(These can be pretty tricky to figure out. They’re like optical illusions, only a bigger waste of time, so let me help: The blue arrow points to where Mary’s ubiquitous, anachronistic veil usually is. The green arrow points to where Jesus supposedly is.The red arrow points to the perfectly unbroken hymen.)

This family in New Mexico has been visited by the Virgin Mary, and gosh, it’s just so darned refreshing to see faith rewarded now and then. Even if it does require the tiniest of nudges from creative editorial stargazing.

In their marble shower is an image that they believe is of the Virgin Mary holding Jesus after he is taken down from the cross. “We built the house a couple years ago, and we have a stand in the shower and a jacuzzi tub in the master bath,” said Danell Griego, the person who discovered the figure. “We also have a hot tub right outside the master bathroom, so we had not used the tub. I decided I was going to try out the tub since it had been sitting there unused for so long. I got the water and bubbles ready, hopped in and was relaxing and decided to light a candle. When I reached over to grab the candle, right behind it was the image.”

Ooo! A two-fer! And right in time for Easter too. These miracles sure can be convenient. Mary and future zombie Jesus, right where they’re needed: a mansion in New Mexico with more bathtubs than people. There’s nothing like the cattle prod of divine protestations of existence to remind rich people that everything is going to be OK.

What I want to know is why all of these vague, blurry images always have to be Christian visitations. Just once I want someone to run to the press saying that Freddy Mercury appeared in their soap scum patterns. “I hadn’t cleaned my shower for a year, and sure enough, there was a fruity little ’70s mustache and a checkered leotard, clear as day.” Maybe it’s because only Christians are possessed of enough hubris to believe all knowing, all seeing, omnicient beings take time out to appear on their breakfasts, and aren’t tied up using their massive god-dicks to have sex with an entire dimension. I’ll start believing this stuff when a god miracles up a sketch artist to put a little detail into his visitations. Don’t you think God has heard of technicolor? He probably has a camcorder lying around too, so why does it look like a child’s finger painting of Telly Monster? Maybe he could conjure us up some words carved on the Irish Spring like, “The Buddhists were right, stop blowing each other up already.” Or drop some bagels on a starving village in Africa. Or multiply Kim Kardashian like Jesus did with the fish. Now that would be a miracle.

I jumped out of the tub and called for my husband and kids to come and see if they saw what I was seeing. They saw it immediately, all of my family and neighbors also saw it immediately.”

“At first I thought she meant the pubic bush, big-banging out of her crotch to keep her knees warm,” her husband later said. “Yeah, I saw it! I need a pith helmet and a machete just to get in bed at night. Biennial chach gardening post-marriage, that would be a miracle, am I right fellas?” Every single person saw the Virgin Mary in your marble right away? There wasn’t one dick head cousin that was like, “Eh, I don’t see anything except your saggy tits. Put some clothes on”? If you were any more full of shit, you could start your own miracle scat porn studio. “Two Girls, One Savior,” that kind of thing. Yeah, I just made a joke about pooping on the freshly executed corpse of Christ. It wasn’t even good, but what are you gonna do about it?

By definition, marble has swirly patterns on it, and you’re an asshole.

(Jeez, sorry, OK? Used to be a time when “walk it off” meant something in this country.)

What does a Catholic Priest in Wisconsin do after raping 200 deaf school children? He breaks their fingers so they can’t tell anyone.

He also gets to not go to jail, because he told God he was really really sorry, and because the Pope knew and covered it up. Here’s two links to articles concerning Vatican denials of the Pope’s involvement in pedophilia cover-ups, neither of which prove a goddamned thing other than that the Pope needs to be arrested and his castle given over for public, secular use (here and here).That first link is to LifeSiteNews, a Catholic run virtual rag that sprays uninformed and outright bullshit propaganda like a snow blower beefed up with a superconducting magnet from the LHC. Neither denial contains evidence from any sources that are not Catholics with something to gain from this going away, and therefore are more suspect than an ice cream truck driver with no ice cream. New plan: If you have to be Catholic, and send your kid to a terrifyingly inadequate Catholic school, and feel the need to take your eyes off your kid for more than five seconds, make a Bowie Knife part of their Sunday Best ensemble. Tell him, “If a priest comes within a foot of you, I want you to stab him right in the thigh. This is where the artery is.” See how fast the cops are called then. In fact, just stab priests, often and with extreme prejudice. If anyone starts sniffing around, tell them you are super repentant and you think you feel a cold coming on. Don’t worry, you don’t have to mean it, your word will probably be enough.

Oh, and check out this poor sonofabitch in China:

To be fair, you shave your head like that, honeydew lovers everywhere are going to want a piece of you.

Holy mother of Popeil! Chef Tony just moved his operation up to Defcon Not Fucking Around, and gave the finger to the international community to show where he stands. Seriously, though. What did the little Chinese guy do to deserve a stainless steel, wall-to-wall head redecoration? Did he bang another guy’s wife? Steal a couple million fish from the Screw It Let’s Leave the Head On factory?

An argument between Counter-Strike players at a Chinese net café over suspected use of a ‘wallhack’ cheat led to a 17-year-old boy being stabbed through the head with a foot-long knife – and living to tell the tale.

Oh, well then give the assailant a pardon. This ain’t no Dr. Mario, this is war. The only thing this guy should be sorry for is not being able to actually kill the rat bastard by stabbing him clear through the head. When asked why he sucked so much dick at murderin’, the defendant said, “The little prick cheated,” but that’s his excuse for everything.

Finally, you’ve heard about the cripple heckling protesters of the recently passed health care bill engaged in, right? Everyone present had a doctorate in Scumbaggery, and a black belt in hating sick people. Giants in their field. The dude who loudly berated a man that sat there, having Michael J. Fox disease right in front of him without so much as an apology, is feeling really sorry he got caught. “I wanted this to go away, but it won’t and I’m paying the consequences,” Reichert said. (Columbus Dispatch) He said he and his family are scared, since everyone in the free world saw him belittlingly tossing dollar bills at a gimp and the general consensus is that the world would be better off without him. But Reichert is wrong: HE’s scared someone will be indignant enough to put him in a wheelchair to see what it’s like. His family is scared they’ll get a cold and have to spend the weekend in the shame cage out in the middle of the frozen lake.

(Gary was, to say the least, put off when he learned that, even though the booze was now in pill form, he would still be considered “beer bitch” and would have to wear the hat for the remainder of the drinking game.)

I dare you to tell me this is a bad idea. ”Evgeny Moskalev of Saint Petersburgh Technological University created… a technique that turns alcohol into powder for packaging in pill form.” Oh. Hell. Yes. Leave it to the Russians to find a new way to get hammered. You would too if you lived in some crazy combination of communist police state, democracy, and a college campus. Also, they have that Siberia thing.

What they’re saying is that booze now comes in pill form, killing the carb load and portable innefficiency of bottled beers and liquors, and giving us all new ways to party… not to mention prank. Slip one of these bad boys into your grandmother’s pill box and you’ll be drawing dicks on her face for passing out with her orthopedics on in no time! College kids are off the hook now too, provided they can show a modicum of not-retardedness. Can’t get busted for carrying a bottle of Advil like you can for a 30 rack of Natty Ice. Beer Pong will be harder, sure, but we’ve all got to make sacrifices.  

Most importantly, there is a benefit for myself. The advent of this wonderful technology will finally do away with one of my personal pet peeves: the breaking of the seal. Hearing somebody mention this fictional phenominon grates my ears like nails down Bobcat Goldthwait’s back. If you have to piss, you have to piss, and no amount of holding it in will make it happen less. Drinking less will, but since that wasn’t an option for us crazy cats, we’ve had to settle for hitting the head every 20 minutes. Now that I’m not drinking to get drunk, but rather doing bumps of it off of strippers’ asses, the worst I’ll have to do is blow my nose, and never have to hear anybody warn me “Don’t break the seal!” again. Turns out you go to jail for breaking peoples’ noses, even if they’re annoying twats.

Another pet peeve of mine that gets solved in this bold future? Bosses telling me my breath smells like liquor, “and a little bit of paste.” Now, all they’ll be smellin’ is grade A Elmer’s horse bones, mofo.

“Just takin’ my vitamins, sir.” Seriously, could this day have come fast enough?