This story is 100% true.

So last night I was waiting on a party of about 15 people.  It was obvious that it was a business meeting of sorts and that they were definitely organizing some sort of event.  The woman who seemed to be in charge had a white binder in front of her.  While serving her her drink I happened to glance down at it.  It had a logo of what I assumed was the place they were in the meeting about.  The logo gave the impression that it was some sort of amusement park.  There were pictures of roller coasters and bright balloons and such.  The name of the amusement park was “SonWorld”.  Not sun like the sun which would have made sense, but son as in “boy child”.

I was confused.  I asked the woman, “Sonworld?  As in ‘My Three Sons’?”.

She promptly responded, “No, no.  As in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

Of course!  Jesus people!  It all made so much sense now.  Sonworld, the Christian amusement park.  A place where you can have some good clean fun without the evils and temptations of a secular theme park where the devil lurks around every corner and the carnies try to steal your children.  I get it.

But here’s the thing…

Sonworld was the the location.  The event they were organizing was called… get this… the “Summer Hummer.”  It was all I could do to laugh in their faces.  I couldn’t believe it.  This room full of full grown adults was completely clueless.  Not one of them even had an inkling as to what that means and the implications of those two things together.  “Come to Sonworld for the Summer Hummer.”  Fuck.  I’m laughing right now.

But it didn’t end there.

I later, after telling everybody else in the restaurant, went back to check on them and they were just throwing those phrases around like they were nothing.  The woman in charge said, and I am not making this up, “We want people to know that we’re there to serve the Summer Hummer.  And this year we’re getting rid of the fluff.”



One thought on “Those Crazy Christians!

  1. I recently moved from Indiana where the coolest game they can conceive of (the game we used to call bean-bag toss, not very imaginatively) is called “Corn Hole.” I was in a meeting where we were talking about how awesome it was gonna be on the big festival weekend when all the kids come out to play Corn Hole. I was shocked and dismayed. Where I come from “playing corn hole” was NOT something to discuss in polite company.

    Kids these days. They should keep off my damned lawn.

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