This weekend, wedged in between all the rest of the excitement and hullabaloo, I did something completely unorthodox: I found Jesus! Imagine my surprise when I discovered the Son of God peering patiently from behind a plate glass window on 14th Street. (I refuse to divulge the exact location, because it is up to each individual to make this discovery on his own.)

However, now that the excitement has abated, I'm beginning to doubt my claim. I'm thinking maybe I didn't find Jesus at all. Maybe I found Barry Gibb.

Either way, not too shabby.