AddieStan

Speaking of Memorial Day 2006, while the denizens of New Brunswick, New Jersey, endured the bad rhymes of so-called Christian rock, we in the nation's capital were rocked all weekend long by the unmuffled din of Harley Davidsons roaring through our streets with no regard for the fact that some of us actually live here and would have liked to hear our jazz and conversation during our family picnics. Your blogstress fails to appreciate the sound of a Harley; take the muffler off a Japanese bike, and it wouldn't sound all that different. In fact, your cybertrix once had a Pinto with a bad exhaust system from which issued a reasonable approximation of the Harley soundscape. While your Webwench may be annoyed by the annual Rolling Thunder rudenessfest in Our Nation's Capital (not to mention the sight of that many fat, furry white people convening here all at once), she cannot hope to match the dudgeon in which her friend Frank Gilligan (your blogstress's partner in musical...

Your blogstress's old friend, Mike from Jersey, responded to the AddieStan post, Sermon on the mound , with his own anecdote from the university town of New Brunswick: I have my own faith story: last weekend we were at our town’s Memorial Day parade. Singing on a flatbed was a Christian rock band. The parade seemed to stall with these guys right in front of us. The singer was wailing about Jesus and saviors and what-not for about five minutes while tattooed proselytizers were distributing church literature. The tattoos were all bible verse and crosses à la Max Cady ("Cape Fear"). It was pretty wild.