Showing posts with label damned organized religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label damned organized religion. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

My Pastor is on Vacation

Hell is for Heathens
I knew I was screwed. I should of known I was screwed. But it's like paying taxes. The stuff eventually catches up with you, and then, you are totally screwed. Just when I thought I had more than enough in the HOLY column...then... KA-FOOKIN-BOOM!!!... and I'm back in the HEATHEN, BURN IN HELL column, again.
God is either keeping me around for laughs, or I got a real Clarence for a guardian angel.
Here's why...
My regular Pastor (#1) goes on vacation, which happens every summer. Then my #2 Pastor, a true blue bonifide California blond-headed lazy butt, takes over. Now that may sound good and all but...enter Pastor#3, Mr Minister of Music.
The guy's a Nazi. My regular Pastor keeps Hitler in check, sorta, and I can appreciate that, but when he's gone then Pastor Hitler (#3) pretty much takes over. I will tell you right now that Pastor#3 is a pencil-necked-geek. He even plays guitar, and yet the Fuhrer (Pastor#3) hates country & western music. Is that sick or what?
Well...when Pastor#1 is here, he keeps the Nazi Minister of Music (Pastor#3) limited to about 20 minutes of music. However when Pastor#1 is gone...Nazi Pastor#3 orders us to our feet, and gives us all direction, as if we're in the damned choir! He's a pompous ass and says crap like..."You're a little slow to your feet this morning. So let's try this again and sing Stand Up for Jesus"! I'm steamed. This goes on for 45 minutes, which lazy butt Pastor#2 loves, 'cause now he's only gotta preach for 3 or 10 minutes, depending on who all is dead, dying, having surgeries, thinks they are dying, think they may have a surgical procedure done one day, or wedding anniversary's. Then we're singing these suck-ass songs he likes (from the 90's) over and over. I've heard Majesty so many times, that if I hear it once more, I'm gonna hurl on a church elder. Me? What do I want? I just want to smote the Pastor-Nazi who somehow escaped the Nuremberg trials, something fierce.
So let's go to this past Sunday...

I have a dream!
Now... knowing that the musical services always begin with the "Pastor Hitler Music Man Show and Sing Along Marathon" I just figure I'll drag my feet in the morning so we'll arrive late and miss all of Pastor Adolph's "American Baptist Idol" or "Sing Better than a Choir of 5th Graders" shows. While I admit it was a great plan that I personally formulated over some alcoholic beverages on Saturday night, I think God had a different plan in store for my baptized ass. Ya see, we walked in late, and there was Pastor#2 already well into his sermon. I'm thinking... WAY COOL... we'll be outta here in no time! But as I listen, I realize the sermon is about being flexible. That dirty lazy-butted-dog-of-a-Pastor(#2) has gone and done a change-up, on ME! Get the picture? Lazy Butt Pastor#2 has started this service off with his preaching first, so now I'm stuck with having to go through the entire "Reichstag Music Review" with Herr Pastor#3.

The Great Escape (almost)
Oh crap! As in baseball, the wife "read my signals". She was blocking my escape. Family honor, my ass! Church, hell! I go for broke and make a break for it! Just as I was leaping over the backs of some peoples heads and chairs, to make my escape, my son puts his red Karate belt to work. I'm not sure what the move was but I think it was a WWE Choke Slam, using my tie, or maybe he Tomb-stoned my ass? I just don't know. But I was grateful for the fact that I was unconscious for a full five minutes and missed some of that gawd awful music. As I got up off the floor, someone yelled "He Is Risen"! Though my ears were ringing, I could hear the congregation singing Onward Christian Soldier. I massaged my throat. My wife handed me half a box of Kleenex to help stop the river of blood flowing from my now, broken nose. I looked at my son. He mouthed the words..."I'm sorry, Dad". What a great kid! Lightning fast and strong too! My wife smiled sweetly, handed me a raw steak to put on my swollen right eye. I was in and out of consciousness, but we must'a stood and sang those lame ass'd songs for over an hour. Yes, you got me good, God. But it pisses me off. If anybody deserves to burn in hell over this post...it's Pastor#3 of First Baptist Church!