Having decided that we really need a spiritual community, for the kids’ sake as well as our own, we went to church for the first time in a long time last Sunday. Specifically, we went to the Unitarian Universalist Church in York, which we figured was pretty much the only option for a pair of ambiguously spiritual parents, a borderline Athiest son, and a Pagan daughter. Found myself thinking the same thing I always do: I really want to like the UU church. I like what they stand for. But to haul out an oversued quote, there’s just no there there. It’s like someone took a Methodist church, and carefully excised it’s soul, so that only the trappings remained. It has none of the grandeur and mysticism of High Church; none of the energy and spontaneity of the Charismatic Movement; none of the down-home-ness of the Restoration Movement. In their desperate rush to offend no one their speakers often wind up sounding like announcements from a Human Resources department. Plodding, spiritless hymns and a few platitudes: it’s everything I’ve always gritted my teeth through while waiting for the real purpose of meeting, the fellowship afterwards.
Overheard at Borders last night:
It’s a self-development program disguised as a skin-care company.
– Woman presenting something called “Arbonne” to a gaggle of other women.
FInally reading (well, listening to) The Cluetrain Manifesto. It’s all stuff I knew already, but entertainingly told (unlike The World is Flat).
Down on the planet, Wesley is jogging around with his new friends. Unlike the adults, who are busy getting their freak on in Plato’s Retreat, the kids are busy showing off their gymnastic skills. One of the Edo boys walks on his hands! Oh! Wesley got served! But wait! Wesley serves back with some cartwheels and a roundoff, and IT’S ON!
In fact, it’s so on, the girl (who was played by a really sweet girl named Judith Jones, who played my girlfriend on an after school special called My Dad Can’t Be Crazy, Can He?) gets so hot for Wesley, she asks him if he’ll “teach her” how to “play ball.”
Oh, you bet, baby. Uncle Wesley will teach you how to play ball. Why don’t you just slip into this latex bodysuit and put on this wig first, and then we’ll play all sorts of ball, you dirty little bitch.
Uh. What just happened? Sorry about that.
Wesley tells them to get a bat. When they don’t know what it is, he describes Worf’s penis. It’s not awkward at all.