It’s been over two years since Nelson blew his cover at
Podiatry. Two years since I’ve had a front row seat to the circus of
consumerism. Two years since I played usher to the clambering crowds coming to
worship at the altar of material goods. Two years since I submitted my body as
a pawn to the gods of capitalism, becoming the fitting room snake charmer and luring
others to bend to the gods’ wills and purchase, purchase, purchase! And oh what
delights, wonders, and horrors did I discover. It is only right, then, that
Nelson’s next persona be in an equal position of wooing others, of appealing to
emotions, of using rhetoric to persuade the masses to join in a great and influential
machine that is over and above them with a force seemingly too great to counter.
Thus Nelson, no longer a Podiatrist, stripped himself of the chunky jewelry,
grew out the edgy haircut, and hung up the color-blocked tees only to don the
billowy, ankle-length, skin-covering sack-like garb of the righteous. Nelson
Mandela is a Methodist.
Just as Podiatry was at the same time a social experiment
and a means of cash-getting, Methodism currently serves as a source of income
for my household. My spouse, who will henceforth be known as Voltron, has
recently wrested a Methodist church pianist position from the cold,
bureaucratic, nearly-dead fingers of the pianist-finding committee. In an act
of solidarity, I have agreed to not only attend this institution but lend my
snake charming voice to the alto section of the church’s choir. Just as he did
at Podiatry, at church, Nelson will play a part; this time, Nelson shall play the
part of the devout, crafting a character with the right dress, turns of phrase,
and, of course, the perfect prayerfully communing with Jesus face.
Stay tuned to the next post for the introduction of a few of
the cast members: Big Geezy and Nose Hair.
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