I really, really hope this is the final chapter, anyway. But I’m not going to promise myself anything.

Here are two more items I have recently acquired for what is definitely now a “collection” of strange Jesus stuff.

Bill brought me this lamp, which apparently was in his ninety-year-old mother’s posession and that’s why it’s no longer functional, unfortunately.

As you can see, this lamp is composed of a large, shiny seashell embedded vertically in plaster in a black dish. The seashell forms a backdrop for a cheap gold crucifix that overlooks fake coral in two neon colours. The seashell in the foreground conceals a light-bulb, or at least what used to be a light-bulb. I believe the idea is for the light from the bulb to reflect off the inside of the smaller shell and onto the plastic crucifix.

Lest you think this was an ill-advised Women’s Ministries craft, let me note that a stamp on the bottom bears testament to the fact that this item originated at “The World Famous Ye Old Curiosity Shoppe” in Seattle, USA, which has existed since some point in the 19th century (the last two numbers in the date are blurry). There’s still a price tag, too, that reads “$4.50.”

But the more interesting of Saturday’s acquisitions is this one, purchased by Robin on my behalf for $2. Apparently the woman who sold it to her had less-than-adequate English-language skills, so I’ll forgive her not negotiating a lower price.

Surrounded by a tarnished base metal frame is a holographic image of Jesus at prayer, with two cowering disciples looking on. Above the image is a small but working lamp that illuminates the scene. It even came with a light bulb.

As I said, I hope this will be the final installment in this series of posts documenting my acquisition of strange religious items. What began as a whimsical journey has now become slightly depressing. I’m not sure why. Is it perhaps a sense of disillusionment resulting from vestigal attachment to the conventions of Christianity and its iconograpy? Is it that I feel bad that fossil fuels were expended in the creation of these absolutely unneccessary objects of no redeeming aesthetic value?

Maybe it’s just that I don’t have room for more crap.

But I can’t help it if people just keep bringing me stuff! I never should have made my illicit desire so public.

As promised I have more Jesus paraphernalia:

The sound board and microphones in the background may confuse some readers, so I’ll flesh out the situation. Each Saturday morning this month I’ve produced a radio show on a community station about garage sales. That’s why I refer to other people making these enviable purchases rather than myself, as I spend each morning in the studio while others do the actual garage saleing. I’m allowed to make requests, however, and that’s why Marni and Rodney selected this Jesus plate for me.

I think this plate is right on the border of kitsch and just plain useless/tacky. But it has a lot going for it — the unapologetically Caucasian Jesus with flawless pink-toned skin, the flowing brown hair and immaculately groomed beard, the white tunic with sash (coloured purple? I assume the artist intended for it to read as blue, as that’s the traditional Jesus sash colour, and everyone knows purple is the colour of gay). The image also features the subtle yet evident halo and heaven’s light shining down on Jesus’ face in 3/4 profile.

You can’t discern it in this low-resolution image, but at the bottom edge of the Jesus picture a scripted font reads “Inspiration.” That actually makes me wonder if maybe this was part of a series. Perhaps we will find the others next week. What could they be? (Dare i hope for one entitled “Temptation?” Get thee behind me, Satan!)

But our radio show strives to reflect the diversity of the community so we also seek out other forms of religious imagery that borders on kitsch. The Fat Buddha has long been a fixture of the pop culture visual lexicon, but seldom is it so disturbing as this:

Its menacing countenance is part drag queen and part gremlin. Looking at this candle, I imagine that if I took it home I would place it on one shelf only to find it mysteriously reappearing wherever else in the house I went — the kitchen cupboard, the shower stall, the closet, the freezer. Each time I would return it to its appointed place on the bookshelf only to have it once again appear next to me at my desk or bedside. I would throw it in the trash. It would appear on my car dashboard. I would chop it up into pieces, and then throw it out. It would appear in my handbag. I would melt it down, its gelatinous pink flesh forming a grotesque melange in my saucepan until–

Well, the point is I didn’t take it home and I think it’s still hanging out at the radio station. It’s also worth noting that, like the image of Jesus above, this religion founder also appears to be Caucasian.

Oh yes, I almost forgot: the Jesus plate cost me the sum of $0.50. I don’t know how much Freaky Buddha cost, but it can’t have been much more.

WHATEVER WILL WE FIND NEXT? If you have any requests, let me know and I’ll pass them on to our intrepid field reporters.

I hate to link and run, but:

Jesus can appear on your pancakes every day if you buy the Jesus Pan (only $29.99 for two!).

It looks kind of fake at first but a cursory glance around the interwebs seems to indicate it’s for real (feel free to prove me wrong). In any case, I’d be tempted to get one but I don’t make pancakes really ever and I have to admit I’d prefer it if the visage of the Son of God weren’t so dour. A little more along the lines of Buddy Christ, maybe.

Tomorrow’s garage sales may reveal more Saviour kitsch, I do not know. If they do, I won’t be able to tell you about it until Sunday, however, as I’m going camping with the People Love Forgot. No beer, but high-on-Jesus life hijinks should ensue nonetheless.

Last weekend a friend of mine purchased this item at a garage sale. When he showed it to me, I flipped out and he gave it to me. I offered to pay him for it — quadruple the price, even! But he wouldn’t take my money.

I love it. I don’t really have a place to plug it in, but I’ll wait. I’ll wait for the day when, as the sun sets, I can turn the switch and be comforted by a glowing plastic Jesus.

technorati tags: jesus, kitsch