Yesterday was an amazing day -- odd in the extreme. It began well enough, with an exceptionally good Bible lesson in Sunday school, but it quickly progressed from the sublime to the ridiculous. Our first hint of things heading south was that the usual suspects weren't standing around behind the pulpit before the service -- you know, Steve (the guy with the bass guitar), Tyler (the kid with the long hair and drumsticks) and Janet (the cheerful lady on the piano). When the service commenced, Gary (a former preacher, now investment salesman convert) walked up to the pulpit and began introducing a fellow salesman, who also happened to be "a phenomenal musician".
On cue this guy (who I swear is Tennessee Ernie Ford's doppleganger) strode up to the piano and slid onto the bench.
When Gary's five-minute intro had ended, Tennessee Ernie (without a word) instantly morphed into Liberace and began tinkling his syncopated medley of hymns and praise songs. Ten minutes into our non-singing song service, Tennessee burst into song -- not the basso profundo who snaps his fingers to "Fifteen Tons" -- but Bill Murray as the lounge singer from hell.
As God is my witness, the only thing missing was the brandy snifter full of one dollar bills. Thus it was, for a surreal 25-minutes we were witness to Tennessee Ernie Ford impersonating Liberace manning up as Bill Murray's Nick Winters, the nearly on-key lounge singer.
After this amazing musical performance, the preacher (he also being a pinch hitter) held forth on Romans chapter 8. As always, the Bible was good -- the exposition, well ... it was better than the song service.
After church we went to fetch Joyce's new computer (which had been promised be done with its software load on Saturday afternoon). So we spent an enjoyable lunch hour watching the "Geek Squad" feeding DVDs into Joyce's new machine. (It seems things had taken longer than the salesman had prognosticated -- go figure.) Actually, it was time well spent, as we could watch Joyce's new computer and I was able to redirect the computer technician's attention each time the process stopped to ask for user input. Eventually, the "Geek Squad" declared Joyce's new computer "very good" and we were allowed to proceed to the from door of the electronics store so we could be frisked for our receipt.
We grabbed burgers at McDonald's and went straight home so I could crawl on the floor routing cables from box to box. I'm not as spry as I used to be (though just as anal retentive as ever), so by the time Joyce's computer sprang to life we had only a couple of hours before the thunderstorm knocked out the B-phase of the primary fuse on the pole just down the block. Again, fate smiled upon us -- we're on the B-phase -- so we lit candles and waited. A trip to Walmart and a little more sitting in the dark later (one hour and 43 minutes later if you must know), a lineman had shoved the new fuse into the housing and we were again cooking. It was bedtime.
On cue this guy (who I swear is Tennessee Ernie Ford's doppleganger) strode up to the piano and slid onto the bench.
When Gary's five-minute intro had ended, Tennessee Ernie (without a word) instantly morphed into Liberace and began tinkling his syncopated medley of hymns and praise songs. Ten minutes into our non-singing song service, Tennessee burst into song -- not the basso profundo who snaps his fingers to "Fifteen Tons" -- but Bill Murray as the lounge singer from hell.
As God is my witness, the only thing missing was the brandy snifter full of one dollar bills. Thus it was, for a surreal 25-minutes we were witness to Tennessee Ernie Ford impersonating Liberace manning up as Bill Murray's Nick Winters, the nearly on-key lounge singer.
After this amazing musical performance, the preacher (he also being a pinch hitter) held forth on Romans chapter 8. As always, the Bible was good -- the exposition, well ... it was better than the song service.
After church we went to fetch Joyce's new computer (which had been promised be done with its software load on Saturday afternoon). So we spent an enjoyable lunch hour watching the "Geek Squad" feeding DVDs into Joyce's new machine. (It seems things had taken longer than the salesman had prognosticated -- go figure.) Actually, it was time well spent, as we could watch Joyce's new computer and I was able to redirect the computer technician's attention each time the process stopped to ask for user input. Eventually, the "Geek Squad" declared Joyce's new computer "very good" and we were allowed to proceed to the from door of the electronics store so we could be frisked for our receipt.
We grabbed burgers at McDonald's and went straight home so I could crawl on the floor routing cables from box to box. I'm not as spry as I used to be (though just as anal retentive as ever), so by the time Joyce's computer sprang to life we had only a couple of hours before the thunderstorm knocked out the B-phase of the primary fuse on the pole just down the block. Again, fate smiled upon us -- we're on the B-phase -- so we lit candles and waited. A trip to Walmart and a little more sitting in the dark later (one hour and 43 minutes later if you must know), a lineman had shoved the new fuse into the housing and we were again cooking. It was bedtime.
12 comments:
You have outdone yourself, dear. You have captured the flavor...the ambiance...
now how does one creep out of a "bad" service without offending anyone, and without running into the main preacher running in late from the hospital where his father lies with a collapsed lung??
any ideas? anyone???
Wow how did you keep a straight face. Do you have any idea how many times I have had a "coughing" fit because some "guest" muscian did their rendition of "How Great They Aren't"?
Oh and I heard you guys had a heck of a T-storm blow through. I was supposed to be there this weekend but had to put the trip on hold.
Oh and Joyce, that is when as I said you have a coughing fit. You husband escorts you out looking horrified and concerned as he puts you in the car and you speed away for a cure of Duncan Donuts and coffee.
Ah, we ALL need days like this. Just to keep our perspective, yanno?
Oops, I forgot to mention the drunken swarthy unintelligible charmers next door, all shouting at each other during the power outage.
(Well, truth is, they weren't entirely unintelligible -- I think I got the drift of: "mo-f'kin' bish ain' tell'n me nuffin I ain' figga ou' fo' m'sef.")
Nothing like Wal-Mart to polish off the day~ LOL
I love the coughing fit idea---but how does one not end up on the church prayer list? At our church, once on the prayer list, you have to die to get off of it.
hey, Joyce I just had an idea. The old fake coughing fit gag. That'll get you out of bad conversation, why not "bad/creepy" service. I haven't actually tried this but there have been times I wished JP and I had a signal in church and other places so we could put the emergency escape plan. :O)
deception at church?
what are we planning?
or, is it a desire to be tactful? discrete.
yes. Thank you for all the "bad" suggestions. "cool"
I still desire to sneak a glass snifter jar onto the piano and place in it a dollar. for tips. But, Bob said the Wednesday night kids would steal the dollar, and the glass would get broken. I wonder if they make clear plastic snifters?
I'm SO glad we have an old-fashioned priest that keeps the music very liturgical...I would have had a giggling fit under these circumstances!
Do you know about Dicey and Paprika, the divas of lounge beyond sanity?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zP5ggZRsNh8
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