Kiss Your Ass Goodbye

“The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born.” (Mark 14:21)

All I can say is Judas had balls, man. He sells Jesus up the river for a handful of coins and then has the audacity to seal his betrayal with a kiss. I guess being a cheap opportunist isn’t good enough for him. He has to topple Satan as the most despicable character in history (although Leona Helmsley and Al Sharpton are dishonorable mentions). Judas is the model for bottom dwellers everywhere and makes Hitler, Stalin, and Osama look like Larry, Moe, and Curly. Yes, Judas gets the trophy for the most contemptible human to have ever lived. But that’s not the only cool thing about him.

Judas also has the distinction of being the damnedest villain ever. He’s not just damned; he’s really damned. Actually, more like really really really really really damned. Jesus goes so far as to say that it would be better if Judas had not been born in the first place, and he doesn’t say that about anybody else. Judas isn’t even in the same league as all the other jerks on the highway to hell. We’re talking beyond bad here. Judas is the far side of foul, the vicar of vile, the don of depravity. God had to dig a basement in hell to make room for him. Dante throws Judas into the lowest circle of hell where he’s crammed, head-first, into the mouth of a giant, zoned out Satan who forever chews him like so much raw squid.

The only hint the Bible give us about the ultimate fate of our sinister smoocher is that he is, as Jesus declares, “doomed to destruction.” In the book of Acts we find that Judas has left to go “where he belongs.” All I can say is that this can’t be good for ol’ Judas. Once you’ve kissed off the Son of God you’re pretty much screwed and there aren’t a whole lot of places you can hang out. You’ll never get a good table at a restaurant or decent tickets to a show. You can forget catching a cab or copping extra whipped cream on your DQ sundae. You are a marked man on your way to the only place you belong now, and it ain’t going to be pretty.

As we all know, doom is gloomy at best, a badly lit dive with unrecognizable stains on the carpet. Doom is annihilation, calamity, cataclysm, catastrophe, condemnation, death, destruction, disaster, judgment, ruin, tragedy, and a bucketload of bad karma. Doom is a garage full of overdue library books; it’s a cup of cold coffee; it’s dog poop on the sole of your shoe. Doom is a dirty public restroom without toilet paper. Doom is so not fun.

And then there’s the destruction part. Destruction means that when they’re done with you there’s no way you can be fitted for a new suit. It means that whatever was you isn’t anymore (which, I suppose, could be a kind of relief for some people). All that’s left of you is nothing—actually, less than that. There’s not even any nothing left. It’s like creation backwards, except without popcorn. Destruction is final; there’s no second act, no encore, no aftertaste. You don’t get a second chance with destruction, which mean you better get it right the first time.

Anyway, Judas may have had chutzpah, but he’s paying for it now. I bet he’s wishing he hadn’t been so lovey-dovey with a member of the Godhead. When it comes to deity, you don’t kiss and live to tell about it. Then again, if it weren’t for Judas, Jesus Christ Superstar would have been totally lame.

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