Massive religion

If anyone is offended by the following blog, I sincerely apologize from the bottom of my heart; I take full responsibility for you not knowing me well enough.

This morning I was reminded that Sunday is a day of rest for many; a time to reflect upon the week, think about one's life, and prepare thyself for the week upcomingeth that shall hence beforth be wrought with trials and tribulations, run-on sentences, and nonsensical rhetoric.

The southern TV evangelist was proclaiming the word of God across the cafeteria, where unfortunately it had fallen on deaf ears (even for some of the hearing). Now don't get me wrong! I respect religious freedom and choice, although I still can't quite get my head around getting up early on Sunday mornings (this is why churches always serve coffee and donuts – drug and sugar seductions…).

This particular parson was propped on his pulpit before a crowd of thousands in an arena somewhere in Texas (just where do all these Texans come from? I reckon McDonald's and Wal-Mart must have been closed for the Sabbath or something).

The scene is incredible; hundreds of people sitting peaceably before one man as he salutes the scripture with pregnant pauses, rising intonation, and horribly unfunny jokes. It's like a sporting event where the entire crowd has been slipped some Valium (check on that "special roast" from Maxwell House, there's something shady in that morning brew).

Now, I've watched a few of these TV programs, but I am yet to see a properly performed miracle on the glowing screen.

Having said that, I'd hate to see what would happen if tongues of flame started appearing on everyone's heads. Certainly a red-alert firecode evacuation of such a massive arena would be chaotic (just make sure the sprinklers are filled with holy water). What would Jesus do? Call 9-1-1 !!!

Seriously … if you want to improve Sunday morning TV ratings, the general public needs some major catastrophes or violence to capture their interest. More people would watch if sinners were body-slammed or smacked with chairs when filled with the spirit, not merely pushed dramatically to the floor.

But we'll have to ask the preacher to keep the miracles to a minimum for the sake of costs – I'm not sure where "pentecostal outbreaks" fits in on the insurance claim form.