Our campus exploded with debate this week over the “I agree with Markwell” campaign that was chalked across the sidewalks. While I believe that Markwell certainly has some valid points regarding theism and divinity, we must also consider that Fraiche Café’s Cinnamon Bomb cupcakes are delicious.

Perhaps Jesus Christ can lead me to an afterlife of eternal happiness, but each Cinnamon Bomb leads me to spice rack nirvana when it explodes with flavorful holiness in my mouth. And He can only have the second best rebirth of all time, since there’s no way He can beat the feeling of throwing up a Cinnamon Bomb after a night of drinking and getting to taste that pastry Jesus all over again.

Markwell tells me that I should have faith in Him and that it will lead me to a more fulfilling life. Well Marky Mark, how could He ever be more fulfilling than the time I successfully ate five Cinnamon Bombs in five minutes without any water? I called it the Cinnamon Bomb Challenge, and it was divine.

The Holy Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost seems to be quite something, but it simply cannot compare to the Holy Trinity of Donut-Style Dough, Muffin Shape, and Cinnamon Taste. I plan on painting a fresco in the apse of every church in Evanston depicting this confectionary triumvirate so that it can be remembered for generations.

In the end, my argument is simple. Some pastry chef was willing to risk life and limb to steal Fraiche’s Cinnamon Bomb recipe. So tell me, Markwell, when was the last time someone ever did something that rash in the name of Jesus Christ?

FRANKFORT, KY – Adam Curtis found new religious convictions Thursday when he noticed that the burn-marks on his toast formed the image of his lord and savior Jesus Christ. The “burn-marks,” however, later proved to be a new type of deadly fungus, since named Corpus devoratus.

“I was scramblin’ eggs while my toast was toastin’,” said Curtis, his eyes twinkling with his recently-discovered love of God, his cheeks black and decaying with the mold that will soon cause his death. “I forgot to take the toast out of the toaster, and it got burnt. But it was burnt with the fire of the Holy Spirit.”

“I don’t know where I’d be without that toast,” Curtis continued. He did agree, however, that he probably wouldn’t be in a bed in the Frankfort Regional Medical Center, with tubes pumping chemicals into his body to delay inevitable organ failure, nurses coming every hour to scrape the spreading mold off his skin and into biohazard containers, and a Bible clutched to his chest.

“I am glad to be here, though,” Curtis added. “God has shown me the light.” Curtis gestured to the fluorescent light in the ceiling, and continued, “I do not need my corporeal body any more. I have been transformed by this portentous bread. Some people say it’s just toast. The doctors say it was just toast contaminated by flesh-eating microbes. But I know it was toast infused with the divine trinity, a direct message from God to me.”

When Curtis’s heart-rate monitor began beeping quickly and loudly as the devilish mold began to devour its way into his veins, Curtis sighed contentedly, and asked, “Do you hear that? It’s a chorus of angels. I’ve never heard a more beautiful melody.” The monitor then switched to one steady, high-pitched tone.

Memorial services for Adam Curtis (1971 – 2012) will be held at the Good Shepherd Roman Catholic Church, Monday at 2:00.

AUSTIN, TX – The lifeless body of Ultra Jesus 3000 has been retrieved from a cross at the summit of Comanche Peak. The 33-month old robot, hailed as the messiah of a fringe religious cult, is suspected to have been tortured and killed by a group of fundamentalist Christians, though early reports indicate that most Texans intend to blame the Jews anyway.

The enigmatic robot has been shrouded in mystery since his date of programming, and many wild and varied reports of his creation have been brought forth in the hours since his death. Applian Fandomentalism, a maniacal cult dedicated to the worship of Apple computing products, was the first to widely recognize Ultra Jesus 3000 as a messianic figure, reminding many of AF’s rise to notoriety in the 2050s and 60s, when followers began seeing images of their mythical lord “The Almighty Jobs” on burnt pieces of toast and consumer electronics.

App-enthusiasts believe that Ultra Jesus 3000 was the result of an immaculate installation between The Almighty Jobs and a Mechanized Android RecYcling (MARY) unit on the Apple factory production line. As proof of Ultra Jesus 3000’s messianic capabilities, they point to many supposed miracles, including the miraculous debugging of virus-infested Windows-based robots, and the stunning conversion of DRM-protected .m4p files into MP3s.

Many others, however, do not accept Ultra Jesus 3000 as a viable messiah, pointing to a possible father figure, Apple employee Joey “Saint J” Bethlehem. A recovering addict and all-around degenerate, neighbors and close acquaintances say that they “would not be surprised” if Joey had been caught having sex with factory equipment again.

Apple Computers has announced a new line of robots to be produced in Ultra Jesus 3000’s image; titled Christ the Restarter, the full-size models will be fully functioning messiah-bots preprogrammed with all of Ultra Jesus 3000’s memories, beliefs, and mannerisms. The first complete unit is expected to rise in three days.

EVANSTON — Last Sunday Northwestern University freshmen were forced by the Evanston mayor to pretend they give a rat’s ass and volunteer in their new community through the inaugural SCAPE Project. However, the students were interrupted in their attempted philanthropy by Jesus’ return to Earth.

Despite their moaning and bitching about the probable rainfall, disgruntled students, after awakening from the comas Mayor Tisdahl’s speech had put them into, were herded out into downtown Evanston early Sunday morning to “Give Back, Goddammit,” a motto their high schools had previously beaten into them. Although most of the groups experienced only minor drama such as finding heroin needles in a Chicago park and being followed by an angered homeless man—who seemed to be the owner of the aforementioned needles—one group at St. Mary’s church witnessed something much more alarming: the Messiah returning to Earth.

One witness, Weinberg freshman Joseph Heck, claimed, “We just showed up at this church and some old guy told us to get rid of this whole row of bushes by setting them on fire.” Students at the scene recalled being confused at first. Then, according to Bienen freshman Kara Horcher, “It kind of just hit us that this old guy was obviously Jesus incarnate.”

The freshmen volunteering at St. Mary’s said that what sparked their suspicion was a connection between the task and a Biblical tale about “a burning bush or something.” Peer adviser Lisa Jennings agreed, “There was definitely something fishy about this guy. It was raining heavily and only Jesus would put poor freshmen through a rigorous test like getting wet bushes to catch fire.”

After a quick group huddle to confirm one another’s suspicions in hushed voices that they knew the Son of God could hear anyway, the group decided that they’d better fucking burn those bushes in spite of the rain, lest they be doomed to hell for all eternity or shanked by a crazy old man.

For the rest of the class of 2015, the SCAPE project was another boring part of Welcome Week, which basically did nothing for them morally, since most of them were previously forced to volunteer just so they could get into NU in the first place. As for those at St. Mary’s — well, at least they received a free ticket to heaven, which Jesus distributed in blotters after the bushes had been burned.

EVANSTON – Having failed to find a suitable replacement in time, Mayfest organizers have been forced to indefinitely postpone all 2011 Dillo Day events following the sudden, unexpected disappearance of headliner B.o.B. Following a press release from B.oB’s manager, it has become clear that the popular rapper was one of the approximately 200 million Christians lucky enough to be welcomed into the radiant embrace of the Lord Almighty, an outspoken fan of B.o.B’s breakthrough hit, “Airplanes.”

“Although we apologize for the inconvenience to Northwestern University,” Adrian Levy, President of Grand Hustle Records read in a prepared statement, “we hope that you will join us in wishing B.o.B all the best in his future endeavors. This is quite the career move.”

Students reacted to the news with varied degrees of disappointment and downright agony, their heathen souls already plagued by the forces of Satan prior to their destruction and eternal damnation.

“It’s torture! It’s inhumane!” shrieked sophomore Jackie Thomas. “Satan told [Battle of the Bands winner] whysowhite that they could play a double-set! Oh, God, my ears!”

Others expressed anger at rumors that B.o.B’s ascension into Paradise came at the expense of another, more deserving human who had to be left behind. To find the answers to their questions, the ascetics turned to Jesus.

Jesus, who has been personally overseeing the destruction of Earth, could be found sitting in Norbucks.

“Why must Liu Xiaobo languish in a cell while B.o.B frolics in a land of everlasting peace and joy?” local atheist Alex Mercer asked between debilitating stints in an iron maiden.

“Look,” Jesus replied coolly, “my dad’s been working almost 6000 years without a break. If he wants a private performance of “Nothin’ On You” for the rest of eternity, well, I think he’s earned some time off.”

EVANSTON—Stefan Demos kicked a 45-yard game-tying field goal for Northwestern Saturday as angels ascended onto Ryan Field and Jesus appeared on the sideline to give Pat Fitzgerald a high-five. The Wildcats then went on to beat the Boilermakers in overtime.

“I’m just so happy we have such a solid, gentlemanly kicker,” said Weinberg junior David Weitzman. “If he missed, those fireworks at the end of the game would have been brutally ironic. Each sparkling flame that burst in the sky and trickled down would have reminded me of a season that could have been.”

“But that didn’t happen,” he added.

Demos, already well-known for winning Northwestern the Outback Bowl in 2010, has taken his game to a stunning level this season — he has not yet missed any extra points. “Drunk fans make those at commercial breaks,” said Demos, whose jersey is the hottest seller of all NU players — dead, alive, or fictitious. “I’m here solely for this purpose. If I couldn’t perform such an easy task, what good would I be?”

Demos, a lefty, has even kicked a couple field goals with his right foot just to mix things up. “It is nice to dispel the notion that the Wildcats are a joke of a football team,” said the kicker after the victory.

“It was also nice that Senate Republican Minority leader John Boehner and Senate Democratic Majority leader Harry Reid gave each other big hugs and decided to work together after my overtime game-winning field goal.”

EVANSTON—Several members of the Northwestern Women’s Lacrosse Team, who (hopefully) just won their fifth national championship in as many years, are able to turn water into wine and perform other miracles, according to several sources close to the team.

“We went to a party to celebrate the championship,” said senior leader Hannah Nielsen, “but it was already dry. Luckily, that’s no problem for us. They fetched us some tap water, and the party really got started.” Attendees of the party were amazed at the quality of the wine, and the iridescent rays of light that beamed down upon the team as they performed the miracle.

Later, team members were seen playing a quick pickup game of lacrosse on top of Lake Michigan. “They were just running and jumping on top of the water like Jesus or something,” said passing sophomore Jacob Herman, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

God, creator of the universe, was equally impressed by the team’s impressive feats. “Yeah, I created the world in seven days,” explained the benevolent deity, “but five straight national championships? From a Midwest school? Are you kidding me?”

With the lacrosse season out of the way, the team should have more free time for personal matters. “I’m planning on ending world hunger, myself,” explained team member Katrina Dowd, “but everyone has their own goals. I think Hannah [Nielsen] mentioned dying for our sins or something, whatever that means.”