You may have heard how some modern religious music has been labeled “Jesus is My Girlfriend” music.
They may be right http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slrleMr9Cis
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I would have rather not watched that, but as I did I forced my readers to watch it to.
Very sad indeed.
Actually I think it’s kind of creepy to sing that song to a girl: you’re the voice inside my head that tells me what to do?
Take comfort. This age is passing away.
“Jesus is My Girlfriend” music isn’t as good as “Jesus is My Friend” music:
Is it just me, or does that lead singer look like G.O.B. before he picked up smoking?
Remember that Simpsons episode when the world was ending and Homer and Bart were on a plane to the sun to burn up – and only the most obnoxious people on earth were on the flight? I can imagine this group with them singing this song all the way.
Turn the volume way down and watch this one right after- Sal Polichetti 30 years later.
Rube, yes, put Sal on an IT scooter and I can see that.
Todd, I’m more of a Family Guy guy. But I have to admit, I love this song. And it’s interesting to consider that revivalists didn’t just ape pop culture, they created a large portion of it.
Okay – if we are going to post funny snippets of evangelical life, I have to post my favorite mini sermon
I wonder if this means that my household will fail if I’m one of those pansies who makes sure to put the seat back down every time?
This might ruin your day.
A real man would have a urinal installed in his house.
My wife caught me pissing against the wall last night after I stumbled in. One ass-kicking later, and I’m now pissing sitting down, at least after midnight.
From the Bar Jester:
Two guys are talking. The first, shaking his head, says, “man, I don’t know what else I can do. I mean, I admit I was out with the boys pretty late last night. But on my way home–I cut the engine halfway down the block, coasted noiselessly into the drive, didn’t even close the car door, came in the house quietly, tiptoed upstairs in my socks, undressed outside the bedroom, tiptoed into the bathroom, put my foot in the toilet and pissed down my leg, slipped noiselessly into bed and still caught hell from my old lady.” His buddy says, “See, you’re doing this all wrong. I was out late last night too. Coming home I laid on the horn halfway down the block, squealed the tires turning into the drive, slammed the car door shut, slammed the front door shut, stomped upstairs in my work boots, pissed all the way from the bathroom door–moaning, farting and singing the whole time, mind you–did a cannonball into the bed, pulled back the covers, slapped my wife on the ass and shouted, ‘Who’s horny?’ She pretended to be asleep!”
What about the Holy Ghost Hokey Pokey?
…and it just wouldn’t be an episode of “Fundamentalists Gone Wild” without some sprinting down the aisle, somersaults, jacket-flinging, and a jump into the baptistry…all to a sad tune with no beat.
Ok, while I’m on a roll, why not “let everything that HAD breath, praise the Lord”? And while we’re at it, let’s wave our stinky socks in the air like we just don’t care?
That Holy Ghost Hokey Pokey is especially scary. Just goes to show you, people groove on CCM for the vaguely pop-pious sentimentality of the music, not for the content.
Ah, Reuben, poor generalization. I could also say that traditionalists groove on puritanical hymn singing for the smug sense of superiority and not the joy of singing 100-year-old hymns.
The Holy Ghost Hokey Pokey is utter nonsense and, pairing divine healing with it is blasphemous.
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