The Awful Truth: Angels and Dementia

      

 

I guess once again it's time for Jack to expose the evils of the Catholic Church. Now granted, any reasonable person would hold some skepticism about the nature of a monolithic institution that's millennial old. So Jack's going to have to find a way to make it as unreasonable as possible. I mean, if it isn't as off-the-wall batshit and unfounded as possible, he may be mistaken for one of those Da Vinci Code heathens. So let's take a look at conspiracies so absolutely arbitrary and convoluted, that nobody will accuse him of being a secular humanist.

The Walking Dead: Pray Away the Zed Word

It's getting close to Halloween, and for someone who thinks the Holiday is one big orgy of depravity, Jack Chick, like a well-oiled machine, gets into the season like your weird aunt. This year, the festivities concentrate of the dead who walk. Zombies, what a horrifying thing they are. They march, mindlessly and sexlessly, with a dull glaze in their eyes. They move in unison, with one single purpose; To find the lonely, scared, and isolated and add them to their ranks. Can you just imagine something so terrible? Something that hopeless. I'm sure this tract will tell us exactly how to avoid that kind of fate.

It's a mistake to think that, as wake of zombiedom that is mankind, God will  be the Sheriff Grimes a stern but fair protector. No God is more like a Daryl Dixon, a half-crazed maniac that will gleefully axe us with his mighty thunderbolt, ed nearing himself to everyone despite his violent temper and almost sociopathic treatment of people. So embark on this journey, this black and white sequential art even more horrifying than Robert Kirkman's. Because that's the guy who made the comic Walking Dead was based on. Didn't know it was based on a comic, did you? Wild.

 A very frightened man is hiding in the bushes, asking why his ghastly pursuer has turned sentry, and is not, at all, moving. Far be it from me to be the type to answer rhetorical questions, but zombies are not the most expedient of monsters. They're the "sit and wait" representatives of the underworld, a sort of (barely) walking statement on how, when you're dead, you've all the time in the world. But it looks like an entire assortment of Hellions is in hot pursuit. You have the Wolfman, Freddy Kruger, a witch, and...who's that guy in the middle? He looks the ghost of a redneck who falsely claims worker's comp.

 Notice that little mouse in the corner who looks just like Mickey Mouse! Poor Mickey, he is so going to get eaten by whatever monster happens along. But I can't blame him for having to check out that tombstone right there, that labels the dearly departed simply as "Mama". To say nothing of the picture which seems to be less an engraving, and more a photograph simply tacked on to the headstone. It's perhaps a wonder she has anything to mark her body and time on earth at all. I take it whoever buried her (after The Home was done with her, of course) must have seriously been considering embezzling the funeral expenses for a rager, or to cover gambling debts. As frightened as our hero is of being assimilated by the monstrous, I don't think it would be so bad. Between you and me bro...I'm thinking it might even be an improvement.

"The Last Grave"...that sounds like...well, it's not irony. Its not redundant. Man, I'm stumped for literary terms. In the meantime, I just wonder what "the last grave" is? Because most graveyards aren't done linearly, they're more like a grid formation, if anything. And gravekeepers tend not to plan the whole thing like a video game level, in case of being chased. It's not the tombstones you should mark as the home base, but rather the fence that surrounds all graveyards. Once you get past the gate (which at this hour is most likely locked), then you're something resembling home free. 

 So much for crawling! Can't win for losing, one supposes. On the other hand, isn't it nice that, as soon as the By the way, the comic explicitly states this as "The Walking Dead", but werewolves aren't undeads. They're perfectly alive demonic creatures. Is he there for P.R. purposes. Because becoming a zombie is a just plain awful fate, but more people would sign up for the Legions of Hell if they got to be werewolves. There's no rotting and shambling there, just shedding. But like I said, inclusive. We are famileeeee. Everybody get up and scream.

Oh! It turns out it was all a dream. So that means that we're not getting a zombie apocalypse at all. Does this mean the promise of tying this into a show about sheriffs mowing down undeads was done under...*gasp*..false pretenses. You're on a slippery slope, Jack. To be honest, I don't know why we can't have gotten any zombies. I mean, there are demons, witches, and gay pride parades sanctioned by the Catholic Church. The Mythical was already part ad parcel, what's another shambling revenant added to the car pile of the impossible?

 So it turns out the world's biggest scaredy-cat is, what the tattoos are telling, normally a bit of a hardass. You know, who lives with his aunt and uncle. "You ARE part of the walking dead." That seems pretty rude, (Even Aunt Emily seems to think he's gone beyond the pale) but to be honest, it does sound like it'd be pretty decent code word for "Get a job." Because Danny has got to be pushing 35 at least. Maybe 30 if his wild and crazy lifestyle has aged him a bit, and it probably has. I don't know whether the uncle is worried for Danny's soul, or worried for his stores of potato chips and cereal.

Dead as a doornail. Dead as a doornail. How are you going to convert the masses if you're saddled with such a Biff Tannen-esque grap of idioms? Hell, doorknobs are probably very alive, metaphorically. We haven't all converted to the automatic doors found in supermarkets. Danny does have a point. "I just had an awful night, and then you just started shit-talking me." I'm surprised the guy didn't start making him feel ashamed for any prison rape that might have happened to him.

God was trying to warn Danny, in his dream. Well, even though that dream lasted all of a minute, it was filled with contradictions, plot-holes, and patches from other works. I guess that proves he did write the Bible. So the guy fibbed his way into parole? Is this specifically targeting Jack's core audience of ex-cons that sign onto team God to cover up their horrible, horrible misdeeds. "Okay, you little rascals. I've been hearing that some of you don't mean it when you say that you're saved , and then you proceed to murder hookers. So I just want to make it clear that you really, really mean it that you're born again."

 

If Evangelical Christianity goes "over your head" son, that's probably the very image of "hopeless". I mean, you can't understand evolution, but you can't understand people being formed from earth in seven days. There's not much more society can do for helping you around being a dumbass.

 What's the difference between "soul" and spirit anyways? I mean, is the latter God's holy and inherent need to participate at pep rallies? That would explain why High School football is so big in the Bible Belt. Ah, to have the mysteries of the universe unfolded. I do think God should have set up more rules. In a weirder way, it's easier to follow multiple rules because you can't choose which one to break. But one, one tantalizing rule, it just makes you wonder what the whole deal is. I suspect the whole thing was a trap, and God invented reverse psychology. But as we all know, Adam got Frank Darabounted the hell out of there.

I kind of wonder...is the strip enlightened for putting the whole thing on Adam's shoulders, instead of tempting Eve as the tempting hose-beast who screwed us all...or is it extra backwards because Eve is not mentioned in any context whatsoever? I always had trouble figuring out how all of humanity could have sprung from one couple, but there "It was just Adam, just him" theory is probably even weirder. When he was cast out of the Garden, how did he go about begetting? An armadillo here, a duck there, maybe a juniper to broaden the horizons. Hey, he's Earth's most eligible bachelor, he can do what he wants. Okay, Uncle John is certainly being the usual missionary dick, but I do wonder if you really have as good a heart as you're professing, my man. I mean, you served hard time. You're out on parole. You have a mustache and smile that screams "Legally mandated to stay fifty feet from." Your tattoos have tattoos. And of course, you mooch off your relatives. What's his "good heart"? That when he and his friends all hang out and trash the place, he makes sure to tell them not to steal/defile Aunt Emily's wedding dress?

Actually Jack, the heart is the source of blood-pumping respiration. It's the source of breathing and fighting off disease with blood cells. It doesn't cause fornications, that's our dicks. It's our dicks, Jack. Though I'm kind of now aroused by the prospect of a "heart job". Danny doesn't know what a soul is? At all? I know the tats scream "Aryan Nation", but I can't believe he spent all the decades of his life thinking "soul" as a thing white people do not have or need. How was he even able to hoodwink the clink into releasing him under the pretenses finding God? "Guys, it's a miracle! I'm saved! I feel in the depths of my tingly God-thingy. You know, the thing with the gold ring-thingy above my head. I feel it there."

Okay,I'm pretty sure this guy is talking out of his soul's ass, right here. For one thing, if the dude is having such a hard time grasping the concept of "souls", the very least you can do to answer that questions is along the lines of of "A little, but it's more complex and not nearly as creepy." Also, I'm pretty sure the point of a soul is it transcends such bodily concepts. But does sound pretty swanky that it comes with a white robe. I mean, our earthly bodies don't come with that. We come out naked. Which is probably why we're all such sinful creatures. If only God thought to whip up tiny white robes in the uterus, we probably wouldn't nearly be in the trouble we are now.

That man descending into the depths of Hell is naked. Naked! Where's his robe? Did it fall off during the fall? Worse, loosest robe ever. I'm really surprised how much the story presents the afterlife in such...corporeal terms. I've heard of bible literalism before, but this is literally the most superficial interpretation of Jesus's teachings I've ever seen. It's almost like it's there to counter the whole "Hell isn't so bad, I like it where it's warm" snarking. "Oh no, it sucks. because everything is solid and it's just like the Bugs Bunny cartoons. Which by the way, you're going to hell for because you watch them."

                                   

Oh, I see, we're all zombies because we don't have the light of God is in us. Well, if that's the case, I demand me some brains, right now. With spaghetti, in a pie, I don't care. I want muh brains. What's with that zombie on the far right? Is she the reanimated Cathy of syndicated newspaper comic strip "Cathy"? It's so devastating to know that even the sweet peace of eternal rest is denied her, and she has to walk the earth, as neurotic as ever. AAAAGHHHHHHH.

Who's the black-hooded fellow JC is meeting with? It's like they're out having a secret Baptism, by night. Scandalous! Danny is very, very nervous, which can possibly leave to salvation, but it can possibly also lead him to fall off the wagon and start doing (and selling!) smack again. Oh well, collateral damage.

I wonder how Jesus being sent to Earth would condemn it in the first place. "I am the Lord, thy God, and bring unto you...Cinemax. Heh. Heh. Heh." Did that guy just punch Jesus, while he's carrying the cross? He, didn't he? He just pulled a sucker punch on the son of God, the King of Kings. I can't be too impressed, because he's walking possibly very slowly and can't see from the blood in his eyes, so it's totally a punk move.

Whoa, that image is grisly. I wonder if Jack just heard about this little movie a certain guy named Mel Gibson made, and thought "All the blood and gore that God intended!" Because that nail going into Christ's wrist? That's an artery. It's just squirting around. This is the kind of thing me and my friends would draw as kids, if we knew how arteries worked. But this is just Italian horror film stuff, right here."It is finished" is a little on the nose for last words, though. That's like "With my last breath, I die."

It's the greatest story ever told because it's true. I'm not sure I can fully sign on to that train of logic. I mean, I think the Doctor Zhivago is an inherently more interesting story than the story about how I chose what to eat for dinner. But I suppose that's the reasoning for creationism, as floods and thunderbolts make for a riveting tale than fish slowly growing legs.  Although I disagree, the first  Rhipidistia to stalk the land were pretty badass.

See, that arrow helpfully points out where the soul is. It's in the person!  Not in the floor, next to the person. Not in a cloud, remote-controlling the person. It's in the person! Danny is really starting to turn around to the whole Godly thing, and his uncle is sweetening the deal with mansions! I mean, the truly pious will truly be beyond such things once you ascend to the hereafter. I'm sure Heaven is just a whole bunch of people saying "Oh I don't need this silly old mansion, why don't you have it." "Don't be ridiculous, I don't need it, in fact, why don't you have mine?" "No, you have mine." "No, you." "No, you." It just goes on like that. Hell for the company, indeed.

  

Wait, so was that grave-loitering pack of horrors a dream, or not? And i any case, what are zombies doing around in Hell? But I like to think that Jack gave each of these guys little backstories. The bald zombie is Gary. He was unmarried pawn shop worker who nobody could prove needed to stay away from children, but parents felt comfortable telling them to stay away nonetheless. The lady on the far right is Sabrina. She was totally into Witchcraft, until she used all her teeth but one to do a summoning spell, but the only summoning that happened was her to Hades! Oh, and also the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. Anyways, we finish things off with a look at...I think that's a skyscraper? Only, it's already in the sky, so it would be an ozone scraper? Way to give us skin cancer, Heavenly Hosts. Forget about Walking Dead, we're gonna live the post-apocalyptic scenario of Wateroworld. Now there's a scenario that's truly frightening.

Mean Momma: Book of Jobbing

               

    

It's a scary world. Sometimes, in order to face our fears, we put up a defense mechanism. Act the part of the tough guy. But it's all a futile effort, because there is no tougher guy than God. Fists are nothing against the boulders he may or may not be able to make so heavy he can't lift. A broken bottle is naught against the power of thunderbolts, or the slow decay of entropy. When he asks you to say uncle, you shout "Yes Sir, Uncle God, may I have another." This is a story about a woman who thought she could out-bully the original bully, out-gangster the original gangster, out-asshole the original ass-hole. This is a story of humility and the vast, vast collateral damage it took to teach her a lesson.         

That's Baphomet? Goatse-rmonizing

I wouldn't want to be part of any club that would have me as a member. For some though, their criteria for joining organizations are less based on self-loathing, and more based on not trafficking in the realms of darkness. The Freemasons are one of the oldest, most mysterious, and some say powerful secret societies throughout history. History Channel keeps telling me they're the architects of this country. The Simpsons tell me they disbanded to form the "No Homers Club." It's hard to really know what they're all about. Luckily, one man knows what their deal is. One man can cut through the shroud of mystery, and bring their dark dealings to light. A man who knows a little thing himself about being reclusive and weaving substantial webs of total bullshit.

Still No Revival? Lowest Common Damnator

Ah, sequels. Sometimes they build up on the original. Sometimes they dissapoint. Sometimes they're pretty hollow cash-ins. ANd sometimes, sometimes they just exist because the makers of the original want to remind you, "Hey guys, still here. You remember? Like this? Remember?" This is one of those sequels. Better yet, it's a sequel to a story about something not happening. And this follow-up is about...that stuff still not happening. Gutsy move.

              

Univited: Queer as Folklore

 

We often fear what we don't understand. And that is a very, very good thing, because if we were meant to understand it, it would be written down in the King James Bible and that would be that. But the uncivillized corners of the world houses eerie, maelevolent sports that wish to undermine all that it is good in the world. Wish to undermine it in the butt. That's right, today we're going to be talking about homosexuals. The gay community constantly tells us it's not a choice.Well it isn't. It's actually the result of demonic possession. There is a choice to be found in such dire straits, however. Just correctly answer the yes-and-no-question of "Jesus".

                                 

You Have a Date! The Real Housewives of Perdition

We in this country aspire to wealth, contentment, and the pursuit of getting busy. But when we're asked to the prom by God himself, we'd better not say we need to wash our hair. God isn't taking rejection. God isn't seeing other people. You are going to the prom him. You can't even change your number. The master of the heavens will star 69 you with actual stars. Just get in the card, and hope he's at least willing to go Dutch.

Here, Kitty Kitty! There's More Than One Way...

This year, Jack has taken time away from telling us outright Halloween is the Devil's Holiday, and merely implies it. After all, we all love kittens right? Well, it seems Halloween has the highest statistics for needless kitten-killing. At least in whatever town Charlie Brown grew up in. And the wrong side of the tracks of that nameless burger. But the point is, it's bad enough our children (And by that I mean the blanket "our". I never sired no child, and you can't prove it!) are getting their tongues slashed by razor blades! No they have to take the slashing to helpless young felines in order to gain unholy boons. And to what ill-conceived end to they seek such mystic forces?

                                               

The Missing Day: When Dinner's Not Awkward Enough

             

  

In time for Thanksgiving, Jack reminds us that it isn‘t just a chance to join family and friends and enjoy good food, but that it‘s a God-Given occasion, and we should always remember its foundations as a feast enjoyed by hateful paranoid religious fanatics who would quickly turn on themselves as quickly as they could. Really. What could be a greater slap in the face to Darwinists than a story about completely displaced nut jobs manning to thrive and outnumber a group of indigenous people clearly far better equipped to survive their environs.

Jesus shed something for us, and it wasn’t cranberry sauce, folks! It’s time to be thankful you’re still alive, and thus were able to read this important, life-altering tract! And bow your heads for the Pilgrims, the first bible-thumpers ever!

Happy Halloween: Next Year, a Brighter Costume

   

While other Halloween-themed Tracts denounce Halloween as a pagan ritual practiced by the soulless and bloodthirsty, here, Halloween only serves as an indirect demolisher of salvation, and merely an unwitting device of Stan's claiming us for its own. We don't see any candy apple blood sacrifices or the red guy blowing out birthday candles, but we do see the celebration of All Hallow's Eve as something that makes the devil's afterlife much easier.

See, sometimes Halloween makes us forget the most important thing of all. That no matter how good we try to be, we’re still for crap, and the only way to escape from the horrific images we celebrate on October 31st is to bend down over and admit. Because let’s face, it things get too scary in Hell, there’s no light switch.

  

The Wall: Checkered Flags and Yellow Fever

 

Chick's newest tract! As we all strive to be the best, we must remember; no one is better than God. He is the Grand Prix referee, who has marked the ultimate finish line. We will all eventually get there, and every one of us has a chance to win a prize of eternal salvation…save those who go astray, and find themselves burning in Hellfire after hitting…the wall. Can our two protagonists, despite being strong competitors out to be the best, mutually share a special kind of cup--The Jesus Class Cup?

Love is a wonderful thing. But sometimes dangerous. Here now is the story of how lust for victory, and lust for lust, can take everything you‘ve worked for and throw it off course. Here is a cautionary tale how dangerous love can be. Just be warned, you might want to come back to reading the tract an hour after you read it.

    

What's Wrong With This? American Graven Idols

                   

It's an amazing world we live in. From so many different regions and creeds, different civilizations and societies formed. We spend so much time in our own routines and daily life, it never occurs to us what kind of diversity and flavor this planet is filled to the brim with. And how wrong, wrong wrong it all is. Ancestors? Elephants? Afterlives? Come on, that's all phooey and you know it. It's obvious the many different continents of the world have far too much pepper in their chili, and it's our job to water it right down.

Come take a walk through the art gallery, but keep in mind, the Word of God isn't subjective, and he's a lot more tempestuous than Vincent Van Gough, and he'll be the one critiquing you.

     

Angels? Knight's in Lew's Service

 

This is an old favorite with many fans. In fact, it may be Chick's single most epic story ever. It's got everything; good, evil, love, betrayal, death, fortunes rising and falling. It peers into the human soul, and pulls its worst components out like a tumor. It, in a word, rocks.

Now, we all know Rock and Roll is the Devil's music. However, did you know so-called Christian Rock is twice as bad? Because that's how they get you. So remember Godly folks of their world, if you ever see someone using their gifts to help others become more devout, don't trust them. Shun them, so they'll all become scraps of society with ruined lives, who'll throw down with anyone for the right to eat. It's what Jesus would do.

Last Rites: Take That, Wafer Suckers!

Congratulations to our new pope, Mister Ratzinger! I'm sure you'll be the right man for the job, and I'm not just saying that because you look like you'll bite my eyes out if I disagree! But that's okay, his name reminds me of the mailman from Cheers! That's a good thing! Let's celebrate your inauguration with an old favorite from the Chick Library, concerning one of his consummate targets; The Catholic Church.

There's a joke that a girl in Catholic School was asked by the nun what she wanted to be when she grew up. The girl responded her intention was to one day be a prostitute. The nun quickly fainted, and upon being revived asked the girl one more time, what she wanted to be when she grew up. She repeated "a prostitute." "Oh", sighed the nun, "I thought you said protestant." Bad blood has run deep between the two for years, (with other creeds serving as unfortunate scapegoats caught in the crossfire) and the ultimate evangelical counter-conformist, seethes with hatred at the Old Establishment.  

Something In Common? We're All Going to Hell!

I think the moral of the story is the bond of togetherness we all share, but Chick obviously can't help but drive it into a divisive cesspool of judgmental indignation and knee jerk bitching.


If the strip is about the nature of sin and religion, why is that dog there? I mean, I love dogs, but I've always been led to believe they're spiritual cul de sacs? Why include them in a discussion over our immortal souls? That woman sure doesn't seem to be very happy sleeping next to her husband. It's an attempt at humor, sure, but I've noticed, for such a stickler of family values, you don't see a lot of happy marriages in Chick Tracts. Unless the man used to beat the woman, of course.

If we all don't have growing old in common, then don't say we do and backtrack! We're already two pages in and your entire plot, such as it is, falls apart Jack! I don't like the way that geezer is grabbing the woman, though. Makes me uncomfortable. I feel bad for the corpse the next panel over. His or her family couldn't or wouldn't even afford a name or anything. They just sprang for the standard "R.I.P."

They're not my real parents?! No! It's not true! Imagine the TV Movie that came out of this;

"I love you. I'll always consider you my family. But I have to back to my roots!"
"skwawck! skwauwkk!"
"No one can ever replace you! But I need to know who I am!"
*throws feces!*
"I knew you'd take it like this!

They really do seem like a loving couple though, don't they? Genuinely caring. Not like that "we're the only two people on Earth" marriage of convenience that is Adam and Eve. Look at them, so disingenuously posing for the camera, like any of your celebrity couples.



That's a tall glass of water we see reaching to the surface there. The flood has to have reached a good dozen fathoms at the very least. That guy may have been a dirty sinner, but we'll need him in this brave new world. Being true to the word of God is nice and everything, but what happens when you need something on the top shelf? You think Noah's going to help you with that? He's too busy with the arks.

What happens when the Pope, Queen Elizabeth, Samuel L. Jackson, the Dhami Lama, Osama Bin Laden, General Mao, Jesse James and hundreds of others, displaced in time, trapped on a large boat for forty days and forty nights stop being polite and start being real?


I just can't stop laughing at the guy who clearly enjoys that woman's suffering. There's a whole story behind this, I just know it. "The Adventures of Ron Morgan, the World's Biggest Dick." "You'd better not get upset, because that's just what he's wants! Your sadness is his oyster!" I kind of want to know the story behind the dude who just punched his bathroom mirror! "Argh! I'm out of shaving cream! And it's all your fault, Medicine Cabinet! What's that? No backtalk from you, even if you are a handsome fellow!"

Turns out we caught sin from Adam! And I thought he looked like such a clean fellow when I let him have a sip of my gatorade. Actually, he may not have sin at all. I think God's bad cop routine and the Heavenly spotlight simply got a confession from him out of duress.


Were Adam and Even simply forbidden from eating the fruit, or food in general? Look at what sloppy eaters they are too. Seriously. It can't be because the fruit looks good. It simply doesn't. If I were to call those fruits something, it'd be "mumps". They look like infected cocks. That poor guy, God is his own bouncer. "I swear Big G, I'm not trying to enter Heaven, I just need to use the bathroom."

There's one guy on that Perdition-bound arrow that's taking it pretty easy. I like his attitude. You're not going to Hell any slower, just enjoy the ride. I'm going to take all my suit jackets and get "There's only one way" emblazoned on the sleeves. That's just a sharp look. That arm may be disembodied, but it's dressed to the nine's. By the way, you notice it's the third panel in the row trying to use slang? "Are you a bad enough dude to accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?"


Holy Cosmic Phenomenon Batman! Surrounding our earth is one big giant cloud. Not an oort cloud, or a dust of clouds from meteorite dust. No, the regular puffy cloud. That our satellites never noticed. And where is our moon?! It's gone! Lord, your massive cosmic diagram arrow has shattered the satellite that keeps our landmasses from being obliterated by tidal waves! Our moon, oh our moon! Mary is chosen as the Lord's vessel, and let me tell you, does she look thrilled at the prospect. You'd think God could wait until Prozac was invented until he decided to bestow us with the messiah. I see a future of wire coat-hangers and pulling Mommy's head out of the shitbucket every Monday morning for little J.C.


One would think it too obvious to suggest God came upon Mary, and a child was conceived is a double entendre. But just look at that light Mary is basking in. Tell me that doesn't look like what it sounds like: The Almighty giving young Mary a huge, Godly money shot. She's bending over for it and everything. Thanks Mary, the drachmas are on the dresser. God paid extra 'cuz you're a virgin. Our next panel explains that Jesus's blood is God's blood. God's an all-powerful deity. He doesn't have blood. At least that's what he told me when I called him up for the blood drive. God, if you're afraid of the needle, just say so, for crying out loud. I'm also a little iffy on Christ's "Perfect Life". Perfect? Let me tell you, if my days ended in a crucifixion, I'd need a lifetime free membership to Taco Bell, less Fast and the Furious movies, and ten minutes, "anything goes" with Kristen Bell before it even came close to 90% perfect-life satisfaction.

"Who's the holy guy who makes it so you don't die?" "Christ!"
"he's a bad Madonna..."
"Shut yo' Mouth!"
"I'm just talking about Christ"


If you anything related to a sense of humor, you, like me, can totally see Jesus picking that guy's nose.



Do the crucified really look like...casserole? I know they could be pretty graphic, but this is making Mel Gibson's stuff look sanitized.



But you just said he raised the dead and healed the sick! And now you're saying it's never been done before!? Jesus does not save artists with such a fickle sense of continuity.

Not a Sinatra fan, that Jack Chick. It seems to me, the split between the pious and the hell-bound are pretty equal, if anything it seems the former is the larger company.

To all you Buddhists out there? Do you really think I don't exist? That hurts. Eh, it's not like most people act like I exist anyways. I don't think I've ever heard phrases like "I love my sin" or "We're All Gods" either. In fact, most people think they're Gods generally aren't the inclusive sort. I love Mr/Ms. "I Love My Sin" by the way. Taking their damnation is stride to. You just gotta love someone who owns it.


I'd like to go to heaven and everything, but I'm sort of afraid of heights. Seriously, I get jittery walking around in Skyscrapers. You'd see me around the back of that arrow, sticking around. I'm good, no really. The Craig T. Nelson looking is pretty wary over how easy it is. And really, it is. You just have to bend over and say you're shit and you get a free lift to eternal bliss? Sounds like a pyramid scheme. Before you know it, Heaven is sending me junk mail by the assload.

Poor schlub has ruined his life. No wonder, hanging out with cowboys, gangsters, Jews, and dudes with Groucho Marx disguises.

There's something to be said about being decisive, but Chick sure has a bone to grind with the wishy washy. "I have to think about it for a minute. Now granted, when I want to blow someone off completely, I usually throw the whole "sleep on it" ball to get them off my back. But it seems Mr. Vengeful God loves picking people off if they don't succumb to the word instantly. While Chick's intended message is God's word is so good you shouldn't have second thoughts, it really comes across as "...don't put any careful rationalization in what you do! Careful thinking's for turds!..." So we can really equate being saved with shotgun weddings.


Jack sounds like a jealous ex, saying you'll regret not listening. Jack, when my flesh is being torn asunder by burning maggots and my bones sundered by three-donged ogres, I'm probably not going to be thinking about you. In fact, my Hell would probably be sitting right to next you. So I consider any distance between us a victory. "You will bow down before Jesus. The part of Christ will be played by Terrence Stamp. Anyone, if a witness ever hands you this particular track, check off "Hell", hand it back to him. Do this, and you'll get 100 points, which will promote you from default position of "Flunkie" to "Lackey", with plenty of room for advancement.