12:14 p.m. - 2002-11-22
Religious Tourism
We got a flyer from one of the local holy roller churches yesterday. It was addressed to "The Child Of God At:". Well, at least that's snazzier than "Current Resident."
The flyer was advertising a series of Christmas events that the church was putting on, in hopes of luring new idiots, uh, I mean, members, uh, I mean, Children of God. Among the offerings was "A Cappucino and Christ Christmas." I had this fantastic image of the baby Jesus with a Starbucks cup and a biscotti. Or perhaps a full-grown Jesus with that groovy beard shaped into a goatee, a black beret and turtleneck sweater, lounging at Le Figaro on Bleeker street with an expresso and a book of William Carlos Williams poems in his hand.
Or Ferlinghetti. "A Coney Island Of The Mind". Yup, I think Jesus is a Ferlinghetti kinda' guy.
So what on earth was the description of this forthcoming blessed event? I quote:
"Ready for a miracle? Anticipate the birth of a Christmas baby with the excitement of Lisa and Jeff, as their lives intertwine with the Holy Family in a night of wonder and expectation. This exuberant Christmas celebration features musical favorites by the Cappuccino and Christ worship bands in a contemporary and casual setting."
The front of the flyer has a photo of a girl who looks all of 13 dressed as the Virgin Mary. I guess The Holy Spirit is a pedophile. She's holding a baby who looks rather too old to be a newborn Jesus. Like maybe two years too old.
Wow. I'm just soooo glad I live in Alabama. Where else would I get first class schlock such as this in my mailbox?
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I'm actually tempted to go. One of Bruce's graduate students, Angel, used to talk about the idea of religious tourism: going to different weird churches just to see what wacky things people did. We had planned to go to the snake handler's church in New Hope (I'm convinced that tornadoes always seem to go through New Hope because of this church. God doesn't like people who mess with His reptiles.) but Angel got accepted to the Ph.D program at Washington State before we could get up our courage and buy our snakebite kits.
I miss Angel. She was wonderfully funny, a product of a strange hippie childhood. Her father had been cohabiting with two women when Angel was born and she has a halfbrother who is about six months younger than she is.
And guess what this halfbrother's name is? Go on, guess! You'll never guess!
It's Lucifer! I'm not kidding! That's what happens when your parents are taking LSD at five in the morning.
The real punchline, though, is what Lucifer grew up to become. He's a firefighter! It's so strangely appropriate!
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