My dear friend DFJ3 is the youth pastor of a Baptist church in a faraway state. This morning he posted a link to streaming video of his church’s service, so I clicked, waited out the cheesy commercials, and watched for a bit.
I tuned in before the actual service got going, because the camera was aimed at an empty stage. I immediately disapproved of the uptempo instrumental music playing in the background– church music should be solemn and mournful and guilt-inducing. This reminds me: there is a version of “Amazing Grace” set to the tune of “Gilligan’s Island.” It is an atrocity.
After a few minutes of aural abomination, DFJ3 stepped to the lectern to commence the proceedings. The camerawork and connection weren’t all that great, but DFJ3 was suited up, majestic and ministerial as he led the congregation in a nice, solemn hymn.
I expected DFJ3’s sermon to begin sooner or later, but after the third song started I must confess to closing the laptop and going about scrambling some eggs and buttering some toast. And making some tea. And putting jelly on the toast. And having a Reese’s peanut butter mini-cup. Hopefully the sermon wouldn’t have completely transformed my outlook on life and changed me into a better person, because that would’ve made my breakfast the most expensive one ever.
The important thing is that, however briefly, I saw my good friend living his life’s dream, and hopefully leading his life’s mission, on the internet with minimal commercial interruption. I’ll have to watch the actual sermon next time.
The breakfast reminds me: I’m reading a book called Bacon and Egg Man. The American northeast has seceded (think “United States of Canada.” Remember that?) from the rest of the country, is led by Bloomberg’s successors, and has turned into a gastro-fascist surveillance state. I like that term, “gastro-fascist,” let me google it real quick…
…yep, it’s real enough. Anyhow, the hero is a New Yorker with access to bacon and eggs, and is being forced by the cops to help bring down the biggest food-smuggling ring in Manhattan. It’s not Dostoevsky, but it’s fun. I look forward to the movie.