If You Don’t Look Like Jesus, Why Are You Still Alive?

I wrote some big words in the past:

While I’m lucky to be blessed with the genetics to make a monster beard, I don’t think I’ll do it again.

February 6, 2007

I RENOUNCE THOSE WORDS. Without a beard I am not a real man—I just don’t look right without long coarse hair covering half of my face. And honestly, the beard was a pussy magnet. There were those off-nights I could just hug the wall and take care of cute girls who come up to me with “You look like Jesus, hehe.” It was like a tractor beam.

No girl will admit it, but they all have a fantasy of being fucked by Jesus. I am the luckiest man on Earth if after just a couple months I can look like the most popular man in the history of the world. Wherever I go, no matter what country, I will be instantly recognized as the savior of the human race. Knowing what I know now, I would kill myself if I didn’t have the ability to look like Jesus.

So thick and beautiful

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