There is going to be a shit ton of people going to mass today that never go to mass. The dreaded C & E crowd that aren’t there for the Eucharist, but for the photo op.
I’m not going to bullshit you… I rarely go to mass. I’m still the guy in slacks and dress shoes that says “and also with you,” when I do go.
My mom was a choir director at our parish. In the early 1970’s she worked for a company in Chicago that published that red book on every pew, Worship II. Oh yeah, she was also an ex nun. So she knew her liturgy.
My Oldman, the guy who I quote often on the Chalkboard using swear words. He was a permanent deacon at our parish. He knew the liturgy almost as well as my mom did.
They dragged me to every mass possible for the first twelve years of my life. I sat in the pew on Easter with my mom in the choir loft and my dad on the altar.
… and they were watching me the whole Mass!
Back in those days polyester was the material of choice. Itchy, scratchy and stiff pants with little belts attached to the waste.
I had hip hop thighs before hip hop thighs were a thing. That polyester made a distinct noise when they rubbed between my thick trunks. I hated wearing those fucking pants.
If it wasn’t polyester, it was corduroy. Dress pants in the 1970’s are one of the reasons that I wear sweat pants to mass today….
… and mass is at Our Lady of the Couch Cushions parish located in the archdiocese of my living room.
I do have a couple parishes that I go to occasionally. I sneak into the first Mass on Sunday morning, the tee time Mass. Twenty minutes with no fanfare and no whoopie cushions. The Gospel, the Eucharist, a quick homily and go in peace and don’t be a dick this week.
Today I give thanks for the inception of Dockers pants in the mid 1980’s and every kind of Catholic Mass you want on YouTube.
Today isn’t about a scary looking bunny rabbit. It’s about the Lamb, the Lamb of God.
I’m going to watch mass on television. I’m going to watch “Godspell.” I’m going to listen to some Gregorian Chant and all the Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus and Agnus Dei. I’m going to listen to Black People Gospel music because they put the Resurrection in “Resurrection Sunday” and I’m going to pray to my parents. Thanking them for the strong foundation of faith they gave me.
And I leave you with an Easter quote from Deacon Don Shepley.
“Jesus got the shit kicked out of him. They nailed him to a GD cross wearing a crown of sharp thorns. You can wear those fucking pants for an hour and a half and give thanks for his sacrifice!”
Thanks Jesus… thanks for my hip hop thighs!
"Hip hop has blown my mind
John Cash has done his time
When you and I
Were in the weeds drinking wine
With that English singer
And your hip hop thighs." Ike Reilly
When you and I
Were in the weeds drinking wine
With that English singer
And your hip hop thighs." Ike Reilly
...and it is Sunday, not Monday!
My editor missed that mistake.
(BONUS WRITING)
My most consistent attendance to Catholic Mass was during the 1990's. My parish was Ascension in Oak Park, Illinois. They had a Young Adults Mass for Catholics in their twenties and thirties. The mass was on Sunday nights and on the third Sunday of the month they had a "Meet and Greet" in the Oak Room in the school.
Sure, I went to receive communion, but I must admit, I also went to get laid. The pews were filled with horny Westside Catholic girls. They will tell you that they were there to find a good Catholic husband, but they were also there to get laid as well!
Don Shepley always said, "All girls screw son, some more than others!"
Many post mass evenings ended up at Lalo's Mexican restaurant around the corner from the church. A bowl of guacamole and a couple pitchers of Margaritas and before you know it, two Catholics end up naked early into Monday morning.
Now I need to find a Sunday mass for older divorced, widowed horny Catholics located near a Mexican restaurant.
