Saturday, July 25, 2009

Are you drinking with me Jesus?

It seems you can't do anything without some bastard ripping you off.

I wrote a, frankly, quite brilliant poem about drinking with Jesus and demanding he buy me booze, and a good friend has brought to me attention that no sooner do I post it than those motherfuckers Jello Biafra and Mojo Nixon rip me off with their own song about getting pissed by Our Saviour, Jesus Christ.

That said, I wholeheartedly approve of the song. I gave up trying to pick the best lyrics to highlight so here are the lyrics in full:

I saw you sittin' there
I was tryin' not to stare
I wasn't sure if it was you
I didn't know just what to do

Are you drinkin' with me Jesus
I can't see you very clear
Are you drinkin' with me Jesus
Would you buy a friend a beer

As I nestled on my barstool
I felt your warmness within
I looked down at my pants
That wasn't warmness
I wet myself again

Does your head pound, Jesus
As hung over you do rise
How does paradise look, Jesus
Through holy bloodshot eyes

Should we take a cab home Jesus
Shit, man, we can hoof it from here
I know you can walk on the water
But can you walk on this much beer

“How does paradise look, Jesus/Through holy bloodshot eyes” — Only God knows if Jesus will be sober for the Final Battle between Good and Evil.


  1. The song "are you drinking with me Jesus?" is actually the work of The Beat Farmers featuring Country Dick Montana.

    Mojo ripped him off......not you.

  2. Then I shall direct my lawyers to pursue Country Dick.


    Check this link before you shoot off your mouth again, Mr. anonymous asshole. The song was written by Peter Berryman, half of the folk group "The Berrymans" from Madison WI, back in the mid-1970s; they never released it on any albums, but it was published in their first songbook. I can't remember exactly when it was published as I don't have my copy in fron of me at the moment, but I know it definitely precedes the Biafra/Nixon recording in the mid-1990s.

    And Mr. Sands — I'd suggest you not give your lawyer any retainer fees; even if you had Perry Mason he couldn't win this one for you.

  4. Dear Zaphod (if that really is your name and, if it be so, your parenst must have hated you)

    No Perry Mason is needed in this case. The matter is perfectly simple, it stuns me how Biafro or Nixon or these Berrymans, whomever they are, ever though they could get away with it.

    *All* I have to prove to a jury of my peers is that *all* any so-called author needed to rip Carlo Sands off was a time machine to travel to July 16, 2009. This is the date I published my brilliant poem demanding Jesus buy me a beer.

    This poem, for which I have been shortlisted for a Nobel Prize for Literature, is not the *same* as the lyrics to the song published above. It is however, suspiciously similar in theme and subject matter.

    Then these time travelling thiefs, having taken the core idea, these so-called authors merely need to then travel *back* in time and, be it the 70s or 90s or whenever, "publish" for themselves a different but notably similar set of lyrics on a very familar theme. (Familiar to the Berrymans or Biafra and Nixon or even Country Dick, but not to their audiences because they are, of course, blissfully unaware of the time travel fraud.)

    That is all. And there is not one of my drunken peers who would fail to see the logic of my case. (To try Carlo Sands infront of a sober jury would violate the entire principle of liberal democratic justice systems and be a clear sign of the rise of some form of fascist dictatorship.)

    Now I notice, Zaphrod, that you use the term "asshole". From this I conclude you are what is most politely known as "an American".

    There is something I have to say here. Before commenting on my blog, I would like all American readers to do something for me. I would like them to learn to spell "irony".

    It is difficult, I know, as your "education" system doesn't seem to teach you much more than how to headbut others in ridiculous padded uniforms, but I would really like you to give it a go. No pain, no gain.

    Whewn you have figured out how to spell it (hint: it starts with "i"), I'd like you to look it up in a dictionary. Sorry, I forgot the American thing: just google "dictionary".

    Then read the definition. If you are struggling, ask a Canadian friend to help.

    Until you and your countryfolk understand what irony is, you are probably best staying off this blog.

    Have a nice day!

    Carlo Sands (deceased)

    PS: Please check out my google ads at the top of the page and click anything you like! It earns me money.

    PPS: King of the New York Hacks is excluded from my anti-American rant. I like the King.