Jesus

Jan Crouch, Professional Money Raiser

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crouchJan Crouch, who 43 years ago co-founded the world’s largest Christian television network with nothing more than a pocket full of hope, hair resembling the helmet Rick Moranis wore is Spaceballs, and $30,000 in fraudulently secured donations, is now crouching sideways six-feet under a praying mantis.

Crouch reportedly died of a stroke. When reached for comment a spokesman for the network refused to return a phone call because there wasn’t any money involved.

Jan Bethany first met Paul Crouch, her future husband, in the mid 1950s. An occurrence many atheists cite as the only real proof Satan exists.

After struggling in ministries in South Dakota and Michigan, the couple decided to move to Los Angeles in the early 1960s after a source tipped them off that Jed Clampett might be a good mark.

As the years passed, it was clear their union was a Christian match made in heaven: a minister’s daughter, whose dogs live in a $100,000 motor home, married to a pastor who’s fucking the male employees.

The Crouch Trinity Broadcasting Network was touch and go at first. But by the late 1980s their telethons raised more money than Jerry Lewis’ muscular dystrophy telethons, mainly because the couple looked like they needed more medical help.

Crouch’s last request was that her network continue stealing from low-income Americans.

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Eugene Polley, Inventor of The Wireless TV Remote Control

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Eugene Polley, inventor of the wireless television remote control, is no longer in control of anything.

Polley died in Downers Grove, Ill of natural causes, if such a thing was ever possible in Downers Grove.

Small and frail, the elderly Polley alarmed family members late Tuesday night after getting lost in the couch. Medical examiners were quick to note dog-chew marks on Polley’s torso and a sticky film of hummus or something all over his face.

Invented in 1955, Polley’s Flash-Matic remote worked like a flashlight and was shaped like a snub-nosed revolver, something many Americans would later shove in their mouths after watching eight hours of shitty westerns.

Sadly, the 96 year-old died before he had a chance to finish his most important invention: a remote control for his diaper.

Polley’s family expect him to be buried sometime next week. That is, if anybody can get off their fat ass and stop watching TV long enough to do something.

Polley requested four photoelectric cells be implanted in his scrotum so when Jesus returns to earth, the light from his vengeful sword will activate the small electric motor at the base of his penis and change his tombstone to the Dumont network.

From The Archives: Susan Atkins, Born Again Christian

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Morning Remembrance Portraits by Nathan Smith copyright 2011


Susan Atkins, whose fame stems mainly from the fact that she’s not nearly as cute as Squeaky Fromme, is dead

Atkins lived a quiet, middle-class existence during her early years, singing in her church choir and helping out with numerous charity stabbings.

After running away from home, the teenage Atkins was fortunate enough to meet up with our lord and savior, Jesus Christ, who asked her to live with him at Spahn’s Ranch.

It was there that Jesus taught her the finer points of robbery, murder, and pitching songs to music executives.

Atkins bragged that at the crime scene she tasted the blood of Sharon Tate. But what she didn’t know was that Tex Watson secretly replaced the blood of Tate with that of coffee heiress Abigail Folger. And believe you me, she could tell the difference.

Relatives and loved-ones can console themselves with the thought that Susan is now up in heaven giving gonorrhea to Dennis Wilson.

From The Archives: Horace Hagedorn, Fertilizer Giant

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Morning Remembrance Portraits by Nathan Smith copyright 2011

Horace Hagedorn, beloved founder of Miracle-Gro plant food, became his own compost last week when he died at the age of 89.

A source close to the family said Hagedorn passed mysteriously in the middle of the night, surrounded by millions of dead sardines.

Over the years, trust, loyalty and recognition for the Miracle-Gro brand grew to such heights, that in the 1960s, Hagedorn was inspired to come up with the motto, “Miracle-Gro doesn’t have customers, it has fans.” This was quickly followed up with the mottos, “Miracle-Gro is bigger than Jesus” and “I am the lizard king. Who’s gonna come up here and love my ass?”

Through his leadership, Mr. Hagedorn built Miracle-Gro into a giant chemical conglomerate, and also one of the world’s foremost sources of dead birds, deformed testicles, and children born without eyes.

Today, Mr. Hagedorn’s popular blue fertilizer is used by millions of gardeners around the world, in addition to an ever-growing number of Idaho militias and paramilitary groups.

Hagedorn requested his ashes be applied in a two-inch layer beneath a tulip bulb.

Donald J. Tyson, Chicken Choker

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Donald J. Tyson, visionary leader of Tyson Foods and instigator of the worst chicken holocaust since Kevin Smith’s last barbeque, is now on his way to processing.

The man who made eating chicken almost as safe as living under Chernobyl’s concrete containment dome, was found dead in his home, his legs grotesquely pulled apart and looped over his freakishly large breast muscles as if someone had made a cruel wish.

The health department discovered his body buried beneath half a foot of fecal waste which apparently was scheduled to be cleaned out every 18 months.

As a young boy working on his father’s chicken ranch, Tyson knew there was something about poultry that he liked. But it wasn’t until he enrolled at the University of Arkansas that he truly embraced his love for cock.

Tyson later recalled he could never get enough cock. Though he was partial to white cock, Tyson soon grew to crave black cock as well. And the bigger the cock the better, he said.

In 1952, he married Twilla Womochil, which coincidentally is the sound a chicken makes when you crush its skull with a steel-toed boot.

Under his leadership, the company’s revenue increased from $51 million to more than $10 billion. And that’s more money than Jesus ever made with his stable of chickens.

In 2001 the company was charged with using illegal immigrants to work in its chicken processing plants. In his defense, Tyson claimed he was just using them for “nugget filler”.

Biographers note Tyson was often compared to fellow Arkansan Sam Walton, primarily because both were huge assholes.

Tyson requested bored employees stomp, kick, and slam his remains against a wall, but not before hanging him by his feet, cutting off his nose and mockingly playing baseball with his head.