Sarah Silverman may claim that Jesus is magic, but she must have never met Beard Papa. His magical cream puffs have converted me. Beard Papa is my Jesus now. Sacrilegious? Yes, but insanely delicious.
To make this decision I had to do a lot of soul searching and thought as to who to wage my eternal soul on. Ultimately, I settled on a test that would once and for all settle this debate, a taste test.
In Jesus’ corner is the communion wafer. This little wafer packs quite a punch; not only is it melt in your mouth tasty, but it’s also Jesus’ flesh. No way that Beard Papa’s cream puffs can stack up to that on the metaphysical front. Not only is that a pretty fancy trick, but it also gives the recipient the feeling that they’re a cannibal, or even cooler, a zombie. Score one for the big J.
BP’s creation may not make you feel like the Jeffery Dahmer as you eat it, but it does make you question if you are still alive. As you eat BP’s perfect pastry, you will ask yourself if you have died and gone to heaven. And like a member of the roaming undead, as soon as you finish your first cream puff you feel a insatiable urge to feed again. It really is like Night of the Living Dead if you substitute “brains” for cream puffs. I have never had a wafer that has ever had me craving more as if my life depended on it.
If I could explain Jesus’ score on the metaphysical aspect to football, it would be a field goal. A long one, like 57 yards long. Very impressive, but still only worth 3 points. Keeping with the football theme, Beard Papa’s score would be a touchdown. I’m talking a 100-yard interception return for a TD, plus they went for 2 and got it. 8 points. In your face Jesus.
As you may be able to tell from this entry, I am not “super religious“, so having Beard Papa as my new Jesus isn’t going to change my life too much. Basiclly, it just means I get another holiday, Beard Papa’s birthday will now be celebrated as Creamas.
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