He wrote the book of love. He wrote the Book of Mormons. He dabbled in Buddhism but it slipped thru his fingers like water. So much open-ended eternity made his head spin.
He slammed out the Koran and set to work lopping off fingers. In his spare time he knocked out manifestos and constitutions.
He milked the Bible dry, it was his mother lode. Turn the other cheek he’d tell his not-too-swift followers, and when they did he’d deliver the Judas kiss while lifting their wallets.
From time to time he’d go on vacation, a spree of child molestation and date rape and an ocean of drugs. This was necessary because of how the world misunderstood him. But he always forgave everyone and settled down again to write a new script for salvation.