Compare Yerself to Jesus!

Whether you believe Jesus was the son of a living God, a king of the Jews, fictional, or whatnot you can still compare yourself to Jesus.  Like Crumby once grew his hair long, then compared himself to the many pictures of Jesus sporting long hair.   Is Jesus still depicted as a long hair by the artistes?  Ray, used to wear a beard.  So same difference, Ray could easily compare his beard to the many artistic conceptions of  Jesus' beard.  Karl the Tracker Druid allows that he once washed a whore's feet.  Or the whore washed Karl's  feet.  One or the other.  That's Jesus like, either way. 

So yes,  Compare yourself to Jesus.  Like Crumby was comparing himself to Jesus this morning after he got spooked by the eerie silence during the customary morning dog walk.   Mercy!  Another dry norther was fixing to blow through  as that ominous dog walk progressed.  But the wind at ground level had not shifted yet so the wind noise was not a factor.  And it was early, so all the Christmas Eve revelers were still abed and the traffic noise was abated.  Even the birds were stilled.  Jeez Louise, thought Crumby.  This is creeping me out. 

In the uncharacteristic (for Stinky Valley) quiet, Crumby grew afraid.  Yes.  Crumby grew fearful.  And when Crumby grows or waxes fearful, Crumby compares himself to Jesus.

OK.  I really hate sandals.  Did  I cleanse a leper lately or ever?  Did I, uh, do any of those doctoring like miracles.  No.   Dang.  Well.  I once built a picnic table out of wood.  That's like, carpentry.  Yes.  And I havn't killed anybody recently.  Which is Jesus like. I'm there, dude, with Jesus.

After comparing himself to Jesus, Crumby felt better.  I shall continue this walk, with only a dog for company, despite the terrible silence that crowds about, hedging me in.  But then, gradually,  Crumby's ears perked as the wind shifted and the familiar tire whine on Hwy. 290/71 became audible.  Yes.  The motorists have survived another Christmas Eve.  There they go, zooming along.