ancestry.com dna kit
A key chain with his name, “Brian.”
Blessed are the cheese makers.
It’s actually my headcannon that the 3 wise men were 3 teenagers who accidentally time traveled. They blundered into the scene and felt bad and handed over 2 different scents of axe body spray and a handful of chuck E cheese tokens.
Given thier odd dress and incomprehensible language, they were assumed to be foreign and extremely wealthy. Not having any comprehension of the gifts they concluded they must be gold and exotic perfumes.
That could have been right out of a Bill and Ted movie.
Party on, dudes! And be excellent to each other.
Would have been way better than the latest bill and Ted movie
That is a beautiful thought.
Some weed .
There were rumours that Frankincense, one of the gifts, has psychotropic properties. Sadly, it was nothing more than a rumour
Weed it is, baby!
Now tell us all about catnip, in German.
Maury was the fourth wise man.
I couldn’t figure out what to give the kid. I mean, a king deserves only the best, and the King of Kings doubly so. But what you do get someone who literally has everything?! I mean, he made everything, well at least his dad did? I don’t know.
So I’d been studying these earwigs that infest the graineries of my subjects and found this really cool one. The sculpting on its abdomen is just beautiful! So I named it after this kid and brought an amphoriskos of them with me to give to the little LORD.
When I knelt and placed the bottle in the kids manger, the mother just jumped up and snatched it, tossing it in a corner. She and the dad (lol) looked at me like I had grown a second head. I get that bugs aren’t everyone’s thing but they didn’t even look at them! The next dung scarabs I find are getting named after his parents.
One of those string pull animal sound thingies where the cow goes “moo” and the lamb goes “baa” and Judas goes “he’s over there man”.
A DNA/patternity test…
There’s no reason that the Holy Spirit wouldn’t borrow DNA from a suitable male human. The “special” stuff is magical, spiritual or whatever you might call it, and that doesn’t have to be in the genetic code.
So basically, there’s a good chance that the test would come back as Joseph being the bio-dad, whether he laid with Mary or not.
I’d say the odds would be that the father is not Joseph…
As Christopher Hitchens once said: “Which is more likely — that the whole natural order is to be suspended, or that a jewish minx should tell a lie?"
This little drummer boy who would just NOT stop playing
A $10 charity donation in his name
To the Human Fund?
Vaccines.
Come on people, do you want the son of God to get whooping cough?!
(For the record, I’m in favour of science-based medical care, including vaccines. I shouldn’t have to say that. What’s the world coming to?)
A quarter ounce of blow and four of the dirtiest Roman hookers I could find.
I was not only given a vision of where Jesus was born, but the extensive navigational and shipbuilding experience necessary to travel to South America to obtain coca 1000 years before the Vikings did. I was also granted a vision by god of the horticultural knowledge necessary to grow coca somewhere Jesus adjacent, and the advanced knowledge of chemistry necessary to extract it in its pure form.
I show up and basically stay up for three days talking about bread and drinking wine, occasionally excusing myself to bang my hookers, drunk off my ass on wine the entire time.
I’m eventually ejected from the manger, which really pisses me off. I hold a grudge.
The energy I have been given by excessive cocaine use allows me to rise through the ranks of Roman society, all the while holding a deep grudge, as the other wise men get all the credit for bringing their shitty gifts. One by one I start eliminating the people that were at the manger, aa my oversized cocaine-enhanced ego can’t take the slight. Until one day I hear about some jerkoff running around calling himself king of the Jews, and my final revenge arrives at last.
My name? Pontuis Pilate.
I brought him a Camel, but apparently they were a Marlboro family.
I arrived well after the other wise men, sweating through my robes and wishing I’d taken a shorter route. I knelt beside the manger and laid out the lamb’s-wool scarf I’d meant to bring. It was soft, pure, perfect. Except the shearing accident had splattered it with dried blood. Mary stared. Joseph’s eyebrows climbed halfway to heaven.
“It’s prophetic symbolism,” I muttered. “You know… blood of the lamb?”
The silence was so heavy it felt like a fourth gift.
Panicking, I pulled a small winter squash from my pack and set it beside the scarf. “And this. For… later.”
The baby gurgled. I decided to take that as forgiveness.
A cross, I just like the design. I was told I was a little early by the fifth wise men but he just sorta crumbled into dust after saying that? Go figure.
