Letters from Kamp Krusty

When Relevance = Ew.

I don't know what to say about this whole thing.  Other than it strikes me as a little creepy. 

It's not creepy that "God wants (me) to have a great sex life":  It's creepy that Pastor Wirth in Tampa wants me to have a great sex life. 

No -- wait:  What's creepy is I don't know Pastor Wirth, and now, I'm thinking about Pastor Wirth's sex life. 

You see, I believe 1) There is a God, 2) God may want Pastor Wirth to have a great sex life, and 3) God doesn't really want me thinknig about it, because, 4) God cries when I throw up.

I've heard it before:  "Well, God created sex, so, obviously, we can talk about it, in frank terms, during an oration in front of a large crowd of worshipers." 

God made our rear-ends, too, but -- thankfully, at least in irrelevant churches -- the pastor keeps his covered.  Turns out, God made everything, but there are times, and places, for everything.  That's why some of us aren't comfortable with, say, a couple -- even a married one! -- making out in the pew in front of us during the next Tomlin song.  Let's agree, sex is the most fun thing to do, ever, but "How Great is Your Bod" may not be appropriate for the worship set just yet.

What's more, if I went to "Relevant Church", I wouldn't want to be looking around the room, wondering who's taking the 30-day challenge, and who isn't.  What about Gladys and Myron, in row 14, over there?  I've noticed they drive a smokin' Ford Taurus.

Come to think of it, I don't want Myron wondering about me, and I don't want to think about whether Myron is wondering if Gladys is wondering about Pastor Wirth.   

And let's admit, having a Pastor say, "God and I want you to have great sex!!!" is tantamount to your uncle, looking in the living room at you and your teen friends, and saying, "You guys are just having too much fun in here!!!"

Yeah.  We were.  Until you said that.

So, after full consideration regarding this outreach program:  Ew.  If this is relevance, I'll take ignorance.

Your Best Pecs Now

Know what stinks?  I can't even beat up Joel Osteen.

He was on 60 MInutes last night (watch it here and thanks Paul for tipping me off) and he can bench 300 pounds.  Dang it.

Not that I was going to try to beat him up.  I do think, sometimes, a person has to use force, though.  I'm not like pacifist Stanley Hauerwas, and I think not all use of force, in every possible situation, just has to be evil, no matter what, even if it's motivated by love to save the innocent, and it's just wrong, so there, and net effect never matters, lives rescued never matters, the motive of the heart just never matters,it's just always wrong.  I'm not him.

That's because I think there are rare situations when violence is justified.  Like, say, if Joel Osteen was in a bank, holding people hostage with his biceps, and sequentially eliminating them with his bare hands, two at a time, and I was the only SWAT team member available, and I had to fist-fight him.  I think Thomas Aquinas would say I was justified in throwing down against Joel Osteen.

Trouble is, I think I'd lose, even in this "just war"-type scenario.

Or, say, there was a nuclear device, ready to take out a major American city, and I knew it was going off in 30 seconds, and Joel Osteen was standing in the doorway, refusing to move.  I think I'd be justified in pushing him down, and so does Augustine, but Stanley Hauerwas doesn't, and it doesn't matter now, because Joel can out-bench me.  Kaboom.

I guess I could still beat up Stanley Hauerwas.  And so can my daughter.  Still, there's solace there.  Without question, I could thrown down on Augustine, in what would now likely be a grisly spectacle, but that's not my point here.

My point is that this really bugs me.  Joel's richer than I am, his teeth are far whiter, his minivan is newer, and his dogs have all four of their legs.  And here I work out pretty hard, and can bench probably like 275 or something.  And Joel does 300? 

Real encouraging, Joel.  Thanks.  I stink.

Winner: Kamp Krusty "Most Awkward Use of Sermon Visuals" Award

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CAUTION:  Adult-Oriented, Bread-Themed Sermon Material

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My good friend Chris, told me this story a couple years ago about his middle-America church, and I've been itching to blog it, but never felt I had permission. 

That is, until he commented in a thread a couple items below about trying-not-to-laugh moments:

Our pastor, who is rather distant at times, was doing a teaching on communion, and put a slide up during the teaching, to emphasize the point that 'bread is life'.

Some of the more art-sensitive people noticed something about the slide, and had to look away.  Some of the teen-aged boys noticed it too, and the snickering started.  The pastor didn't notice.

And some gasping.  But it gets worse:

After the teaching, he called the ushers forward to serve communion and instructed the video person to put that slide back up so that we could meditate upon it. 

Various subdued reactions from muted laughter to restrained retching as people contemplated the image...then our campus minister went to the back and convinced the video person to go to a black screen.

"Ladders-n-Ladders"?

Apparently, there's a Joel Osteen board game. 

Ironically, I can't afford it.  Please pray with me that I will own it soon. 

I took a shot at guessing what the game board looked like (below) -- but then Albert sent me a link to some pics of the actual board. 

When you see the actual board, you will note:  This game cannot be mocked.  Not because one shouldn't lampoon it, but because one simply can't.

   

This Entry Has No Title (Updated -- Now Fair and Balanced!)

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They took a stand.

I'm seriously trying not to cry.

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And now, the church's side of the story.  My apologies for originally linking only to the FOX story, it's all I had. 

May not change your opinion, but it certainly made me wish I'd read it before posting the FOX story, alone.  Again, my apologies.

I Believe Wendy Was Mentioned in Revelation 9

This is a real dog named Wendy. 

Apparently, Wendy, a whippet, was born with a "defect":  double muscles.  Wendy lives in Canada.

Let us come together for prayer.  Let us kneel, humbly, and ask that Wendy never gets rabies, or it's lights-out, North America.

This Idea...You Know. It Sucks.

This is a great idea. 

It's one of those obvious ones.  After all:  Who says you can't siphon your own offspring's mucus?

Seriously, who says that? 

No one says that. 

So here you go.  (HT:  Soebs)

Now, sure, the little-blue-squeeze-ball-thing-with-the-pointy-deal works just fine.  Even the kidz love it.

And it's free at the hospital (with purchase of baby delivery) but it doesn't have nearly the Euro-earthy cachet that this thing has.

The real, and obvious benefit:  The kid will grow up, fast.  When he's 17, standing with his friends watching, griping about not getting to borrow your 2016 Ford Focus, smarting off -- you break it out: 

UH, EXCUSE ME?  I PERSONALLY SIPHONED THE GOOBERS OUT OF YOUR NOSE, YOUNG MAN. 

Should put an end to it.  To everything, really.