Ask Lemmy

A pickled cucumber

Non fungible tokens

Weed. Buncha squares, those Wise Guys.

One of those string pull animal sound thingies where the cow goes "moo" and the lamb goes "baa" and Judas goes "he's over there man".

Weed

Private Investigator results. Divine conception sounds sus.

Baby Oil

I brought a nicely written certificate saying their Christmas present was that a donation had been made in their name. None of them could read. It didn't go over well.

ancestry.com dna kit

It's actually my headcannon that the 3 wise men were 3 teenagers who accidentally time traveled. They blundered into the scene and felt bad and handed over 2 different scents of axe body spray and a handful of chuck E cheese tokens.

Given thier odd dress and incomprehensible language, they were assumed to be foreign and extremely wealthy. Not having any comprehension of the gifts they concluded they must be gold and exotic perfumes.

Fentanyl.

A key chain with his name, "Brian."

Glock w a switch

A paternity test

Some weed .

A pack of disposable diapers. They understandably looked at me weird because they hadn't been invented yet.

A quarter ounce of blow and four of the dirtiest Roman hookers I could find.

I was not only given a vision of where Jesus was born, but the extensive navigational and shipbuilding experience necessary to travel to South America to obtain coca 1000 years before the Vikings did. I was also granted a vision by god of the horticultural knowledge necessary to grow coca somewhere Jesus adjacent, and the advanced knowledge of chemistry necessary to extract it in its pure form.

I show up and basically stay up for three days talking about bread and drinking wine, occasionally excusing myself to bang my hookers, drunk off my ass on wine the entire time.

I'm eventually ejected from the manger, which really pisses me off. I hold a grudge.

The energy I have been given by excessive cocaine use allows me to rise through the ranks of Roman society, all the while holding a deep grudge, as the other wise men get all the credit for bringing their shitty gifts. One by one I start eliminating the people that were at the manger, aa my oversized cocaine-enhanced ego can't take the slight. Until one day I hear about some jerkoff running around calling himself king of the Jews, and my final revenge arrives at last.

My name? Pontuis Pilate.

Maury was the fourth wise man.

A DNA/patternity test…

I didn't shit the whole journey, then I crapped it all out into Christ's crib. You won't hear about it in the Bible, but the Bible carries on the spirit of the gift: it's a bunch of shit.

A fake 10 Denari coin with an invitation to a prayer group on the back

it's not what i brought, it's how badly i destroyed their toilet on his first birthday party.

A cross, I just like the design. I was told I was a little early by the fifth wise men but he just sorta crumbled into dust after saying that? Go figure.

I couldn't figure out what to give the kid. I mean, a king deserves only the best, and the King of Kings doubly so. But what you do get someone who literally has everything?! I mean, he made everything, well at least his dad did? I don't know.

So I'd been studying these earwigs that infest the graineries of my subjects and found this really cool one. The sculpting on its abdomen is just beautiful! So I named it after this kid and brought an amphoriskos of them with me to give to the little LORD.

When I knelt and placed the bottle in the kids manger, the mother just jumped up and snatched it, tossing it in a corner. She and the dad (lol) looked at me like I had grown a second head. I get that bugs aren't everyone's thing but they didn't even look at them! The next dung scarabs I find are getting named after his parents.

One of those I support single moms stripper t-shirts. For carpenter joe of course.

Something he could really use: A book full of web links to articles about "how to start your own religion".

Perhaps I should have just given him a Post-It note that said "Dude, just use ChatGPT"!

A mother***king MERRY CHRYSLER

a letter from the real father

I bring him a claw bar (a train railroad spike remover).

Vaccines.

Come on people, do you want the son of God to get whooping cough?!

(For the record, I'm in favour of science-based medical care, including vaccines. I shouldn't have to say that. What's the world coming to?)

I brought him a Camel, but apparently they were a Marlboro family.

A $10 charity donation in his name