"What!" I was riveted, bemused, bewildered. Humbled.
"Jesus Island" it read in lush, tropical script.
What the hell kind of place is Jesus Island? My mind was racing! Edging ever closer to the car in front of me, I really needed to know more about this magical place. Is this where whores and the downtrodden sunned and surfed? Where things most hedonistic were forgiven, and buildings well constructed? A place where the only smote-ing was of the rock lobster and bathing suits? An island of supernatural beauty — where no hurricane would ever disrupt a honeymoon ever again? This sounds like my kind of place!
I mean, this is JESUS ISLAND.
When the ethereal lights from my fellow traffic shone true on the license plate frame advertising my salvation and eternal happiness, I saw that it actually read "Jesus Is Lord."
Well, no shit.
What a typographic disaster! A plain old piece of poor kerning and an even worse script font... my heart sunk. I mean, I really thought that I had stumbled onto something. Jesus Island, man. I mean, JESUS F-ING ISLAND!
By my own suppositions, I regard Jamaica will have to be close enough.
