It reminds me of my con-sketch anecdote. A guy asks for a sketch and I say 'Only if you're buying a book.' he says, 'Okay, what's the cheapest book you have?'.
"I'm selling the Bacchus Color Special at cover price, three bucks." 'Will you draw a sketch if I buy one of those?"
"yes." I sigh.
So he pulls out his pad. As I'm starting in, "Can you make it a drawing of me?"
So now he's making things difficult and I'm beginning to feel restless. But I start sketching the generality of his physiognomy. He butts in again: "Can you make it of me, but have me being stabbed to death by a London prostitute?"
Now I have to angle the thing so that he's falling over.
"And make the prostitute Marie Kelly."
I'm starting to feel pissed off now. I finish the job as quickly as I can.
At the last moment a thought occurs to me. I execute it.
As Marie Kelly murderously brings down that blade and the blood spurts, I give her a word balloon. In it she is saying: "Take that, you cheap bastard!" and I make sure it has the guy's name on it.
He seems pleased and thanks me.
Og svo er hér stutt hrifla um Júdasarguðspjallið:
When the National Geographic first heard that there was such a Gospel of Judas, several experts interpreted it the way we have basically always have interpreted Gnostic text. When we first heard about Gnostic texts, we were told that they were "weird"—"Gnostic", that meant they were the wrong kind of gospel, not like the "real" gospels.
But when (Harvard Professor) Karen King and I approach these texts, we treat each as another Christian gospel—another way that this powerful and strange and tangled story of betrayal was told by Jesus' followers in the decades after his death. We can't assume it tells us much about what happened between Jesus and Judas—it's probably guesswork, like all the other gospels—but it also offers a lot more than that: it places us right in the heart of the historical situation in the generations after his death.