An Idolators Christmas

He was born into a plastic trough filled with hypo-allergenic straw.
The waxy rose hues of his new-minted cheeks were hand painted by Santa’s elves.

O Plastic Jesus
O Son of

It’s easy, speaking our loose-minded language, to slap the label ‘impossible’ on all sorts of highly probable things.

world among us speak frequently of ‘the impossible’As far as I’m aware, only one genuinely impossible thing has ever happened. Lots of highly improbable things have happened, in fact, they happen with enough regularity to make you wonder if there’s something slightly bodgy with the notion of ‘probability’ per se. But to be genuinely impossible an event needs to be more than simply highly improbable. ‘Impossible’ and ‘Improbable’ are entirely different beasts, they swing through different trees. For example, if I had an Improbability Machine with a handy knob by which I could dial up events of varying levels of improbability, it would not be the case that you could twist on up through levels of improbability until you reach the maximum ‘impossible’ setting. Impossibility is where probability gets switched off.

Which is why, contrary to much of our loose-minded speech, impossible things really don’t happen.

Not this God, not this humanity.

Who would dare to say that Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob would enfold himself in the uterus of a Israeli girl?