The Jesus from the Black Lagoon - Destroyed by God!
Better get your umbrella - it's irony season, and it is raining ten-pounders out there, some days.
On I-75, between Dayton and Cincinnati, lurked a beast from beyond time.
Passersby from out of state would sometimes catch a glimpse of the monster as they drove on by, and wonder if they actually saw what they thought they saw, there by the side of the road. Meanwhile, those who were native to the area would just nod knowingly, as they'd made their own, separate peace with the creature, long ago. Either that or they'd left the area, or gone quietly mad in its shadow.
The wisdom of the ancient ones said it best - leave things from the elder times alone, and they will assuredly do the same for you.
It went by many names, this atavistic beast from the time before. Touchdown Jesus. Big Butter Jesus. MC 62-Foot Jesus. Swamp Jesus. Swim Meet Jesus. The I-75 Savior. Christ in a Life Preserver...
But those who knew of the fear it commanded - the sheer terror it engendered - the pulse-pounding, limb-throbbing, mind-shattering, brain-fucking HORROR it caused... they called it something different.
They called it the Jesus from the Black Lagoon. And they rightly feared its wrath.
But we come not to praise the monster, nor condemn it, but to bury it. For we have learned on this day that, as if in answer to the fearful prayers of an entire nation, the mighty hand of God has at last struck the monster down.
A lightning strike, or so say men of science.
Already the effect of his presence is waning. The good people of the I-75 corridor seem a little happier, this day - a little more free.
Little Bobby Freeder no longer dreads doing the paper route in the morning for fear of vanishing, like the ten paper carriers before him. Mrs. H. Watkins, 45, no longer feels in danger for her life for seeing Mr. J. Thompson, 26, on the side when her drunken husband is out of town. Bars have re-opened, peep shows openly advertise, and the dish has run off with the spoon.
But calls to rejoice in the mighty doings of a just and noble God seem hollow. For news reaches us that those who unearthed the beast in the first place - all $250,000 of him - and build special walkways so the rightly-terrified could placate his savage appetites, plan to rebuild the demon yet again, so that it might loom over the freeway once more.
Still, the good - but not perfect - people of Monroe, Ohio can breathe easy, at least for the moment. A reminder that, while the Bible does not promise a world free from ancient monsters, it offers hope that both justice and vengeance are that of the Lord.
On I-75, between Dayton and Cincinnati, lurked a beast from beyond time.
Passersby from out of state would sometimes catch a glimpse of the monster as they drove on by, and wonder if they actually saw what they thought they saw, there by the side of the road. Meanwhile, those who were native to the area would just nod knowingly, as they'd made their own, separate peace with the creature, long ago. Either that or they'd left the area, or gone quietly mad in its shadow.
The wisdom of the ancient ones said it best - leave things from the elder times alone, and they will assuredly do the same for you.
It went by many names, this atavistic beast from the time before. Touchdown Jesus. Big Butter Jesus. MC 62-Foot Jesus. Swamp Jesus. Swim Meet Jesus. The I-75 Savior. Christ in a Life Preserver...
But those who knew of the fear it commanded - the sheer terror it engendered - the pulse-pounding, limb-throbbing, mind-shattering, brain-fucking HORROR it caused... they called it something different.
They called it the Jesus from the Black Lagoon. And they rightly feared its wrath.
But we come not to praise the monster, nor condemn it, but to bury it. For we have learned on this day that, as if in answer to the fearful prayers of an entire nation, the mighty hand of God has at last struck the monster down.
A lightning strike, or so say men of science.
Already the effect of his presence is waning. The good people of the I-75 corridor seem a little happier, this day - a little more free.
Little Bobby Freeder no longer dreads doing the paper route in the morning for fear of vanishing, like the ten paper carriers before him. Mrs. H. Watkins, 45, no longer feels in danger for her life for seeing Mr. J. Thompson, 26, on the side when her drunken husband is out of town. Bars have re-opened, peep shows openly advertise, and the dish has run off with the spoon.
But calls to rejoice in the mighty doings of a just and noble God seem hollow. For news reaches us that those who unearthed the beast in the first place - all $250,000 of him - and build special walkways so the rightly-terrified could placate his savage appetites, plan to rebuild the demon yet again, so that it might loom over the freeway once more.
Still, the good - but not perfect - people of Monroe, Ohio can breathe easy, at least for the moment. A reminder that, while the Bible does not promise a world free from ancient monsters, it offers hope that both justice and vengeance are that of the Lord.
posted by J. Edward Tremlett at 8:55 AM
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