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Jesus Is My Agent

So I’m surfing the internets the other day when I come across

this story

(yes, another one) on Texas Rangers outfielder Josh Hamilton. This one is about how the talks for his new contract have been put off because he’s just gotten a new agent, some Christian agent who also represents Lance Berkman. And I’m thinking about how I don’t really see how applying Christian principles makes one a good agent, especially when I read about how the agency

dropped Frank Thomas as a client

because he was unhappy with his contract. Ari Gold, after all, would never drop a client for being unhappy with a contract, but would, instead, go into

full fight mode

and try to get a better contract.

That’s when my cell phone rings. It’s from a blocked number, but I decide to answer anyway.

“Please hold for Jesus,” an angelic voice says, and the next thing I know, I’m on hold listening to “Dancing Queen.”

Jesus? What kind of joke is this?

“This is Jesus.” The voice is vaguely Graham Chapman sounding. “You were thinking about Me?”

“I was?”

“You were looking at the Josh Hamilton thing and you were wondering how I would handle such a thing.”

“But,” I start. “How. And I don’t…”

“I know everything. I’m kind of like Santa Claus with that. And yeah, I know you’re agnostic and everything, but if I can speak to that Jew kid Kyle Broflovski, I can speak to an Agnostic. So, go ahead. Ask your questions.”

“Well, why an agent? Aren’t there some more important things you could be doing with your time?”

“Well, as the Bible says, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’ Besides, Dad handles all of the war and peace stuff. I was kind of bored and wanted something to do.”

“Blessed are the poor? So you’re saying that baseball players are poor and need your help?”

“Sure, most of them come from poor families. So I help them make some cash. After all, baseball owners are rich bastards, and I’m not too fond of rich people who exploit the poor. ‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’”

“Well…”

“You’re still not buying it, are you?”

“No. Not really. You can’t tell me that Roger Clemens is a poor guy who needs your help.”

“Oh, I won’t deal with the likes of Roger Clemens. I don’t want any client of mine to be playing around with 15-year-old girls. That’s just wrong.”

“Well, what about Barry Bonds?”

“Oh, sure, if he calls, I’ll get him a contract. After all, with that David Ortiz injury the Red Sox need a hitter right now. Manny can’t do it all on his own. Especially with Youkilis being such a jerk. And as I once said, ‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’”

“You’re saying Barry Bonds is going to heaven?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. He’s got to ask My forgiveness. But I am into forgiveness and all of that. It’s the Christian way.”

“Well, I have another question. All of those guys who salute you when they get a hit or a strikeout. What’s your opinion on that?”

“Those guys need to get their heads on straight. As if I or Dad have any time to waste on whether Luke Scott gets an infield single. Really. It’s an insult to Me. As I like to say, ‘Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves.’ Hey, hold on a second. I’ve got a call on the other line.”

I’m back on hold, and now I’m listening to “Baby One More Time.”

“Sorry about that. I’ve got Sidney Ponson on the other line. So we’re going to have to cut this short. He’s really screwed up this time. I told him to watch the booze, but would he listen? No. But he’s really sorry, so I’m going to see what I can do.”

“Sure,” I say. “Like you know, I saw the thing where Josh Hamilton’s people dropped Frank Thomas because he was complaining about his contract. What’s your opinion on that?”

“They messed up. After all, as I once said, ‘For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.’ Mr. Thomas was doing as I suggested. Which means his agent really didn’t do the proper investigative journalism on Me that they said that they did.”

“Are you calling them liars?”

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“‘Do not think that I came to destroy the Law or the Prophets. I did not come to destroy, but to fulfill.’ But I’ve really got to get back to Sidney before he slugs another judge.”

“Just one more question. Why the awful hold music?”

“Oh,” and He laughs. “Being on hold is supposed to be like being in Hell, right? So I thought you might really like to know what Hell is like. Now I’ve got to go. Jesus out.”

Wow. So I talked to Jesus. And Hell is like listening to Britney and ABBA. I always thought it would be like listening to Drayton McLane drone on about being a champion for all of eternity. The problem is, I don’t know which is worse, but given my druthers, I think I’ll take Britney and ABBA. – John Royal

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