Jesus Wants to Keep Birthday Small This Year

avior of millions Jesus Christ told friends and loved ones this year he would rather keep his birthday low-key rather than make a big deal out of it.

“I mean, I’m not embarrassed about turning 2031 or anything this year. Nothing like that,� stated our Lord, “but you know, I’m just not in the mood to have everybody get together for this huge thing. I just want to celebrate in a small way, you know? A small dinner or something.�

Some report Jesus has been feeling a little Christmas depression, as bills mount and all the stress of visiting relatives and millions of friends asking favors adds up. Jesus initially wanted to spend his birthday in the Bahamas, but the trip fell through as God laid a guilt trip on him about spending time with His only son.

“Of course I want to spend time with my dad,� said Jesus, “it’s just that I thought I could do something a little crazy and out there for my birthday this year. Just hang with some friends on the beach, go wild, turn the whole ocean into wine if I wanted. Now I got this thing with dad hanging over me. Like I needed that.�

All in all, stated Christ, it hasn’t been a bad year for him.

“Yeah, I was outraged about the terrorism and such, but I have to admit a small part of me was like, ‘Whew! Glad they’re not using my name at all.’ I’m still waiting for some anti-abortion nutjob to start blowing up places or killing people. It’s like, “Thanks, really, but all you needed to get me was a K-Mart sweater or something, jerk.’�

When asked if he planned on returning any time soon for Judgment Day, Jesus rolled his eyes and shook his head furiously.

“That’s the last thing I need to worry about at this point. I’ve had enough pains in the ass lately without worrying about that craziness toward the end of the year. Don’t be in such a rush. When it happens, it happens. I just hope I get a little time off before then.�

At press time, though Jesus was unaware, friend Judas was organizing a small get-together at Chi-Chi’s with many of Jesus friends, where they would all enjoy a supper.

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Exhibit A:
Hair rockers with a conscience Extreme's 1990 hit "More Than Words"

Lasting Cultural Impact:
Joy, hope, and black nail polish for the masses.

Separated at Birth:
Anything by the Everly Brothers.

Verdict:
Extreme-ly moving.

Lyric Sample:
Saying I love you
Is not the words I want to hear from you
It's not that I want you
Not to say, but if you only knew
How easy it would be to show me how you feel
More than words is all you have to do to make it real
Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me
Cos I'd already know


Analysis:
If you're anything like me, this has to be one of your all-time favorite records and without doubt one of the enduring songs of the modern age. Long after fads like Schubert and Rachmaninoff have been justly forgotten to the sands of time, future historians will still be debating the everlasting impact of Extreme. Their flame burnt all too briefly, it is true, but with a piercing brightness that can only be compared to that of the earth's very genesis.

Standing out even more absurdly when surrounded by the superficial garbage being released in its day, trashy CDs even pressed on cheap and nasty plastic with cases that would not close completely, Extreme's entire Extreme II: Pornograffitti album was a rare treasure that made the year 1990 seem even more like it were only a blissful dream.

Those wishing to lend a guiding hand to today's aspiring songwriters – or if you yourself would like to be an aspiring songwriter! – should take this album as their own personal bible. Don't just listen to it—fools! Study it, and feel your music muscles grow. Live with it, and as the years pass by it will reveal its secrets to you, like a highly-secretive woman.

The album's signature track, "More than Words," was an experiment. And it was wildly successful. Extreme gambled that the record-buying public was ready for a break from their normal punishing hair-metal sound, and the result served as an elegant baroque turn that caught the public completely off-guard, like a sucker-punch in the shower. Somewhat to my relief, the rest of the album still rocked in customary Extreme fashion. But "More than Words," this was a special moment indeed. A quiet moment of reflection at the pinnacle of rock, climbed by intrepid glam-fags bent on discovering the truth at life's very core.

What would you do if my heart was torn in two
More than words to show you feel
That your love for me is real
What would you say if I took those words away
Then you couldn't make things new
Just by saying I love you


Lead singer and band hair consultant Gary Cherone lent his vocal talents and remarkable coif to this beautiful ballad, adding textured layers of meaning to guitar virtuoso and band soul-possessor Nuno Bettencourt's breathtaking composition. The intricate game of chess that exists between Cherone's vocal phrasings and Bettencourt's smoldering acoustic strumming cannot be fully explored even in twelve thesis papers—believe me, I have tried. Suffice it to say that even the song's beautifully clear and supple lyrics, legendary in their own right and unmatched by any Dylan Thomas scribblings or Wordsworthian drivel, are only but a pale refection of the true genius residing in this song's musical structure.

More than words
Now I've tried to talk to you and make you understand
All you have to do is close your eyes
And just reach out your hands and touch me
Hold me close don't ever let me go
More than words is all I ever needed you to show
Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me
Cos I'd already know


This verse in particular highlights Bettencourt's wonderful sense of humor. He'd already know? Indeed. Many listeners miss this subtlety due to their sense of mesmerized awe over Nuno's vividly realized landscapes of sound.

What would you do if my heart was torn in two
More than words to show you feel
That your love for me is real
What would you say if I took those words away
Then you couldn't make things new
Just by saying I love you


Few with ears can avoid being drawn into this song's intense lyrical beauty, or its equally moving outbursts of extreme brutality and obscenity, vital organs being torn asunder by that cruel mistress that is true love! Like all of us, Bettencourt is trapped: trapped in the universe - and trapped in a body. Like us graceless mortals, too, he desires happiness and is averse to suffering. In this song, he is experiencing the agony of incarnation, the agony of being in a body. Nuno suffers from heat, cold, thirst, hunger, fear, desire, confusion, frustration, loss, pain, injury, terror, and ultimately death, all laid bare for our benefit within the course of a heart-stopping four minutes of pop heaven. Are you listening, Mozart? Perhaps if you'd lived a bit longer, you could have learned a thing or two about music.

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Dr. Joyce Pickles, M.D.P.S.T., received her degree in psychology from U.S. Zoological College in Burnt Harbor, Maine. We're not quite sure why she chooses to contribute to the commune, she's either a fan of the site or she believed us when we said we were calling from The New Yorker.

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Ned's time on the moon been written about in many the book and popular song, including "Mr. Moonlight" and "Moonchild," but none of them done quite got it right. Nope indeed, all them popular tales go heavy on the heroics and light on them dachshunds. Ned's here once and for never to set them stories right.

True enough, Nedro did travel to them moon in the month of Smogust in 1944.3, climbing up that big green ladder been left there by them homesick astronauts. Ned gone up there for see who left them nightlight on, keepin' Ned up all night with so much glowin' and keepin' the nighttime so bright. Leave it to them governments to flip off the sun switch straight right, but forget and leaving them moonlight on all night like we was childrens a-scairt of the dark. So Ned done climbed right up to do hisself a public service.

But what was Ned to find moonward but Ugly McUgly, big fella lived up to his name all too well, tossin' and turnin' up there in his lumpy moon bed and feelin' sicker than a jellyfish in a peanut butter factory. Ned marched right up and said "Hullo, Ugly!" without knowin' that be his right Christian name. Lucky for Neddums it was to be. McUgly took a powerful liking to Nedmiller right from the start, on account of Ned knowin' his name and greetin' him so polite and so.

Ugly McUgly told Ned about buildin' them moon outta space dandruff as his own personals apartment, and a-flyin' it over the earth to keep an eye on Africa, which bores a sure-fire resemblance to his ol' first wife, who done left him for Asia minor. Back then, 'course, them moons was lush with pink forests and rivers of diet cola 'nuff to make a tooth ache all by itself on a dinner plate. Right nice place to live. But McUgly done got so obsessed with tryin' to piss on Poland from up on that there moon, whole place done gone straight to gray-tone hell. Dust bunnies takin' over and a-nibblin' on the furniture, cobweb clouds gummin' up them skies, and whole place gone dusty like the crack of a Texas baby's behind. McUgly himself catches them dust fever, and spend his days an' nights tossin' and a-turnin' in his big-ole lumpy moon bed.

Ned try all sorta remedy to make McUgly well agains, includin' wrappin' up a whole herd of them moon gazelles in a pita sandwich topped with sauce from the moon's only tartar. No dice, Jerry Rice. Nedful also done try straining them whole moons through a funnel and make a smoothie from moon juice, but that shake been too thick to draw even through special .50 caliber straws, no lie. Even Moon Asprin, dug from them Asprin Valley up there on the moon's dark side fulla fields of pills, even that genius cracker of an idea done no good for McUgly and his powerful ill funk.

Nedly gotta go for plan B, and so him done yank out the cord reachin' from the back of them moons all them ways acrosst over to the only power socket in them sky, and right quick them whole shebang goes darker than a politician's soul like lickety splat. Ugly McUgly not too keen on plan B and Ned hasta make haste down the moon ladder like he was late to get his teeth frosted. Hand over foot over head under ankle, Ned raced down that ladder like falling but with more grabbin' and scramblin'. Ugly McUgly been right on the heels of Ned, on account of him trippin' over the moon in the dark and fallin' off like a cripple in a wheelchair spillin' off a horse.

Ned beat McUgly to the ground by just a nibble of a second, but Ugly beat Ned to the underground by a lot. Not many a mans done dug his own grave, let alone with his own misfortunate face, but Ugly McUgly done broke offa hunk of that honor all for hisself.

And wouldn't you know what? Them government boohobs done got right back up and plugged that moons back in them very next night. So much for shuteye, says Ned. And them's the story of how come Ned sleeps in them diving suit at nighttimes, childrens.

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