Here's Another Revelation For You...

by John of Patmos

Wow! OK, guys... we need to talk here.

These so-called Revelations I wrote - they weren't intended to be interpreted as gospel. I had nothing to do whatesoever with the life of Jesus - he was sacrificed nearly a hundred years before I was born. I never met the man, never met his disciples, nothing. I heard stories about him, people seemed to like him, he sounded really cool, so I made him the conquering hero in my heavy metal concept album.

I played bass bouzouki for a going-nowhere metal band called Caesarsryche back in the early part of the second century AD. We toured Israel opening for much better bands on and off, but on the whole all we did was musical masturbation... and a crapload of psychotropic herbs. When desperation and Jerusalem peyote met the recounting of the life of Jesus in my sleepless mind, I decided to write the album that would get us recognized.

I have to say, it was hella boss there for a while - all these teenaged Romans pumping their fists and moshing in their sackcloth-black togas while we wailed on about the Whore of Babylon and seven-headed, ten-horned beast and such... but it had to come to an end sometime. In what was supposed to be our Big Show, our percussionist Nikola VI got shitfaced and dropped some buttons before we went on stage. Of course, halfway through our magnum opus "Beast Ride of the Purple Harlot" Nikki blow chunks. I don't mean he missed his marks... I mean he physically gut-cannoned ex-groceries all over the first row of fans. Turns out one of them was Emperor Hadrian's niece. We never saw Rome again.

We kicked around Judea for a while, but couldn't draw flies since that town was all about bubble-gum lyre pop. Eventually Caesarsryche broke up and I took my lyrics with me to Patmos. I hooked up with the Thebes-Hold-'em Poker Tour down there for a while and was doing pretty well until some lucky amateur jackoff tripped his sixes on the river when I went all-in on three fives I scored from the flop. I lost everything except my sandals and my songs, which is why I moved into that cave where my "revelations" were eventually discovered.

Now you know. All that end-of-the-world, Armaggedon, Judgement Day apocalyptic jazz that many sects of Christians have been predicting, longing for, and in many cases attempting to bring about for the last few centuries was just a bouzouki player's attempt at scoring some nookie and a patronage contract. Please stop damning, shunning, banishing, imprisoning and killing each other over my mosh - unless you react the same way in the year 3800 to Iron Maiden's Eddie, some of you ubervigilant 21st century Christians are acting like a fuckpile of retards.