] and I thought I would snack before going to bed and as it was cooking I decided to take a rest on the couch. When I woke up about an hour later the room was full of smoke.”

That the Savior would be rendered in bacon fat  is in keeping with his artery-clogging culinary tour which has included pancakes, fish sticks, Pizza Hut pasta, pierogis and Kit Kat bars. Considering his name is so often uttered in restaurant kitchens (albeit with the modifying gerund in between that starts with ‘F’ and ends in ‘G’) perhaps it’s not suprising that he’s been made to order.   

Elles, who is considering making a glass case for his find, considers it a miracle and that the image is uneqivocally JC, however we’re not so sure (see pic below).

The crusty likeness could also easily be South American Marxist revolutionary and noted t-shirt Che Guevara and not just because it suits the name, but 70s-era Eagles guitarist Glenn Frey.

Also, a case could be made for Daniel Day Lewis as Bill the Butcher from Gangs of New York, WWE wrestler Al Snow, possibly Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider and at one time or another, all members of the Allman Brothers Band except the black guy.

Andre the Giant: a saint among men

We’d like to extend  our sincerest well-wishings to the family of wrestling’s most agile big-man, the late André René Roussimoff, or as he was known to fans of the squared circle, Andre the Giant, for his recent beatification.

It’s high time the Vatican and pretty much everyone else, finally recognized his work, both as a pioneer in the world of sports entertainment, as a strongman, showman and for his marble-mouthed, yet highly underrated turn in The Princess Bride opposite Mandy Patinkin and Cary Elwes (and to a much lesser extent, his feud with the Masked Superstar/Maurauder and brief tag-team work with Jimmy Superfly Snuka).

As Gorilla Monsoon noted, “you should see him dial a phone”.

For a man who gave everything he got, inspiring terror in the faces of Japanese taxi drivers, we honor this sainthood announcement from the Vatican, which was a long-time coming.

May many a high-school sweat suit in eastern Canada, be graced with his name.

Please see our Top 10 Jesus Sightings and Top 10 Offensive Religious Art Pieces! Also, feel free to check out a fun list of the Top 10 Sex-Crazed Cult Leaders

Yep folks, there is more than one Hell.

We’re not particularly religious, except to claim membership when there’s a holiday from work to be had…That being said, here’s one religion whose collection plate we’d leave a little heavier than we found it, rather than the usual reverse.

Though we’re more accustomed to ‘cosmic bowling’ (for the uninitiated, it’s not particularly ‘cosmic’ it’s just regular bowling, glow-in-the-dark style so you can watch your ball roll down a gutter that is as lit up as the average bowler) a so-called ‘commander of the cosmic squadron’ is one of the ostensible prophets of this particular group pictured here (Click here for our previous Top 10 Horniest Cult Leaders).

From what we can gather—unfortunately, we could not delve a bit more into their teachings as their literature is currently being recycled by the city of Toronto—this group believes that lizard-like creatures (Saurians) are looking to enslave mankind by implanting some kind of robotic chip in our brains, which may or may not mean a quicker scan-through in the 8-items or less line at the supermarket but most certainly means membership in the select ‘911 Was an Inside Job‘ fraternity.

A certain prophet ‘Ptaah’—see upper right-hand corner of the picture above—“is a band of energy that exists in every where and every when. In order to communicate with us in third density, he steps down that energy ‘through the Pleiades’ in much the same way that a transformer steps down electrical energy. He speaks through Australian Jani King’, which from what we gather on Google is the world’s largest commercial cleaning franchise. This connection is yet to reveal itself as we only speak conversational ‘second density’, but if there’s carpets to be steam-cleaned and hallways to be wet-mopped, perhaps it soon will.

The ‘Pleiades’, is actually a star cluster obvious to the human eye, referenced all the way back in the Iliad and Odyssey. The Japanese name is ‘Subaru’, currently partnered with auto giant Toyota, the significance of which has also yet to reveal itself, but may still depending on how the bail out package takes hold.

Stay tuned and please check out Holy Christ in the Cornflakes! Top 10 Jesus Sightings.

The French poet Jacques Prevert (and no, that is not a typo; he apparently got there ahead of the perverts), once said:   “Art is never chaste. It ought to be forbidden to ignorant innocents, never allowed into contact with those not sufficiently prepared. Yes, art is dangerous. Where it is chaste, it is not art.” Well these are unchaste works that came into contact with many people who were not sufficiently prepared; most of these would probably have even drawn a “Sacre Bleu!” from Prevert himself. These are the kind of art works that confirm the worst suspicions of little old ladies and give that zealot shaking his fist in anger on the news that much added wrist strength. They have been the subject of protests, letters to the editor and more cries of “is that where my tax dollars are going?” than Canadian cinema. And here they are, the Top 5 Most Offensive Pieces of Religious Art!

5.Yo Mama’s Last Supper by Renee Cox : It all started with Leonardo da Vinci, who was a waiter at the Last Supper and later painted it to help pay his way through art school. Wait, that’s not true, da Vinci was not there, but he did somehow manage to get the seating plan. He created  one of the iconic artworks of the Christian tradition. Since then, numerous artists have done versions of the last supper that don’t feature the original cast members. (Check out this website for 101 “Last Suppers, with everyone from Luke Skywalker to Popeye in the JC role [Of particular interest is who gets the Judas spot in each of these.... Shame on you Captain Crunch. I always knew that sugar rush came at a price.])

Renee Cox’s Yo Mama’s Last Supper, not to be confused with the 80s sitcom “Mama’s Family“, starring Vicki Lawrence in an old lady’s wig as the head of an ignorant hillbilly household, is a photographic work featuring the artist, naked and centre stage, surrounded by 12 black men. Yo Mama drew the ire of Rudy Giuliani (more on him later) who said, “I think that what they did is disgusting, it’s outrageous.” Cox, in a good bit of hypocrite-spotting, wondered from which source the mayor, who had recently separated from his wife due to his penchant for slipping off the wedding ring when a little bit of lovely walked by, derived his moral authority. “Now that he’s been busted with the other woman, I wouldn’t be talking about moral issues,” she said.

What some saw as a blatant attack on an already battle-weary church, others saw as a bold and striking statement on the part of an artist looking to claim a place for herself — by force if need be — in a domain previously off limits to women. We on the other hand, are just thankful that it was Cox and not da Vinci who opted for the starkers self-portrait.

4. Bearded Orientals: Making The Empire Cross by Priscilla Bracks: Back to Australia now and the same exhibition that hosted our No. 9 entry, only one year prior to that. The controversy caused by Homely Jesus was mild compared to this one at year earlier at the same gallery, presumably because the protesters, including the former and current prime minister, had gone hoarse bellowing their condemnation of this one. Priscilla B. exhibited a work that saw the face of Jesus Christ morph into that of Osama Bin Laden. It was the blasphemous equivalent of those pens your buddy’s weird uncle would always have that showed a woman in a bikini flashing the goods if you turned it a certain way.

Former Aussie PM John Howard was not shy about breaking out the adverbs to convey his anger, calling the painting “gratuitiously offensive”. The artist herself denied that she had set out to provoke anyone. “No, no, no”, she said. And perhaps that was not the complete and utter lie it appears to be on first read and our first impression was correct and this is merely a study in beard styles through the ages.

3. The Dogsbody Cartoons of Lars Vilks: We set out initially to cover only works of art that have been presented in galleries, and these cartoons would have fallen into that category had every gallery that was presented with them not refused to show them. Lars Vilks is a Swedish cartoonist who set off a firestorm (and if some of his more zealous detractors have their way…) by drawing cartoons of Mohammad. Before we even get to the offensive part of this, let’s just remember that any attempt to render a likeness of the founder of Islam is verboten in that culture. But in this case — The Prophet’s head on the body of a dog — well we’re pretty sure that meets the standard for blaspheming a revered figure of any religion, save possibly The Church of Thick-Skinned Followers of a Guy Who May Not be Right Anyway, Wadda We Know?.

Lars arranged for some watercolour cartoons he had done along a similar line to be shown in a Swedish gallery, which later pulled out, possibly fearing that the other paintings might not hold up so well while the building is on fire. Vilks himself had to go into hiding, and had a $150,000 bounty put on his head. We couldn’t find these cartoons after a VERY cursory search and we did not break a sweat trying. The only persistent and fanatical people we enjoy antagonizing on a regular basis are telemarketers and those people who try to sign you up for fixed rates on your gas bill.

(There has not been any word recently on Vilks’ progress in turning the controversy over the cartoons into a musical. )

2.) Piss Christ by Andres Serrano: Bodily functions are ideal for profaning the sacred: having a 4am drunken pee on the steps of some religion or other’s house of worship; letting one rip just when the vicar asks the congregation for a moment of silence. Urine and excrement — in the right hands (hands that should be thoroughly washed before dinner) are particularly effective for inciting the faithful.

Apart from the submerged crucifix, Piss Christ is 95% water, .05% ammonia, .6%  sodium, and 100% sacrilegious art of the first order. In 1989, Andres Serrano pissed into a container — not because he was too lazy to make it to the toilet during the Super Bowl — dropped a crucifix in it, took a photo, and ended winning a federal arts prize. This led to the wrath of politicians such as Jesse Helms (recently deceased, see our list of 2008 — Those Who Won’t Be Missed), not exactly the most Christ-like figure when it came to segregation in the 60s, howling from the rooftops.

Serrano moved from Number One to Number Two with a photo collection featuring 66 turds laid by as many different types of animals, and the artist himself.

1.) Holy Virgin Mary by Chris Ofili: It’s hard to know what was a more upsetting moment for Rudy Giuliani: finding out America didn’t really like him all that much when he ran for president or clocking eyes on this piece of work (in a catalogue, not the gallery), and found more causes of upset for the high profile Catholic than a week of rectory exposees on 20/20.  British artist Ofili’s depiction of the Holy Virgin Mary that featured a black Mary, elephant dung on her breast (now had did that get there?) surrounded by what might appear cherubs at first glance, but once you put your contacts in and give it a googly-eyed peer, actually turn out to be naked lady parts. Ofili uses elephant dung on much of his artwork. This is apparently not uncommon in Africa, and indeed places elsewhere in the world use elephant dung for purposes other than pointing it at out at a zoo, grimacing and asking “Where’s the bloody groundskeeper?”

Most people wouldn’t know that and the combination of Mary, dung, and arses would be enough to cause the toupee to rise, hover for a moment, and fall back on the bald head of even the most casual Christmas-Easter churchgoer. Strengthening its case for number one, the painting did what any truly offensive religious painting should do, it drove an elderly man to an act of vigilantism. A 72-year-old man attended a viewing of the show, faked sickness and leaned against a wall, and while the museum staff were wondering awkwardly if anyone would notice if they took a coffee break to avoid having to deal with the old timer getting ready for the last round-up, he took out a tube of paint and squirted it all over Ofili’s painting. He got a $250 fine.

CLICK HERE FOR PART ONE

Ron English's Mousetrap

It used to be that the best art was religious art. Churches were the major patrons of the arts and they commissioned masters to give the faithful something to look at during those interminable hours of sweating while listening to Latin jibber-jabber and dreading the arrival of the collection plate.

Great artists like Michelangelo did things like paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel likely because the church had the deepest pockets around – it was the Renaissance equivalent of paying the rent by drawing dirty cartoons for Hustler.

It was inevitable though that the bond between artist and the church would break The church lost its power and artists turned to other patrons, like big fat government grants to do a walk-in installation recreating the conditions inside a gorilla’s womb.

Religious art meanwhile has become almost as offensive to the eyes as modern religious music is to the ears. The current Pope has said recently – that he would like to engage modern artists just like in the old days. The director of the Andy Warhol Museum ’s response to the art that might be commissioned by the likes of Joseph Ratzinger was measured. “With luck it won’t be hideous,” he said.

We’re guessing though that galleries worldwide are unlikely to start clearing out their Pollacks to make way for Padre Paul’s Colorful Cassock Series. It is far likelier that when art and religion are mentioned in a news story, it will be because the former has horribly offended the latter. Should even a dime of taxpayers’ money have gone into the creation or exhibition of the work, or to the toilet paper used in the crapper of the gallery showing it, an upholder of the public virtue will be quoted, calling the work a disgrace. The artist meanwhile will offer a comment sure to alienate and antagonize about how his depiction of Christ crapping into a cowboy hat would lead to world peace if his audience had spent half the time in art school he did.

Here are 10 of the most offensive works of art to have received mainstream press coverage.

10. “A Trilogy: The Iconoclasts,” by Colin Self (also known as “The Buddha’s Banana”): It’s not too often that you hear of a group of incensed Buddhists raising a ruckus over artwork they deem offensive to their faith. This is in part due to the fact that for many Buddhists, the Buddha was not a deity in the common sense of that word or someone who God took out on a boating trip and explained the mysteries of the universe to. This disconnect with the big bearded and mean one in the sky (and we don’t mean Richard Branson) probably softens their outlook a bit. Or maybe karma has them convinced that the offending artist should enjoy his chuckles now before returning in the next life as a dung beetle with a human sense of smell.

But in October, 2007, a display at the Saint Giles Street Gallery in Norwich England featuring a seated Buddha with a banana and a pair of eggs placed in such a manner as to suggest not lunch, but that the meditating one had succumbed to the natural male reaction of sitting in one place and being left with one’s own thoughts for an extended period of time. The protests died down when the offending statue was moved so as not to be visible to every passer-by.

9. Corpus Christi (Only Women Bleed) by Adam Cullen (also known as Homely JC): We will return to Australia — and to this very annual exhibition — later on in this list. First up we have “Corpus Christi (Only Women Bleed)”, which, like all great works of art, takes the second part of its name from an early Alice Cooper ballad. But the effrontery here had nothing to do with the artist’s choice in 80s glam rockers, but rather because one of the judges of the exhibition could not stomach what he called the “deliberate ugliness” of the work. So, while many of us have been in a gallery, looked at a painting worth more than the combined value of all our worldly possessions and those of the guy with the better car next door and remarked, “Christ, that’s ugly,”, this judge had a similar feeling for a painting of JC himself. And granted this isn’t exactly the “good looking hippy who takes baths” to which we’ve become accustomed. This guy looks like someone who didn’t need to worry about borrowing his parents’ car on prom night. But so what? He’s got a great personality.

8. “Feet First”, by Martin Kippenberger: We blogged about this one last September, a sculpture of a frog, his tongue hanging out, holding a beer mug in one hand and an egg in the other. It was either a statement on the angst of human life, or a prototype for the mutant ninja turtles… we’re not certain.

The piece was created in 1990 and went on display in museums around the world for the next 18 years. The person who created it also kept busy during that time with many projects, chief among them dying, which he did during that time. But it wasn’t until 2008 that “Feet First” received international attention. A local worthy in a small Italian town objected to the statue being on display at a local gallery and threatened a hunger strike until it was removed. What could have just ended in the gallery exhibition running till its closing date and the hunger-strike guy being given a ham sandwich became an international incident when Pope Benedict jumped in and condemned the work. Showing the mighty weight of the church’s power in countries that are not in the third world, the small town refused to ban the exhibit and, presumably, the hunger striker has since hit a buffet or two. (Editor’s Note: While few churchgoers saw the likeness in our friend Terence the Toad here, it’s remarkable that a woman claiming the face of the Prince of Peace showed up on a tortilla, and who built a shrine to the holy foodstuff, was not made the target of Vatican intervention. See our Top 10 Oddball Jesus Sightings).

7. (Bharat Mata) Mother India by M.F. Husain: India has more gods per square kilometer than any country on earth and not surprisingly the one that can draw the ire of zealous nationalists quicker than most is Bharat Mata — Mother India. Over 90-year-old painter M.F Husain found this out the hard way when he broke with convention and painted Mother India au naturel, writing the names of various parts of the country on her body (Hyderabad, not Delhi, got the belly). Nationalists did not take kindly to seeing the embodiment of their country in goddess form displaying so much flesh and the court cases started against Husain, who, though regarded as one of India’s most well-respected artists, was forced to live in exile for years, with the threat of mobs and possibly jail time awaiting him at home. But before we get too maudlin about some 90-plus-year-old national treasure type artist being forced into exile by a group of zealous dingbats, we should note that the story does have a happy ending. According to the report linked above, the judge said: “Paintings were a matter of perspective and cannot be the basis for initiating criminal proceedings.”

6. “The Ninth Hour,” by  Maurizio Cattelan: With his successor looking like the kind of guy who divides his time equally between burning ants with a magnifying glass and pulling the wings off butterflies, it’s no wonder that Pope John Paul II is remembered in such a fond light by many. The PR effort that kicked into high gear following his death didn’t hurt either, starting immediately after his death, when his close aides said that on his death bed John Paul gave the papal equivalent of a Win One for the Gipper speech, despite his doctor saying that he hadn’t been able to talk for several days and that the day of his death was no different. Still, it worked and soon there was talk of doing the ecclesiastical equivalent of skipping him ahead a grade in school and fast-tracking JP’s case into sainthood.

It was amidst this orgy of papal worship that Maurizio Cattelan created The Ninth Hour, a life-size sculpture and set piece that takes up a room. It features John Paul on the ground after a meteorite just fell from the sky and crushed his legs. What does it mean? Is it a statement against the papacy? Does it reflect the randomness of existence and how no living being is under the protection of a divine being, no matter how expensive his robe? Is it meant to convey how unreliable the Weather Channel can be? Who knows, but it did dry the ire of church officials when it went on display at the Venice Biennele in 2001. It sold for $3 million in 2006.

CLICK HERE FOR THE TOP 5 MOST OFFENSIVE RELIGIOUS ART PIECES!

In a new book, the first instance in a long time that Google search engines have combined ‘sex’ and ‘priest’ without ‘scandal’ immediately following the former, a Polish Franciscan friar offers a theological and practical guide for bringing the Catholic faith into the boudoir (well, as practical as a guide can be doling out advice about something the author knows little about—like a cookbook authored by someone who’s never turned on a burner).

Speaking of getting turned on, you won’t with this (self deprecating?) title: “Sex as You Don’t Know It: For Married Couples who Love God,” by reverend Ksawery Knotz, a tome that seemingly has little in common with the tight-assed oppression most often associated with the Roman Catholic Church.

You’ll be relieved to know that much of the book stems not from first-hand accounts, but questions that Knotz encountered while counseling married couples—questions, it should be said, from the couples and not from the vicar himself like ‘young man, exactly what is meant by a meat missile mud bath?’

For other posts that delve into religion, please see our Top 20 Jesus Songs and Top 10 Jesus Sightings and stay tuned, as Monday we tackle— unorthodox is a nice way to put it—religious art.

Enlisting someone else to do our work is nothing new to us and we’re shocked we didn’t think of doing it before here — we have yet to enlist the aid of a guest blogger, or at least, given them a byline . The decision on who our first was going to be was a tough one. We received many promising-sounding pitches from those in some of this continent’s finer correctional facilities and we may have become millionaires in some sort of sweepstakes — in which case we’ll be off for a good debauch with a wad of cash so big our first order of business will be to choke a horse with it.

Visions and prognostications come to Mordoo most often during pick up soccer games

In the end, we settled on Mordoo The Magnifique [left] a Thai mystic who was the first to teach Noel how to prospect for treasure on Thai beaches and also which island bar is least likely to be frequented by those who would Bogart that joint my friend.

Let’s face it 2008 was a pretty shite year, but what does this year hold in store? Take it away Mordoo! (translated from the original Thai entrail-reading lingo):

—-

Friends, seers, revelators, undressers of the truth or those merely peering into the truth’s bedroom while she’s undressing and you’re in a condo across the street with a high-powered telescope and the lights off –  I have been asked by The Shark Guys through some kind of barter arrangement I didn’t fully understand, to look into that filthy tea mug of mine and communicate the visions that emerge from it so that you can steer yourself through 2009′s storms. It will be a rocky year at sea my friends, the kind of rockiness that inevitably results in tragic headlines in the following day’s newspapers and years of legal wrangling and calls for tighter safety regulations and mandatory life-jackets.

Here then, are the visions that have come to me for the calendar year 2009. I originally wanted to order them according to their numerological and astrological relevance, but since neither of my employers is versed in Egyptian hieroglyphs, I have opted for the more common Top 10 (though there are only nine) style they favor. [the number 10, it comes as no surprise to my faithful readership, will see its swan song in 09]

Miffy's going to love it in '09.

2009 Truth # 9 — Cats will begin to enjoy being in the water: In a shocking evolutionary development, cats will no longer freak out and claw your face off when you hold them over your pool during a drunken family barbecue and threaten to dump them in. In 2009, they will need no such prompting. Cats everywhere will be hopping into bodies of water, paddling merrily and purring because they are so happy.

2009 Truth # 8 — Buses will no longer admit the poor: You heard it here first: buses — traditionally the conveyance of the down at heel — will bar their doors to anyone who isn’t at least a little bit wealthy. Since even a credit-crunched rich person would sooner spoon out an eyeball than be seen on a bus, this will result in hordes of people walking everywhere, and you can expect some mighty well-turned calves and firm buttocks as a result.

2009 Truth #7 — Undertakers will get grossed out and quit en masse: In darker times, plagues were started because bodies were left outdoors to rot or dumped in the nearest stream, poisoning the drinking water and giving whole populations the kind of Montezuma’s Revenge that is final. Then along came the mysterious breed of person known as the undertaker, someone in a nice suit who offers to dispose of the dead for you for a reasonable fee and leaves all the horrible gruesome stuff for behind closed doors. This year though the plagues of yesteryear may return as undertakers everywhere will finally clue in to just how gross the work they do is. A tide of awareness will sweep throughout the industry with undertakers everywhere wondering: Why am I shoving a cork up this dead guy’s ass to extract his one remaining earthly fart when I could be the recreation director on a cruise ship?

No more of this BS.

2009 Truth #6 — It will be OK to litter in national parks: Visiting national parks is great — you get to see glorious nature and escape the concrete maze in which we — as rats in this particular analogy — race. They bring us back to simpler times for our species when we were masturbating in tree tops and wondering which other ape we’d most like to smash. But enjoying nature comes at a price — namely the exorbitant fine that some wannabe cop park ranger with an encyclopedic knowledge of which bear droppings mean what gets from you after you throw an empty six pack into a salmon run. In 2009, the rule will be “Ah eff it, let fly. The wind’ll probably blow it somewhere.”

2009 Truth #5 — That weird guy who sat behind you in school will become a revered prophet: Remember that weird guy, the one with the crossed eyes and a head on him that was so big you wondered how the tiny body underneath it didn’t collapse with strain? Yeah? Does the thought of that guy, even after all these years, still kind of give you the creeps? Me too, but he will be revealed in 2009 to be an almighty profit with extraordinary powers and he will take over all world religions. He will hold power over billions and you may be called on to fornicate with him. Deny him the booty at your peril.

2009 Truth #4 — Weather — all types in all places: 2009 will see various cloud formations forming over various land formations in various hemispheres of this planet we call Earth for lack of a better name. The sea will also conspire with various winds to create waves that may cause someone somewhere to vomit over the side of a boat. Someone else on that same boat may then wonder if that person really was sea sick, or if they had unwittingly married an alcoholic.

2009 Truth #3 — Everyone gets a recording contract: Good news aspiring musical artists: record companies will go for it this year by awarding every citizen his or her own lucrative recording contract. All citizens will be brought into the studio and asked to write lyrics, compose music and take part in the post production for their own self-titled debut album. While a real plus for those waiting for that one big break, it’s terrible news for those with tin ears and/or no musical aspirations whatsoever. Even those who don’t want a recording contract will be forced to sign one and refusal to perform could result in some guy just out on parole coming over to break your knees on behalf of an upset producer “who has a lot riding on this.”

2009 Truth #2 — Siamese Cats Turn out to be Polish: Returning to the feline world, it will be discovered via DNA testing and responses to stimulus such as pierogies and photos of the Kaczynski twins that Siamese cats are actually from Poland, not Thailand. They haven’t understood a word of anything for the past 150 years, and will be happy to see the end of all those bloody rice and noodle-based dishes.

2009 Truth #1 — Something Wicked This Way Comes:I hate to leave things on an eerie note, but did you hear that noise? No it’s not the creaky staircase that cheap ass landlord refuses to replace. And no it’s not just the wind blowing through this drafty heating-nightmare of a house. Something wicked this way comes. I ain’t sure what it is and it doesn’t turn up in photographs — regardless of whether they are taken using a digital or film camera. But I know this: it’s wicked, and it’s coming THIS way. Take all necessary precautions and in the words of my hero, that entirely accurate and perfectly specific prognosticator Michel De Nostradame: Put your head between your legs and smooch your own arse bye-bye!

May your Christmas be white, but also include people of color and a few trips to the fake and bake.

May the noxious carbon monoxide gases emanating from your fireplace not spread throughout the entire household.

May your gift cards not expire, nor eggnog before it is consumed.

May those who receive your gifts be fooled by Third World knock-offs.

May they do a better job of screening mall Santas.

May your hot toddies be 150-proof rum and habitually refreshed.

May your Santa’s Body Mass Index hover somewhere between overweight and normal.

May you be granted bail.

May your mistletoe amour’s countenance be blemish-free, eyes un-crossed.

May your vacuum not clog with pine needles.

May any grease fires be purposefully set for insurance reasons.

May nobody recognize the ass that was photocopied during the company office party and subsequently sent as a memo to all 500 of your coworkers as your own.

May your power bars weather the increased strain of holiday use.

May they be unable to prove anything in a court of law.

May you be able to get out of attending any religious observances that do not involve praying in front of a slot machine.

May the lead content in your dollar store purchases be at a level at, or ideally lower than that which is accepted by the Centers for Disease Control.

May your fire alarm batteries not leak.

May nary a single depressing holiday story related to the economy or a human interest tale of misery reach your festive years.

May those in the drunk tank with you be the non-screaming, non-stabby types.