Jesus Saves

I am in San Diego.

The phone shatters the darkness (thank whatever god invented black out curtains).

I roll over in no fit state to deal with whoever is inflicting this pain and notice its 8 AM.

I have a vague recollection of having to do something at 8 AM. Answering the phone, my comrade tells me he is waiting downstairs for our big Sunday trip to Mexico. Politely I decline begging off due to my poor state of health (and confusion) on a bad dose of something I ate. Or was it something I drank until 5 AM?

Its amazing how you can lie when pressed.

I try to go back to sleep but the throbbing behind my temples is reminding me that I should never again drink vodka in such large quantities.

I decide to try and stay awake and here I make the second mistake of the morning (waking up was a bad enough move). I switch on the TV.

No matter which channel I surf to I am assailed by the jesus channels. As in every channel I flick to has a god botherer in action.

I settle on a woman with large breasts who is, in her best pitch, telling the world that jesus is the answer. “put your hand on the part that hurts” she wails. “Let jesus cure your ills”.

I am exhorted to action. How can I refuse such an offer from such a well-endowed lady who obviously has jesus's private cell number.

So here I am, standing in front of the TV in my underpants with my hand on my forehead listening to her wailing how if I truly believe, all my hurts and ills will now be gone.

With a hangover like this, trust me I believe.

Sadly, jesus has no sense of humour about vodka.

Tylenol, however has a much better sense of humour. After a handful of these, normality returned, sleep ensued and in the very late afternoon, I had Mexican for dinner.

Might start a new religion.