As the piss-drunk Jesus sitting next to me so dickishly exclaimed when I snapped this pic, “THAT'S THE WORST FUCKING MR. PICKLE'S I'VE EVER SEEN!”

… says a guy dressed in a toga and a shit-brown sash.

See, tackling a cylindrical Mission icon like Mr. Pickle is no fucking joke. You need two pepper-filled bandoliers, some way of mimicking his bloated, vinegar-riddled body without sacrificing mobility, and a hat the size of some small adults.  Never mind figuring out a way to carry around delicious veggie Station 7 lathered in pesto without being accosted by every famished boy and girl in dire need of some hot sando action.

While all this truth was being broken down to shitty Jesus, Mr. Pickle remained cool and collected—staying above the fray, quietly guzzling bourbon while Jesus continued to hurl ineffectual insults.  The tactic worked; eventually Jesus backed down and shifted his energy to molesting a bottle of zinfandel.

So next time Your Savior is tanked and talking trash, just ask yourself: What Would Mr. Pickle Do?