Dear Lord, Baby Jesus...

Yesterday saw a new twist in my Sunday afternoon routine. Oh, it started off normally, alright (come home, rip off sweaty clothes, throw on shorts and t-shirt, eat lunch, use the facilities, pass out in bed for about half an hour), but that's where it took a dramatic turn.

Usually in preparing for my little Sabbath-day power nap, I'll pop on the TV and let a little golf match drone on and put me to sleep. But today... no golf. So I flip around the channels when I finally land on some coverage of a guy praying. I thought I had flipped all the way up to TBN (the televangelist channel with the lady with pink hair sitting in a gold throne), exept for the fact that the guy praying was wearing a cowboy hat and a sateen jumpsuit emblazoned with patches of Bud Light, Windex, Mitchum, and Easy Off Oven Cleaner (I don't remember exactly what the patches read, but work with me).

But this guy starts praying, and it's not one of those "Dear celestial force up in the puffy clouds, uniter of the cosmos" kind of prayers. It's one of those "Dear Heavenly Father... bless this race (that would be "car race," not "white race" - I think)... bless the troops... in Jesus' name" kind of prayers. One of those prayers where it gets top billing before the National Anthem - I'm not kidding, "The Banner" got bumped.

Now forgive me for being the only person in North America (or at least south of the Mason-Dixon line) who hasn't seen more than 13 seconds of a NASCAR race, but this was news to me. The purpose of this posting is not to comment on the prayer - I'll deal with the propriety of that at another time. But post-prayer I couldn't change the channel. There was something that kept me glued to the set.

It was like the vortex of a black hole sucking in all life within a resonable proximity. Like the sirens' call drawing Odysseus to the rocks. Like the disgusting pile of roadkill from which - no matter how hard you try - you can't turn away. Like the... OK, I'll stop.

What I'm trying to say is (and I feel dirty even admitting this) I kinda liked it. First a little disclaimer: it wasn't a normal NASCAR race where all they do is turn left. There was actual skill involved, since it was one of those road races where they turn right and left. But it was NASCAR nonetheless.

Pray for me. I don't want to end up like that guy.