My husband’s favorite pass time is inflicting things onto me that he knows I hate just to see me go through my stages of intolerance.
- Stage 1: passive dislike and disdain. I quietly hate something, but only bitch about it when asked.
- Stage 2: Openly annoyed. I’ll complain and mock- but not be hostile.
- Stage 3: Openly angry. The constant assault of this thing that he KNOWS irritates me, and by the fact that I’m being assaulted by it BECAUSE it irritates me for his amusement brings open hostility.
- Stage 4: Hate. Screaming, throwing objects and insults, and acting like a lunatic. It takes a lot to get me to this point- and this stage tends to makes my husband laugh the hardest.
Brad has done this with countless things. Playing Limp Bizkit first thing in the morning while shooting me with an air gun. Tickling me after I’ve told him literally thousands of times that being tickled makes me want to stab people. Uncrossing my toes (long time readers know I have to keep my toes crossed at all times). Standing over me while I’m trying to concentrate on work, and playing Skynard on his guitar. It’s his own version of Chinese Water Torture- but customized just for me. He does this because he thinks it cute to annoy me- but then is shocked when after weeks of this, I finally snap and start screaming and acting like I’ve completely lost my mind.
Last night, he discovered Modern Christian Rock music. And I am now fucked. Deeply, truly, and sincerely fucked.
Long time readers of my babble on here will know that I had WAY too much Jesus growing up, and it has made me run screaming from him and his fan club. But it’s not just the scripture that makes me run- but the antics that the J.C. Fan Club creates to “modernize” J.C. and make him more hip to the “sinful youth” of today. When I was forced to go to “Young Life” meetings in junior high and high school, there were the creepy skits about the sinfulness of premarital sex and drug use, and how both would ALWAYS lead you to either get AIDS or become a dying crack whore. They would take classic rock songs out of context to make them Jesus-Friendly and the whole room would sing along. I experienced these marketing tactics on a grand scale when I was sent to the Southern Baptist group home in Branson, Missouri in high school. They would take us to “revivals” at Silver Dollar City in the hopes of saving our angsty juvenile delinquent souls- and there would be hundreds of teenagers with their arms in the air singing at the tops of their lungs gospel songs that were put to “Pearl Jam” sounding music, and wearing t-shirts that say “Jesus Rocks”. It was monumentally disturbing.
So last night I’m sitting in bed watching a movie, and I hear “Rape Metal” coming from his office (Rape Metal= Limp Bizkit, Puddle of Mud, Slipknot, etc). ..and Brad is laughing hysterically. He calls me in, and I comply. And it just sounds like bullshit rape metal to me… until I listen to the lyrics. They’re singing about the love of the lord. And my stomach turns to ice. And the massive shit-eating grin that Brad had on his face while watching my reaction to this music solidified the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to shake this. This new little gem that Brad found was going to be living in our house for a very long time.
The difference between the creep-show of Christian Modern Rock that I grew up with and what Brad discovered is this: what I grew up with were bands that were desperately trying to sound like popular music but they wrote original songs; the new Christian Modern Rock bands now take already famous songs but change the lyrics. Same song exactly, singer is a low-rent version of the original song’s singer- but with anti-abortion, anti-sex, anti-drug, and “I love Jesus” lyrics. They took the Pearl Jam song “Alive” and changed the title to “A Lie” and it’s all about how evolution is a gigantic scam. Do you get it?
Brad downloaded ALL of it. Hundreds of songs. He blasted them all last night and all morning long- laughing and laughing and laughing. And yes… this music is so horribly, painfully, bone-chillingly pathetic that it sincerely is hilarious. Christian Rock realized that they just can’t make good music- so they have to steal from Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Limp Bizkit, and every other chart buster out there. It really is amazing. But the moment I realized what I was listening to last night; the moment it dawned on me what Brad had discovered, and what was now going to be my new roommate- I regressed 20 years. My brain spiraled back to being a 15 year old, sitting in an outdoors Inbred-Land auditorium settled in the middle of some bullshit hick amusement park with my arms crossed and a scowl on my face, surrounded by 2000 born-again Christian youths, waving their arms over their heads in sync to the music, crying with joy, and singing “Rocketown” by Michael W. Smith in unison (while I’m getting screamed at the whole time by my counselor for being disrespectful to Jesus for not standing and weeping and being filled with the love of the lord… and then having to go back to the group home and dig up tree stumps for hours because of my disrespect). Brad’s in tears laughing, and all I can think is “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!! IT’S FOLLOWED ME HOME!!! IT’S IN MY HOUSE!!! IT’S GOT MY HUSBAND!!! FFFUUUCCCKKK YYYOOOUU JESUS FAN CLUB!!!!”. 20 years of vigorously scrubbing off The Blood of the Lord and thinking I was finally clean- and an online list of MP3′s brought all the icky bad God-feelings right back, making me dirty all over again. After 20 years in the witness protection program, God not only found me, but has set up camp happily in Brad’s ipod to be with us at home and wherever we may travel. Brad is SO amused with this that I know it’s not going away for a very very very long time.
A few weeks from now if you see images of me on the news covered in blood and being hauled away in handcuffs by the police- you’ll know I finally cracked and had to kill Brad because of this music. And it’s all Jesus’s fault.