If I were a late night DJ and this were a radio station instead of a blog, I'd say "I'm sending this one out to KD in the NYC. I hope you're keepin' it real, my man." And then I'd drop the needle. Instead, I'll click "publish".
We would be postmodern, if we could only get the Leotard to fit. We would embrace the Permanent Possibility of Misconception, except it took us too long to find him, and when we did, he was picking his nose.
The truth is, the big sign outside the community center said, "Postmodern Emerging Church: All Welcome." But they didn't mean it. We couldn't even make it up the sidewalk. The guys out front remembered us from T-ball. And they saw the squirt guns.
Nobody wants to keep score in T-ball. And the guidance official behind the plate let some of the kids round the bases backward, or stay on base when they insisted that out was a narrow concept of being. So we did things. Things our mother made us say sorry for. But we didn't mean it. We still don't. Now they're accusing us of not taking the Leotard seriously, and we're not sure how they guessed.
2 comments:
I appreciate this one going out to me, b/c I would've missed it otherwise.
I absolutely love it! They are genius'. "The big sign outside the commmunity center...but they didn't mean it", hysterical!
I appreciate this one going out to me, b/c I would've missed it otherwise.
I absolutely love it! They are genius'. "The big sign outside the commmunity center...but they didn't mean it",y.htmlorney.html
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