So, we went to church yesterday for our niece’s baptism. Now, this isn’t the regular, run of the mill catholic church. It’s a local church that was started by a priest that was ex-communicated by Rome. I mean, you’re really got to piss them off to get ex-communicated. This priest is, well, let’s just say, very liberal and the Roman Catholic Church had enough of his shenanigans and gave him his walking papers. Try explaining that to your kids.
Anyway, so this church has this rocking choir that’s backed with electric guitars, drums, pianos and a whole bunch of other stuff. I mean, they really rock. I would pay to see this choir at almost any other time, but at 9:30 in the morning, it was way, way too much. I mean, the last thing I want at 9:30 on a Sunday morning is to be sitting in front of a sonic wall. It was just so loud it was almost painful. But then again, it was church, which is generally painful and un-enjoyable, so I guess it fit right in.
The other issue was what some of the girls in the choir were wearing. I mean really, do you need to wear the skin tight wife beater tee shirts, when you’re standing in front of the whole church? I really loved the one girl that had on the super tight shirt covering her huge rack and sporting camouflage pants standing in the front row. How the fuck am I supposed to pray for redemption of all my sins when I’m staring at that for 1 ½ hours? Hello? I’m here asking for forgiveness for all of the dirty thoughts I’ve had all week and you’ve got to dance and jiggle and hop all around in front of me? It’s like having booze at an AA meeting.
Ok, let me try to get back to what I wanted to talk about. Apparently, yesterday was Earth Day and this church had a “special” guest to talk about how the gospel and Earth Day go together. So this enlightened tart gives a meandering, 20 minute talk attempting to tie together the gospel reading, Earth Day and some absolutely meaningless, obscure references to her personal life. Look honey, I’m worried about saving my eternal soul and really wouldn’t give a wooden nickel (which, I really wouldn’t give up for anything, because aren’t wooden nickels really rare and worth something?) about your story of standing by the pond and singing to the moon.
She’s telling this story about how she was standing by this pond at night (as a side note, I think she is a single mother, and I couldn’t help wondering what her kids were doing at home, all alone, while she’s out soul searching at this pond at night) signing a song to the moon. It was a song that she had learned from someone that “honors” the moon. So there I am, stuck in this hot, oppressive church, wedged in between several of my children, thinking, who the fuck knows songs that honor the moon? Who bothers to memorize shit like that? Where ever this lady has been hanging out, it’s certainly in the wrong places with the wrong people who really have way too much time on their hands and need to get real jobs.
And I’ve got to put up with this crap for twenty minutes so we can watch some farcical, ex-communicated priest pour some tap water over my 8 month old nieces’ head and proclaim that all of a sudden her soul has been cleansed? WTF!
Please Lord, just take me now.
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