Good Friday? More Like “Fuck-Up Friday”

It’s Good Friday, folks, the day we’re supposed to solemnly nod at the memory of some poor bastard getting nailed to a cross for the sins of humanity. Salvation, hope, all that jazz. Yeah, well, that went to shit, didn’t it? I’m an atheist through and through—don’t get me wrong, I’d rather gargle broken glass than sing hymns—but it’s a holy day, so let’s play ball. Today’s about that guy, couple thousand years back, who let himself get strung up to atone for humanity’s endless parade of fuck-ups. And Christ on a bike, have we racked up some sins since then.

Take a look at those Reform pricks, for starters. Can’t even spell “peaceful” on their latest poster—check it, it’s a goddamn embarrassment. They’re already slobbering over Christian votes, hopping on the Good Friday bandwagon like the fame-hungry, money-worshipping leeches they are. You’d need the IQ of a lobotomized parrot not to see through their game. These bastards don’t worship anything but their own reflections and a fat bank account. They’ve got the far-right frothing at the mouth, screaming, “Bet Starmer doesn’t say shit about Good Friday!” I hope that boring suit remembers to mumble something pious today, or they’ll rip him a new asshole for the umpteenth time.

And don’t get me started on the King’s speech—blathering about other religions like it’s a bloody interfaith PowerPoint. Mate, read the room. It was weird, pointless, and a total misfire given the shitstorm we’re wading through. But I digress.

Point is, this Jesus guy—poor sod—handed himself over to save his followers, dying for the sins of every bastard on this rock. Nailed to a cross on Good Friday, couple millennia ago. Big deal for the Christian crowd, and fair play to ‘em. But I can’t help but wonder: what the fuck would Jesus make of today’s world? The internet, for one—holy shit, that’s gotta be a sin in itself. A global sewer of porn, trolls, and cat videos. What about the Ten Commandments? Let’s try updating those for 2025. Commandment One: “Thou shalt have no gods before me.” Yeah, fucked that up already. People worship money, fame, power, Instagram followers—pick your poison. We can’t even clear the first hurdle.

So, is there still a place for religion in this madhouse? For centuries, it’s been an excuse for violence, wars, hatred, death, destruction—name a catastrophe, religion’s got its fingerprints on it. Have we evolved past fairy tales scribbled on papyrus? Are the devout just going through the motions, clinging to hearsay from two thousand years ago? Is there a scale here—disillusioned cultist to atheist, or atheist to enlightened believer? Where’s humanity on that spectrum? Hell if I know.

And let’s talk about the real kicker: the far-right, those knuckle-dragging “Christians” screaming about “immigrants” and whitewashing everything. Newsflash, geniuses—your boy Jesus wasn’t white. Bethlehem? That’s in Palestine, you geographically illiterate pricks. Arab looks, brown skin. If Jesus was kicking around today, these same frothing bigots would be chaining him to a deportation van faster than you can say “border control.” The irony’s so thick you could choke on it.

Back to my godless, chain-smoking self. Have we, as a species, outgrown religion? Look at the state of things: division, tribalism, everyone screaming their truth into the void. Good Friday’s supposed to be about sacrifice, redemption, all that high-minded shit. But today, it’s just another excuse for hypocrites to sling mud and chase clout. Jesus died for our sins? Poor bastard must be spinning in his tomb, wondering why he bothered.

So here’s my Good Friday challenge: shut the fuck up for one day. Let the Christians have their moment. Stop weaponizing a dead guy on a cross for your petty crusades. And maybe—just maybe—try not being a complete asshole for 24 hours. I’ll give it a shot too, but don’t hold your breath.

Spider Thompson, signing off. Now where’s my fucking coffee?

UPDATE: Micro-dose of truth – Starmer, that predictable git, dropped his little post like I said he would. Fat lot of good it did. The mouth-breathers pounced, claws out, howling it was just empty words, not enough grovelling. Typical. He was screwed from the jump—say nothing, and they’d lose their tiny minds screaming he’s spitting on Christianity in this so-called ‘Christian nation.’ Buncha hypocritical bollocks, as always.