Below is a little taste of what you might find on Irreverend James and the Critical Mass Choir’s soon-to-be-launched blog (that I will most happily be contributing to). It will be a place of irreverent discussion on matters of theology, politics and soup recipes.
To quote The Profit: "No matter what our faith (or lack thereof), we are all someone's Godless Infidel, so rejoice! We’re in this together. Laughter is our one last great hope."
Trust me, you’re going to want to sign up to their mailing list. This isn't just a band in the making - it's a rallying point for reasonable, witty, relentlessly optimistic people.
Dialogue between Miss Daisy Cutter, a Southern Baptist minister's wife and The Profit, "respected" 1980s televangelist.
Daisy: Profit, I need to discuss something disconcertin’ that’s come to my attention through all them gossipers in the parsonage. Not that I listen to gossip none, I try to refrain from discussin’ other people when they’re not ‘round to defend themselves. But Mary-Ellen -such a beastly gal, so thick in them skirts -she’s just talks mean ‘bout everybody! Anyhow, I just thought I’d tell you what I overheard that she heard because it’s rather incriminatin’ --
The Profit: Now, now, Miss Cutter, settle down. It may be true that I have cavorted with the glitterati, and there have been some unfortunate misunderstandings between the Pope, Michele Bachmann, Jesus Christ and I. But I assure you, dear child, that was no flashlight in my pocket. I was genuinely glad to see them all, in that Westboro Mall Subway sandwich shop.
Daisy: I just love Westboro! It’s that EASTboro rabble that I can’t stand.
The Profit: And that’s why the clergy doth say to sit! Stay! Good pup. But now tell me, Daisy. What’s really on your mind.
Daisy: Oh you see right through me, now don’t you Profit.
The Profit: A man would have to be blind not to. Come now. Do tell.
Daisy: Well sometimes when I’m at home alone...
The Profit: Yes...
Daisy: ...I play that latina music.
The Profit: Now there’s your problem right there! Why on earth weren’t you listening to Irreverend James and the Critical Mass Choir (on sale now via Bandcamp or in all your local grocery outlets)?
The Profit: Never mind. You were saying?
Daisy: I wasn’t snooping or nuthin’, but the maid left a cd out in her bottom drawer under some journals. So I played it and, sweet baby Jesus, somethin’ inside me tingled somethin’ fierce. At first I thought it was the leftovers, but no - it was the percussion. And I said to myself : Myself, we should dance.
The Profit: Your little voices kicking up a storm again in that head of yours?
Daisy: They keep to themselves, mostly. But you see, Profit, the real crazy part of it all, later that night I flipped on the television and wouldn’t you know it, there was this show that had all these people I ain’t never heard of dancin' to this same exact music! And then, I saw something that nearly knocked me off my lazy boy...
The Profit: Tom Delay.
Daisy: Chaz Bono!
The Profit: So now you want a sex change.
The Profit: Daisy? You have my blessing. That’ll be 12 dollars, please.