Solo Cathedral

A little while ago I rambled on about searching for a church.  (Murk Merkh Searches For A Church) Hopefully you read it.  If you haven't, it doesn't really matter it was just a nice segue into another church post.  That is really how you spell it.  I thought it was spelled "segway", but that is the way cool people get around.

"They're all looking at me.  Just act natural.  Look straight and stay cool,  Lester.  That's it, I'm cool."

I know, I know here is where Bill gets all preachy.
No, in fact, this story isn't even about me.  This is a story about a friend of mine, who was also in the hunt for a new church.  This is a TRUE story and although I will try to do it justice I am sure that with what little ability I have I will slaughter it beyond recognition - kind of like what Daryl Hannah's surgeon did.

"If I were the King of the Forressssttt,"

Since, I will not use his real name in the story I will call him: Albin.
Albin is a single guy, not too much going for him.  I mean, sure, he is nice and has a contagious laugh, but as a whole, just a simple man.  He just goes to work and follows it up with sitting on the couch and watching sports on television.  I'm sure he eats too, he is a little hefty...I'm sorry, that's unrelated.

Well, Albin is also a church-going kinda guy.  He has never been heavily involved in any one church, but helps out when needed and doesn't mind getting his hands dirty either.  (I'm mean, like cleaning, not like dumping a body.)  But, his pastor left his church and there was a big falling out of sorts and now Albin was in a limbo of sorts.  He was in search of a church.  No easy feat.  I can attest to that.
He was looking everywhere, when he ran into an old high school friend.  Now, I wasn't there, but this is how I was told it went down:
"Albin, great to see you."
"You too.  It's been a long time."
"Sure has.  Blah, blah, blah.  details unrelated.  So, where are you going to church, Albin?"
"Actually, I'm kinda between churches right now, I'm looking around for one now."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Did you know that I am a pastor now, and I am starting my own church.  Why don't you come on Sunday and visit.  We meet at the elementary school."
"What time?"
"Eleven o'clock."
Albin thought for a few seconds and said, "Eleven o'clock sounds good.  I will be there."
"Don't be late," said his former buddy, now a pastor.  It had been years since he had seen this fellow and why not try it out?  So, he did.
He pulled up at just before eleven.  Out in the parking lot he was greeted by his "friend".
"Come on in," said the pastor.  "It's just down the hallway."
They went into a room with about thirty chairs and nobody else was there.  It was still before eleven.  Then the pastor said, "Albin, but do you mind I am going to go over my notes, just find a seat anywhere."  The pastor sat up front.
Albin sat in the third row.  He brought his Bible and skimmed through it, waiting for the other members to arrive.  Betcha know where this is going.
Nobody came.  Eleven o'clock came and the pastor walked to the small wooden pulpit.
"Please rise," he said.  "We will now sing our first hymn.  Turn to page 52, To God Be the Glory."
Albin looked around.  It was just the two of them.  Maybe others will join.
They sang To God Be the Glory and followed it with two more hymns.  Then he had them sit...following it up with announcements.
What follows announcements?
That's right...
"We will now pass the offering plate."
What would you do?
Because, it's official.  This dude is crazy.

Not the Pastor - Just Crazy

Albin considered this and figured the entertainment value was worth: Two dollars.
It was cheaper than some other forms of amusement.

$36.95 - For the weight.

The whole time, acting as though it was a full house.  Albin told me he started looking for cameras to see if he was being punk'd.
But, Aston Kutchner never came.
The sermon was preached and a final prayer was given and the congregation was dismissed.  Then, the pastor walked over to Albin and said, "Hopefully you can join us again."
Albin never went back, in fact, I believe he went running to his car.

Now, if it was me, I don't know what I would have done...and I don't know if I could have held it together.  It would have been too awkward for me.  Just the two of us...especially the singing part.  I didn't like being alone in the room with the Big Mouth Billy Bass.

"Take me to the river, Billy."

Hopefully this blog hasn't sent you running to your car.  Keep coming back...and feel free to LIKE us.  (C'mon, everybody's doing it.)  OUR FACEBOOK FAN PAGE - please go and Like us...I'm begging you.  PLEASE.  PLEASE.  It will make you popular.  I promise.
Have you had any good church searching stories...I would love to hear them...unless they are boring, because if they are boring, my time is very valuable.  I could be watching TV or writing this slop.  But, if it is a good story, SHARE it with us.

Reverend Bill
(not actually a reverend)

Jungle Fervor

It's Black History Month and here at the blog we are celebrating!
Why?
To recognize some great black people who might not normally get their due.  But, don't worry honkies, you'll get your turn soon.  Don't go getting your confederate flag panties in a bunch, just skip this post and listen to Ma and Pa play Dueling Banjos while you pick the straw out of your three teeth.

*May I take a quick sidebar?  Of course, I can, it's my blog.  This is for the few chuckleheads who still wave the confederate flag...I hate to break it to you, but you lost.  In fact, it was lost around 100 years before you were born.  Why are you still clinging to the losing side?  I'm not wearing my "Russia 1980 Hockey Team" sweater, my "Green Goblin Forever" hoodie, my "Michael Duakis '88" windbreaker, my Team Drago" hat, my "Cobra Commander" pants or "You Could Be Outside Instead blog 2013 tee-shirt."  What they all have in common is they are losers...and so are you.
"Psst..I've heard this Roman Empire might make a come back.  Let's be the first ones back on the bandwagon."

We want to make everyone happy. (Except the Klan, we don't really care what they think.  We enjoy Boyz  in the Hood, much more than the boys in the hoods.  Hey, that's the best I've got.  I've got a couple more, like pointed hoods make it easier to fit the dunce cap, but that's a stretch, with jokes like those the enemy wins.)

The Klan on a stroll

Black History Month has always been met with great debate, but we are not here to talk about racism or the pros and cons of Black History Month.  We are here for a few cheap giggles and because we are bored and we have nothing better to do for the next six minutes.

Now, I am not trying to be controversial or radical or whatever you want to label me, we just want to have fun. So, I thought, what better way to kick off February than to kick it off with a little soul.

We could have named all of the same black people we always talk about during Black History Month...

George Washington Carver    Rosa Parks   Booker T. Washington

George Washington Carver

But, this is a humor site, right?  Well, at least we try to be funny.  Although, we are about as funny as gynecomastia.  Okay, that is pretty funny, but we still try our best.  Hey, you get what you pay for, so stop complaining.

When I thought about what I was planning on writing for this post (yes I do think about this before I start writing) I thought maybe I would write about some great black comedians.  But, every other black history funny blog is already doing that.

Dave Chappelle   Richard Pryor    Chris Rock    Redd Foxx   Flip Wilson  Eddie Murphy

Bill Cosby   Garrett Morris   Dick Gregory   Donald Glover   Childish Gambino

Fred Sanford

But, today I would love to talk to you about a truly great American...and yes, he's black, because if he wasn't black it would make odd Black History selection.  This man is an inventor and he has made it his goal to put a weapon in every child's hands.  We would like to honor, the creator of the Super Soaker: Lonnie G. Johnson.

An Awesome Dude

Lonnie Johnson was born in 1949 in Mobile, Alabama.  Down south, ya'll.  His father was a World War II veteran, and a handyman who loved inventing.  Lonnie's dad and he created a pressurized chinaberry shooter out of bamboo shoots when he was a child.

But, Lonnie kept on inventing.  He was thirteen years old and took a lawnmower engine and scrap pieces from a junkyard and built his own go-cart.  He was racing down the highway in his pimped out lawnmower go-cart when the police pulled him over.  Good thing it wasn't the LAPD.  (I've heard some things.)

Have you ever blown up your mother's kitchen?  Lonnie did, while trying to make rocket fuel, which he got the recipe from a library book.  (* A library is a place that has books.  Books are things that are writings on paper - not a computer screen.  I know, it sounds to weird to me too.)
Anyway, He was able to use that fuel to build a mini rocket ship.  He later in life used some of these ideas when he worked as a system engineer for the Galileo and Cassini missions to Jupiter and Saturn.

Now, let's get to the important things like spraying neighborhood kids and cats with water.  Sure, using the hose is always fun, but I need it portable.  Oh yeah, the Super Soaker.  Thanks, Lonnie.
He took PVC, a Coke Bottle, and plexiglass and armed his six year old daughter with the first ever Super Soaker.  She destroyed the other kids with their weak little water guns.

And years later, and a revenue of $400 million, Lonnie can relax and kick his feet up, but he hasn't.  He still continues to invent and owns over 62 patents.  This dude is a genius.  So, no matter what race you are, you gotta respect a this guy.  Lonnie G. Johnson.

Now, go out and listen to Hendrix or James Brown and remember we are all the same on the inside.  So, if you are still a racist after reading my blog, have somebody explain this post to you, because your family tree might be a straight line, but no matter what color you are, we still love you.

~A William Merkh Joint~