There are thirst traps, and then there’s Mark’s spiritual selfie saga—where “Ruach Hakodesh” meets “pickleball tournament” in one confusing hail-Mary serve for validation. Forget faith, works, or even common sense—the new path to enlightenment apparently starts with a bathroom-lighting selfie, a handful of hashtags, and a desperate “@followers” tag.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t a man sharing vibes. This is a man begging for traction. Traction for what, exactly? Who knows. The gospel of Mark (the Facebook edition) is less about eternal life and more about eternal likes.

His fuel source? Not prayer. Not peace. Not even pickleball. No, Mark is fueled entirely by the dopamine drip of social media notifications. Every like, every pity-comment, every share—it’s the incense offering he desperately craves to keep the fragile temple of his ego from crumbling.

And the hashtags? They read like a desperate slot machine pull:

• #meshiac — jackpot if someone thinks he’s deep.
• #yeshuahamashiach — double jackpot if someone thinks he’s holy.
• #pickleballislife — triple jackpot if someone thinks he’s athletic.

Spoiler: the machine is jammed, and the payout is zero.

Mark wants to be prophet, athlete, and influencer all in one shot. But what he actually looks like is a man alone on a patio chair, frantically uploading selfies in hopes someone—anyone—will tell him he’s relevant. Attention isn’t his hobby, it’s his lifeline. Without it, he collapses like a badly strung pickleball net.

The Book of Selfies, Chapter 1

1. And lo, Mark lifted his iPhone unto the heavens, saying: “Chilling good vibes, Ruach Hakodesh let’s go.”
2. And the people looked upon the post, and they saw that it was… cringe.
3. And he spake again, saying unto the void: “@followers.”
4. Yet the void replied not, for the followers had scrolled on, weary of his hashtags and heavy with secondhand embarrassment.
5. And it came to pass, Mark did thirst not for water, nor for righteousness, but for the dopamine of likes.
6. For verily, he that seeketh validation in the land of Facebook shall wander forever in the desert of irrelevance.

So here we are, watching yet another episode of “As the Ego Turns.” A man who claims divine calling, but whose true mission is less about leading souls and more about leading followers—straight into the comment section.

Because at the end of the day, Mark isn’t chasing God. He isn’t even chasing pickleball glory. He’s chasing the one thing he’s always chased: the illusion of mattering. And sadly, all he’s left with are hashtags, selfies, and a dwindling pool of “followers” he has to beg for by tagging them directly.