You Don’t Like My Bedazzled Crown Of Thorns? Wow, So Now You’re Persecuting Me Like I’m Jesus Christ.
I suppose you also disapprove of my long beard and the twelve men that follow me around.
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Can you help me put on my new crown of thorns? Thank you. How does it look? Oh, you don’t like my crown of thorns? Really?
Wow, so I guess you’re persecuting me just like they did to Jesus. Yeah, I knew you would say that because these thorns are a powerful image reminiscent of the carpenter and late fashion icon Jesus Christ of Nazareth which would make you the Romans I guess. Actually, I used your gift card to buy it and in the Bible story the Roman soldiers found and placed the thorns on Jesus’s head and mocked him like you’re doing to me now. It’s actually spot on, come to think of it.
So I guess it’s safe to assume you’re going to crucify me now for pulling off this look, are you? In fact, you’ve probably organized this whole party to get all your like minded friends together that’ll help you drag me into town square where I’ll be brutally whipped and jeered by townsfolk. You did, didn’t you? No wonder you were so insistent on the RSVP. You really wanted to make sure I showed up here when you got wind of my new headwear. After all, it’s all anyone’s talking about these days. Certainly not the sandal and bowl cut look you have going on. You know something, I had you all wrong. You’re not some Roman rando. You’re Pontius Pilate.
Perfect, so let me just get out my pocket bible, my Chanel reading glasses, and see what you’ve got planned for me next. Let’s see, let’s see. I suppose after your little friends are done stripping off my clothing so they can wear it for themselves and whipping my lean body, you’ll preside over my “trial” where I’ll be charged as a false fashion prophet — so original! What else, what else. Oh that’s right! You’re going to make me carry a heavy wooden cross on my back up a steep hill, aren’t you? How could I forget! Maybe I could try climbing the line graph charting how much your style has fallen off over time. Might be a little too hard, I don’t know if I’d make it.
And if I fell over, let’s say three or so times while carrying it, I know you wouldn’t help me up. That’s just how…
