Let the People of the Church Say, “Amen!”

When the church bells have finished ringing and the congregation has silenced their whispered gossip, uneasily awaiting the liturgical dance ministry to pop, lock and drop it down the center aisle, wearing the same freak ‘em dresses and f—k me pumps they wore to the club just hours before brushing their teeth and spraying on a quart of the perfume they bought from the 24 hour convenient store, that’s when you know church is in session.

Church has always been the one place where gang-bangers, hoes, and addicts are the most looked down upon and talked about, yet the one place where most faith-filled persons invite these sinners to come, until one sinner dared to stand before the congregation to challenge the sins of the saved versus the lost souls who come to the alter to seek deliverance.

The man who fell prey to the grips of the world stood before a sea of big hats, dark suits and baby mamas too young to tell what the phrase, “wet behind the ears” really means, and dared them all to stand before a mirror to judge themselves before huddling in a prayer circle to condemn the sins of he who needed to be saved.

“Mother Granola Crack,” he called from the church front, pointing his finger in acknowledgement of the seasoned church goer, “…you should be ashamed of yourself to turn your nose up at the children who are singing God’s praises with 16 bars of rap verses when it is all but public knowledge that your granddaughter has bedded just about half of the boys in the choir, as well as the drummer who plays the beat of the percussion.  Deacon Whatshisface should be the first one standing before the alter begging for merciful forgiveness for shouting “Hallelujah!” this morning, when last night he was standing outside of the liquor store shouting obscenities in malice and jest. Brother Pastor Preacher Man should be condemned to a pit of his own deceit as he preaches a word against homosexuality, knowing full well his partner is the one who picked out the First Lady’s handbag and matching shoes.”

The church members clutched their pearls and gasped their breaths in awe as the fallen soul pointed from one member to another.  He pointed to the usher standing at the door of the vestibule and shook his head in disgrace.

“You, my friend, are not guarding the door to God’s house.  You are waiting for your next customer to approach you for their next fix.  You are watching for the men in blue who’ve been peeping you under surveillance for the last 6 weeks.  You are blocking the entry way from your baby’s mama, to whom you owe backed child support.  You aren’t keeping the devil out. You are half-heartedly hiding amongst people wearing Satan’s garments in an effort to disguise your own devilish ways.”

Quickly he pulled the microphone from its stand and recited the following words as he peered upon the church’s trustees:

“I hope you don’t bother to release the hounds on those members who have not yet paid their pledges, dues or tithes, because it would be awfully hypocritical of you when the church’s electric bill is past due and the mortgage company has sent out a third warning notice of eviction.  However I will commend you on the new cushions on these hard ass pews, and the flat screen TV inside the Brother Pastor Preacher Man’s study.  You probably think no one knows what goes on underneath the table, but you can’t and shouldn’t forget how much church folk talk.”

With genuine eyes, he turned to gaze upon Brother Pastor Preacher Man to offer a head nod as acknowledgement of apology for pulling his card.

“You see,” he continued, “I don’t stand before you to point out your sins for the mere satisfaction of seeing you sweat inside your expensive Brooks Brothers suits and Lane Bryant skirts, as enjoying as it may be.  I stand before you to let you know that all have sinned and fallen short of His word.  You nicely dressed heathens have some praying to do for yourselves before you pray falsities upon me.  I may not rise to your once-a-week Sabbath day standards, but I am high on my Father’s list and I know that my work is unfinished because God ain’t through with me yet.  I stand here to be used as a vessel as no truer words have ever been spoken:  Wherefore whosoever shall eat this bread, and drink this cup of the Lord, unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord.  But let a man examine himself and so let him eat of that bread and drink of that cup.  For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the Lord’s body.  For this cause many are weak and sickly among you, and many sleep.  For if we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged.  1 Corinthians 11:27-31.”

At the very moment when the church would usually gather their voices in harmony to recite the ever popular, “Amen!” not a single soul uttered a word, except for the lost souls who came into the sanctuary genuinely seeking salvation and the one man who brought his own communion wine who sadly raised his bottle in the air and said, “I’ll drink to that!”


Quote of the week:   “How will you spend eternity — smoking or non-smoking?”


For more funny play house praise, be sure to pick up your copy of Hottywood Helps’ new book, “Tracks of an Underground Advice Columnist” and get your dance on with the members of The Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle!

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There is One in Every Bunch

If you’ve ever thought to yourself, “There’s one in every bunch,” let me be the one to tell you that you’re not the only one.  Whether you are good friends with a group of guys/gals, a barrage of church folk, or fairly courteous to a department full of coworkers, ‘One in Every Bunch’ usually singles out the one rotten apple in the barrel – the creep; the jackass; the hater; the brat; the complainer; even the whore.  They are the ones that make sucking on poisonous rusty nails look kind of tasty.  Let’s take a closer look, shall we? 

Around the way… 

Everyone knows that getting to know your neighbors is a double-bladed sword.  The upside is that you get to have your own personal watch dogs when you’ve partied so hard that the only thing you can see are bright lights, or when you’re so tired that your eyes only see the darkness of your closed eyelids.  It’s good to have neighbors around to borrow sugar or bum a ride or to get the latest neighborhood gossip.  But in every neighborhood there is one resident that should be banned from the island of normalcy.  It’s usually the neighbor that blasts their music at 2am, or the neighbor that smokes weed all day and night, or the neighbor that peeks into your window or holds a glass against the wall for a better reception while you’re having sex, or the neighbor that steals your newspaper, or the neighbor that never speaks.  

No matter what nuisance that [particular] neighbor holds under his/her belt, in every neighborhood there is always one neighbor that you wish would move out, either by choice or by force.  If you live an apartment building, I really don’t know what to tell you.  Well I do actually, but if my neighbor gets a hold of this, he’ll know I was the one that did what I’m fighting myself not to tell you to do.  If you live in a house, a bag full of fresh hot doggy doo will almost always provide you the satisfaction of telling that single bad one in the bunch that their sh*t stinks. 

At the office… 

I could go on and on about the jerks in the office.  There’s the lady that can’t do anything by herself, or the chick that asks a ton of questions just when it’s time for the staff meeting to end, or the guy that emails or calls you about twenty times a day to explain to him the basics of a Microsoft Windows application…like how to print and save.  The truth of the matter is one will not and can not take up an occupation where they are not annoyed with their coworkers, unless of course they work for themselves out of their kitchen, attic, basement or backyard shed.  And even still there are times when one gets irritated with one’s self.  Those annoyances are to be expected.  But in every office, there is one person who is the biggest asshole out of the rest.  

He/She is the one whose work ethics, manners and/or attitude is synonymous with a truck stop bathroom commode after a bus load of people that ingested multiple numbers of #4 Taco Bell combo meals with fire hot sauce have bombarded the facilities with explosions of juicy ass gas and butt droppings.  If you happen to work at an office with this kind of butt wipe, your best bet is to quit, or rub two stones together until you spark a fire big enough to burn that coworker’s cubicle to the ground. 

At church… 

It is no secret that church is a place of reverence and worship.  It is a place of peace and communion with everyone’s main man, J. Christ.  It is a place of good music and good preaching, or a place where everyone says “Amen” no matter how bad the music or preaching is.  It is a place filled with people of like spirit and beliefs.  It is also a place where you’ll find at least one person who mocks the name of all that is holy.  In every church there is one brother or sister who spreads gossip like hoes spread their legs.  Or one deaconess that has been with the church since the laying of the first brick whose face is permanently mugged.  Or one alcoholic that comes to church only on communion Sunday for a shot of communion wine.  Or one lead singer that think his/her voice is the best thing since sliced bread, only not good enough to earn himself a recording deal with a major or minor record label.  Or one minister who’s tainted reputation overshadows the light that shines over the pulpit.  Or one usher that falls asleep on the job.  Or one kid that isn’t liked by anyone – child or adult.  

If you attend a church where one of these ones attend, just put yourself out of your misery by slicing yourself to death with the edges of your church bulletin.  If you’re going to die, the two best places to do it are church and the hospital.  Popeyes would be the next best place to die if you just had to have three choices on your list. 

At the mall… 

As if shopping isn’t a hard enough task in itself, in every mall across the country, shoppers must deal with at least one person that loads all of the sale items into their shopping cart, or one shopper that buys everything one size too small in a wasted effort to lose some much necessary weight, or one shopper that refuses to try his/her clothes on inside an actual fitting room, or one shopper that pays their final bill in nothing but dimes and nickels, or one shopper that picks up a piece of merchandise with no price tag on it, prompting the cashier to leave the register to investigate the price of the product, or one shopper who talks on their cell phone loud enough for the entire store to hear the conversation, or one serial coupon shopper.  

There really isn’t a way around the unsubtle shopper, unless of course you stick with online shopping and run the risk of someone hacking into your personal information, i.e. bank card, bank account, social security numbers, etc.  Or you can be like one of my neighbors and just rob people on the street that have what you want.  Just remember you can’t escape from karma, the police or a good ass whooping. 

If you’ve never heard the expression “there’s one in every bunch,” then I am elated to be the one to introduce it to you.  If after reading this post, you still don’t understand what the expression means, then you’re the one that needs to take your ass back to school to do a little bit more studying on comprehension.  I guess as in everything else, in every learning circle, there is one dummy that doesn’t learn a damn thing. 

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Quote of the Week:  “Stress is when you wake up screaming and suddenly realize you haven’t fallen asleep yet.”

 

The Church Sees Red When the Choir Sings the Blues

Is it legal to talk about your fellow brothers and sisters in Christ when it comes to them getting up on the microphone to completely butcher a song on Sunday morning? Seriously, who is more at fault – the soloist for thinking they can sing when they sound more like they’re being attacked; the director/pianist for encouraging the soloist to open their mouth to do anything except eat; or the congregation for hollering and throwing their hands up in deceitful praise when they know what they’re really doing is praying for a miracle for the good Lord to send “mute buttons” down from heaven?

Whether you can actually sing or simply look pretty in a choir robe, church is the one place where it’s acceptable for you to make an ass out of yourself. Unlike the karaoke bar, no drunken lushes will boo you off the stage. Well, it kind of depends on what church you go to but that’s a whole other story. Church is the one place where you simply can not tell everyone what’s on your mind unless you have a biblical reference to back up your comments. And let’s be honest, where is the scripture for telling someone they sound a melodic mess?

Regardless of whether you’re sitting in the congregation with bleeding ears or with heavy eyes, your responsibility as a follower of your faith is to put on the cloak of mendacity for the sake of your fellow man. Sadly when church is over and that same musical monstrosity has approached you just beyond church grounds to ask how you enjoyed the selection(s), as a faith fellow church goer, you must swallow your burning cigarette butt, put your hand over your heart and lie like the devil as you tell Bro. or Sr. So & So that when they opened their mouth, rocks Angels fell from heaven. Whatever you do, just be cognizant of the weather when you begin lying through the gaps between your teeth. Rain, lightning bolts and the magnetic metal tip on the top of your umbrella will be God’s funny little way of saying, “The jokes on you.”

Always remember, lying to encouraging people is not that hard. All it takes is a little effort. Thank goodness 90% of any effort is getting started. The rest of your bullsh*t will flow like the River of Jordan.

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Quote of the week:  “A church is a place in which gentlemen that have never been to heaven brag about it to persons who will never get there.”

Are You a Tithing Member of Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle? Rate Yourself.

It doesn’t take much to become a member of Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle.  With a little laziness, scandal and some effort in being trifling, you too can have courtside seats at the devil’s arena.  Just be sure to pack a water bottle because things tend to get hot! 

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You’ve shown up for church hung over from the night before.  20 points 

You’ve brought your own communion wine to church.  60 points 

You’ve hooked up with another church member during service.  60 points  If that church member was the pastor, a deacon or deaconess, add 40 points. 

You use curse words in your prayers.  10 points 

You are a choir director but can not sing and only listen to hardcore rap.        10 points 

Your church bylaws come from a Hollywood gossip magazine or some variation of a national inquirer.  40 points 

You’ve re-enacted the Lord’s supper or the Last supper at a McDonald’s food chain.  30 points 

You’ve shown up for church without wearing any underwear.  10 points 

You’ve shown up for church wearing someone else’s underwear.  20 points 

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***      

Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle  Membership Rating  

0 – 60              You are almost but not quite a serious sinner. 

61 – 100          You either need Jesus or a psychiatrist.

101 – 160        You need to be hosed down with holy water. 

161 – 300        Pack your bags for a permanent vacation to hell!   

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 **Let us all remember that a church that prays together stays together.**

Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle Sunday Worship Guide

Sunday, July 17, 2011

12:07 pm 

El gran libro de los tacos gratis por un dólar noventa y cinco

Page 129, 1st Verse:  Satan gave me a taco. 

   
Call to Worship, Invocation…………………… Pastor Shugart Do Right Puss Bump
   
Processional……………………………………… Give It To Me Right Senior Choir & 6” High Heel Chorus
   
Selection………………………………………….. Give It To Me Right Senior Choir
   
Scripture Reading……………………………… Heratio Fellatio Jenkins, Jr.

Book of Dru Hill 1:16 ~ Somebody’s Sleeping in My Bed (KJV)

   
Prayer……………………………………………… Sister Nita Mindyo Bidness
   
Welcome………………………………………….. Elder Eunice “Granny Cakes” Wilya PooPoo
   
Church Announcements………………………. Gabby Gossip, Church Clerk
   
Selections………………………………………… 6” High Heel Chorus featuring The Heaven’s Gates Pitbull Band
   
Tithes and Offering…………………………….. Brother Day Day and the Get Back Crew
   
Offertory Prayer/Response………………….. Deacon Pimp Gigolo
   
Meditational Solo……………………………….. LaQuisha ShaQuan Odell Muhfukin Palmer

“There’s a Place in Hell Even for Me” 

 

Gospel Message……………………………….. Pastor Shugart Do Right Puss Bump
   
2nd Offering for the Feed the First Family So They Never Have to Spend Their Own Money in the Grocery Store Fund……………………… Pastor’s Aide Ministry,   Brother Carl BeatUDown, President
   
Invitation to Discipleship…………………….. Pastor Shugart Do Right Puss Bump and the Minister’s Mistresses of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle
   
Benediction……………………………………… Pastor Shugart Do Right Puss Bump

 *Chicken wings and french fries served in the lower auditorium for a small fee of a $6.95 free-will offering (plus tax). Jumbo iced-tea lemonade mix not included.* 

↓ 

**CHURCH ANNOUNCEMENTS** 

Special Notice: Free Will Offering

There will be a $5.00 minimum cover charge for all meals served under the Free Will Offering Meals on Wheels program to get new spinners for Mother May’s 10 speed bike and training wheels.  All meals will still be served at the corner of 5th and Stank, between the Laundromat and Sam’s Carwash. 

-Mother Beatrice My Man’s a Ho Mays, MMBT Meals on Wheels, Chairperson

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 Mass Choir Rehearsal

Thursday, July 28, 2011

All choirs are asked to meet at Roscoe’s Poles and Holes next Thursday instead of the church sanctuary.  The church is being evaluated for new disco balls and therefore must be vacant during evaluation consultation.  Members are asked to brush their teeth before showing up for rehearsal because the facility is kind of small. 

-Briefcase Daddy O., Minister of Music

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Ice Cream Social

Friday, July 29, 2011

The Youth Department, aka, Young Hoodlums in Training, will hold an ice cream social for all persons who are not as big as cows and do not have an intolerance for dairy products.  Be advised that those who violate the stipulations of the invite will burn in hell.

-MMBT Youth Department

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Special Prayer Request

Please remember in prayer all persons who get caught stealing credit cards and use them to illegally sell gasoline to bystanders at the gas station in return for dollars to later hit up the liquor store for fabricated communion indulgence.  There has been a string of occurrences near the pump station over by Roscoe’s Poles and Holes.  

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Bout Damn Time Health Ministry

The ministry of fat asses will meet next Tuesday at 7pm.  Please enter through the double doors at the side street entrance. 

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 **Let us all remember that a church that prays together stays together.**

Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle

My brothers and sisters, I have one question for you today.  Is the safest place on Earth no longer safe?   In this new day and age of time we have embarked on an era of deception, ridicule, blather and lies.  Sadly, we aren’t talking about the normality of water cooler gossip.  We instead are talking about the deep roots of the fallen church, better known to some as the Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle.  

Christian Brother suits, Armani neckties, and Donna Vinci suits for the misses with matching handbags are what a lot of microwave church goers are more concerned with these days rather than the good news of the great Word.  Today, church members are less impressed by the [church] bulletin and more intrigued by the garments that wrap the toned bodies of the deacons and trustees and their lovely wives.  But if you haphazardly remove those expensive tailored suits, the one thing you are left with is the dirty old bones that the instant brothers and sisters in Christ paid so much money to hide.  

No matter what church or denomination (however we can’t possibly be referring to any other church other than the Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle because everyone else’s place of worship is too holy for the sins of heathens), preachers are preaching one thing and are secretly getting away with the stuff they tell us are unholy; deacons are co-signing their preacher’s teachings in an effort to get promoted to pastor’s ace-boom-koom; trustees aren’t to be trusted with the funds that pour into the collection baskets and seemingly all goes down the drain; the nurses are too hungover to tend to the sick and shut in; the choirs are too tired from popping that thang in front of the pulpit; the security ministry can’t be found because they’re out on the corner making a transaction for their nameless glaucoma issues; and the ushers can’t make it to church on time to separate the full blown heathens from the heathens-in-training.  

What has the church come to?!  

First our babies are having babies, then clergymen are laying hands on young boys; holy women are doing unholy things under linens that aren’t pure as snow; tithes are paying light bills that refuse to shine on the truth, and the free-will offering comes with a price tag.  Pretty soon dirty laundry will be aired out over the pulpit or duked out over a battle of the bands from beyond the choir stand.  

Has it really come to the point where church goers only attend church for fear of missing out on the latest Sunday-worthy “Do Tell”?  How many people can answer the questions, “What’s the first and last book in the bible?” or “Which book rests in the center?”  “What’s the difference between the Lord’s supper and the last supper?”  or “What time does 8 o’clock service begin?” 

Well at the Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle, 8 o’clock service begins any time you open your eyes after getting in from the club, or dismissing the stranger you met last night on Easy Street from your bedroom, or after you’ve belched up your last residual gassage of Hennesy and coke.  Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle is the worship center where all are welcomed and none are judged.   At least that’s what they’re printing on their mass mail orders for monetary donations to the “Get John John & Lil Man Out of Jail” fund.   Thank heavens 90% of any effort is getting started, otherwise where in the hell would we be?  Let the people of the church say, “Amen.”

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Quote of the week:  “A man is accepted into a church for what he believes and he is turned out for what he knows.” – Mark Twain

Sleep In Late to Avoid a Black Eye!

Here we go again – another morning where the alarm clock’s death must be blamed on suicidal behavior.  Who does a guy have to screw to get a few extra hours of sleep around here?  Ladies and gentlemen, if you didn’t know, the #1 cause of early morning violence stems from the substantial lack of a.m. snooze time. 

No one in their ‘right’ mind actually enjoys waking up from a beautiful wet dream to face the hum drum of rush hour traffic, inconsiderate metro riders and annoying morning people at the office, or even church for that matter.  It’s not natural.  In fact, it’s just plain wrong.  As we turn on the news each morning to listen to the new catastrophes that have taken place in the night as we rest in peaceful slumber, we hear about the hostility that plagues our nation’s streets.  It has nothing to do with racism, sexism, religious discrimination, financial trauma or unfair, unwise or unethical political choices.  It has everything to do with the fact that half the damn world is filled with NON-morning people – people who hit the snooze button on their alarm clocks so much and so hard until it’s considered domestic abuse. 

Almost every person who lives and breathes wakes up to a cold blustery wind and hot stale morning breath and is cursed to face the enemy known as the “robotic morning person.”  That irritating schmuck is a curse in himself.  He is a test to see just how much self restraint one holds when it comes down to punching someone in the bottom lip for saying those fight-provoking words, “Good morning!”  I ask you, “What the hell is so good about it?  Do I look like I’m having a good morning?  Do I look as if I’m enjoying this conversation with you?” 

These are the types of things we think about as we unwillingly sit in our a.m. staff meetings or next to the fat chick on the bus who has us smashed in our seats while she snores uncontrollably, almost as if to mimic a lion who has escaped from the zoo.  “Move your big ass over so I can close my eyes and do the same damn thing!” 

I present to you “VIOLENCE,” once again stemmed from substantial lack of a.m. snooze time.   

There should be a unified petition to start our days off between the hours of 10 am – 12 noon.  Work days should be shorter with nap times to replace smoke breaks.  Weekends should begin on Thursdays.  Church and school should be held via web and telephone conferencing.  This would cut down on our crime rate in America.  Factor in a few alcoholic beverages, a couple of calorie packed hamburgers for breakfast and absolutely no stupidity talk before 3pm and our world would be a much better, happier and safer place to live. 

Since the dawn of time man has been challenged to refrain from throwing a brick at the rooster that cock-a-doodle-doo’s his loud ass at the crack of dawn.  We have been challenged to open our eyes in the dead of night, only to be laughed at by the clock whose little hand rests on the “5” while the big hand caresses the “12”.  “No more!” I say.  The madness ends here!  

It is time for all grumpy morning people to rise up and beat the living day lights out of morning and all who support it.  Sure, Starbucks’ sales may decrease a little, but consider the spike in annual revenue for liquor stores, television broadcast stations, the world-wide web network and pajamas manufacturers.  Consider the dark circles people will no longer have under their eyes.  There is way too much to be gained for the ingenious concept of beginning our days later, all for the sake of catching a few more Z’s in the morning.   It wouldn’t even require any effort.  In fact, it would take more effort of stupidity of anyone who isn’t bright enough to agree with this brand new way of living.  Think about it.  No…better yet, SLEEP on it!