Surely we have all watched with curiosity as “Occupy” protests have erupted around the globe, even in futile places like my scenic home town of McAllen, TX. This fervent movement spread like wildfire all over the world in a matter of weeks, garnering support and media attention faster than a marital lawsuit against Kim Kardashian. Personally, I hate the government and the rat bastard Wall Streeters that landed people of my age group the envied title of “The Lost Generation,” so I was anxious to join the fist shaking, albeit from the comfort of my own home. After all, as The Secret tells us, all we have to do to get things done is send out positive vibes into the universe, right?

These Occupiers, if I understood correctly, were protesting the fact that much of the wealth in the United States (and the world in general) is concentrated in a small group of people, the “1%,” while the majority of people, the “99%,” are languishing in varying levels of dissatisfaction, if not poverty. I can get on board with that. I’d rather most people be provided for, working, and content than otherwise. Who, honestly, wouldn’t prefer that? I’m not sure even those stone-hearted, baby-tear-drinking, dream-shitting-upon one percenters would disagree with that sentiment down in their heart of hearts.
So, we established that we’re discontented about the state of things and as such, we decided to have us an Occupation. Alright, cool. Go team, I like it. Let’s be the change that Obama left on the campaign trail. But after the initial shock-wave of excited rebellion dissipated, people began to ask a very, very important question: What did they want? We know why they were protesting (I’m pretty sure), but what objective were these Occupiers seeking to accomplish?

And that’s where no amount of ugly glasses, varying forms of unkempt facial hair, or unemployed angst could provide a cogent answer. The Occupy protest turned into a really, really large, angry two year-old. It was mad, its arms were crossed in unyielding defiance, but it could not, to save its life, tell you what would get it in the damn car seat. That is why, to date, I would call this movement a failure.

One might pipe up and say “No, Irishman, they have not failed. They raised awareness about the populace’s dissatisfaction with corporations and rich people, fiscal inequality, and percentages.” Okay, I hear you. The problem I have with that is that a movement of this magnitude had a lot of power. To use it just to raise awareness about something with which most people are quite well acquainted is irresponsible and, I would even say, stupid.

What do we do now, then? How could we make this movement into more than a global temper tantrum? I have a couple ideas in mind that I think both sides of the aisle could get behind.

First: Term limits. Think about it. How do corporations get the power that they have? Why do politicians seem so disinterested in accomplishing anything that could benefit their constituents, despite the political consequences? We have a system where politicians are much more concerned with their careers than they are concerned with service of their constituents. This means doing favors for corporations and lobbyists in order to garner the monetary support of numerous political action committees, both for their campaigns and for personal gain. If you limit their terms, the idea of a “career politician” becomes null and void, forcing our leaders to actually lead rather than obsess over partisan rhetoric and accomplish nothing.

Second: regulation of the derivative market. These obscure financial instruments are largely unregulated and, many would say, (including the critically acclaimed PBS production Frontline) played a large part in the financial meltdown in 2008 and in the recent collapse of MF Global. Obama promised strict regulation of this risky market, but has not succeeded in passing anything, maybe because of the strong financial lobby that manipulates career politicians who can be in power for a lifetime.

These are just a couple valid, realistic goals for the Occupy Movement that would benefit our entire country and make their protests more than just an angry blip in history.

Kent Woodyard and myself, Conor McCarthy, the imminent humor writers and cultural commentators at TheTalkingMirror.com (TTM™), have chosen to step out of our silence and pledge our votes for Rick Santorum for the Republican Primary.

Allow me to explain.

You may recall that, following our 2008 endorsement of Mitt Romney in the Republican primaries, Romney’s poll numbers plummeted. He was eventually defeated, with the nomination going to John McCain. An association with TTM is now widely considered the kiss of death in the political world, with Kent and me now being regarded as campaign coffin builders.

That was our bad on that one. Ol’ Mittens begged us not to endorse him but we thought it was because his Mormon proclivities required him to show mercy to his enemies. Turns out, an endorsement from us is like farting at a funeral. It’s a bad thing, socially, I mean. I wish we could take credit for McCain’s loss too, but that was all on Palin. We told McCain he needed to “sex up his campaign a bit” because boobs win votes, but he took that way too seriously. We never intended for him to give his eye candy a microphone.  Kind of our fault in a way, I guess.

Since the last election, Kent and I have had time to reflect on the impact we made almost four years ago. We’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it and talking about it – between discussions about which True Blood character is gayer. We were pretty confused at the time, sort of like how I always feel when a girl doesn’t slap me when I talk to her at a bar. Kind of a stunned, dazed feeling. Like I wonder if she’s a hooker, you know?

Well, we get it now. Santorum is our guy. He’s the best.

Santorum is the most reasonable dude out there. Electable, home-schooled, not at all a total fundamentalist asshole. It’s not like the surge that led him to a win in Iowa was a total fluke. It’s not like Iowa is honestly the least important state in the union and the last damn place we should be looking for political guidance as a country. It’s not like those things at all.

All the clothes I wear have “Santorum 2012” printed on them somewhere, and that will continue well into 2013. This includes my boxers, briefs, and banana hammocks. I invite you to envision that as creatively as possible.

TTM wholeheartedly throws its considerable girth behind Rick Sanatorium. Every time he speaks I just want to chest-bump Jesus, know what I mean? Kent and I both agree that every time Santorum speaks the angel Gabriel curb-stomps a Las Vegas resident and high fives Tim Tebow.

With the exception of Dawson’s Creek trivia, we don’t know much of anything about anything, but we do know this country absolutely doesn’t need a level-headed moderate that is fluent in Mandarin like Jon Huntsman. Screw that guy. Good thing he dropped out. He’s a crazy Mormon like Obamney, all they want is to level up so they get their own planet to rule over.

Newt Gingrich’s head is bigger than a regulation basketball. How on earth could we elect a leader of the free whose bobble-head figurines could be built to scale? We can’t have that. We’d get less respect than if a woman was the president.

And before you evangelicals ask, yes, we’ve prayed about it and stuff. And yes, we’re sober. Santorum is the man for the job. Not Ron Paul, with all his notions of freedom and the constitution and whatever. He uses words I don’t even know and makes cogent, unemotional arguments, and that scares me.  Also, he’s old.

Santorum speaks our language. Faith, Family, and Freedom. Know what we say to that, here at TTM?

Santorum 2012.  Yes, we f***ing can.

Having spent upwards of three years foisting the half-crazed diatribes we call “opinions” onto the unsuspecting internet community, we at The Talking Mirror have finally decided to acknowledge a world outside of ourselves.  We’re going to start doing interviews!  Interviews, we’ve discovered, are wonderful little things that provide us an excuse to do two of our favorite things: (1) talk to girls and (2) use colons.

We’re hoping to begin doing these on a semi-regular basis and by “semi-regular” we mean “as soon as Kent is able to track down Minka Kelly’s home address.”  We’re also still waiting on a call back from Heath Ledger, but, in the meantime, we were able to score a sit-down (read: email exchange) with the supremely talented and ever gracious Tiffany Thompson. 

Who is Tiffany Thompson?  Well, first and foremost, she is a graduate of Wheaton College.  That alone should be sufficient evidence of her excellence as a person and worth as an interview subject, but for those of you who need more (i.e. Moody graduates and Dutch people) we should also mention that Miss. Thompson happens to be a kickass singer/songwriter.

Those of you who follow our work here on TTM know that we don’t throw around endorsements like “kickass” easily, but Tiffany fits the bill.  Since recording her first album while still in high school, Tiffany has worked tirelessly to improve her craft, and her growing portfolio of acoustic ballads and pop singles is already drawing comparisons to the work of Colbie Callait, Norah Jones, and Meatloaf.  (Editor’s Note: Two of those comparisons were true.  We’re not telling which ones.)

More recently, Tiffany has been maintaining a travel schedule that would make a flight attendant sweat.  A quick scan of her website’s “Upcoming Events” section reveals upcoming shows in Maryland, Tennessee, Virginia, California, and even Budapest, which I’ve been told is somewhere in Arkansas.  And at each stage and studio along the way, Tiffany is introducing her haunting vocals and searingly honest lyrics to an ever-growing fan base.  Suffice to say, she has more Facebook friends than you do.

Tiffany hasn’t landed as many Sprite commercials and Timbaland remixes as some of her peers, but listen to tracks like “Please” and “Till That Day Comes” and you start to get the sense that it’s only a matter of time before a Thompson single is being covered on American Idol.  So do yourself a favor.  Visit her website.  Like her on Facebook.  Find out when she’s going to be in your time zone, and go see her while tickets are still less than $20.00.

You’ll thank us when you’re trying to talk down a scalper outside The Rose Bowl.

TTM: If you could have the career of any current performer, who would it be?

TIFFANY: Adele, because her first record popped with almost all solo writes and a true expression of her own voice; then her second record was full of amazing collaborations.   

TTM: Would you rather be known as a Christian musician (a la Jeremy Camp) or as a musician who happens to also be a Christian (a la most Country singers)?

TIFFANY: I’d like to be known as a musician who is a Christian – a la Bono or John Forman.

TTM: The Black Eyed Peas…good band or greatest band of all time?

TIFFANY: Good band.  Amazing collaborators.  (Editor’s Note:”dirty bit”)

TTM: Are you still working a “day job” or is music your full-time gig now?

TIFFANY: Music has been my full-time gig since April 2011, and it is tough to make a living as an artist—to be sure!  Most of the musicians I know have to have a second job to cover their expenses.  It’s just the reality, unless you tour and sell merch all of the time.   

TTM: Musical artists often have insane demands when they perform concerts, like a bowl filled with only yellow M&M’s. What are some of your insane demands? What will some of your insane demands be when you hit it big and you include us in your posse?

TIFFANY: Well, I do demand that I have hot water for my Throat Coat tea bag at most shows.  Lemon and honey are deeply desired as well.  When I make it big, I’ll be sure to have a round of freshly squeezed lemonade for the whole posse.

TTM: Which of your songs is best suited to be the soundtrack of a flash mob?

TIFFANY: My new song “Your Home” has such a great groove and a killer bridge.  For sure the song for a flash mob!

TTM: You’re now several years into chasing your musical dreams.  Do you ever get discouraged as you pursue a career in music?  Do you ever find yourself wondering, “How is it possible that Performer X (let’s say Katy Perry) has a huge record deal / massive summer tour and I don’t?”

TIFFANY: I question my voice a lot, wondering if I really have something to say, really have a good/different enough vocal.  But since doing this full-time I have realized there are so many different factors that play into “success” that I am a lot more gracious with myself now.  And I just want to work ridiculously hard and give it all I have.  Then we’ll see when the Tiffany Thompson “Sparkler” tour happens.  You can be a roadee.

TTM: Which rapper would you secretly love to collaborate with?

TIFFANY: It’s no secret, Lil Wayne would be amazing to work with.  (Editor’s Note: Would you like to know the most gangster thing about Lil Wayne?  He’s a Green Bay Packers fan.)

TTM: Looking ahead to the next 6 months, what are you most excited about?

TIFFANY: In early October, I released a new single–Let It Break Through–that I wrote and recorded in LA with Chris Franz. But this is not just a new single, it’s a multi-media song package including behind the scenes conversations with my co-writer, producer, and film-maker. Film-maker? Yes, please. There will also be a music video for the song, filmed and produced by Reuben Bucuresteanu. You can get the whole song collection on my website store and the single is on iTunes.

In November, I’ll be releasing another EP with LA based producer Phil Danyew. This project is a lot more electronic-pop, and goes a totally different direction then the October single. I’ll also have another single coming out in November that is much more organic.

TTM: John Mayer, Jason Mraz, and Justin Beiber.  You have to hook up with one, marry another, kill the third.  Who would get what?

TIFFANY: I think I’ll plead the 5^th on this question.  (Editor’s Note: Conor answered the above question as follows… “I’d hook up with all three of them and then find some way to kill Lady Gaga.”)

TTM: Wanna go out sometime?

TIFFANY: Really?   (Editor’s Note: That sounds like a “yes” if I’ve ever heard one.)

Guys like to deal in statements, in commands, in Jen Aniston cleavage references.  We’ll be the ones asking the questions, thank you very much.  Everyone else can shut the hell up – including and especially every late night host not named Conan O’Brien.  Don’t ask us where we want to go for lunch, what we’re wearing tonight, or what time we should leave for the funeral.  If we knew/cared, we’d be doing it already.

There’s no question that questions suck, but, as with all societal ills (and Shia Labeouf movies), there are some that suck more enthusiastically than others.  For example, “Do you like it when I do my hair like this” isn’t necessarily as bad as “How come your Facebook status still says ‘single’” but it’s a far sight worse than “What day is it?”  And don’t even get me started on credibility killers like “why do guys think it’s hot when two girls kiss” or “do you think you could date a girl who was still in high school?”

And yet, even these are not the worst offenders.  It gets much, much worse.  Allow me to present, for your consideration, the worst question in the English language.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

For starters, it’s a question about asking a question, and, as such, is meaningless and entirely unnecessary.  But that’s not the worst of it.  I can deal with unnecessary.  Katy Perry is unnecessary and I still like her.  No, the problem with this question is the specter of doom that comes with it.  It never comes alone and it never comes in peace.  No one ever says, “hey can I ask you something – are you gonna eat the rest of that?”  Or “hey, can I ask you something – how bout them Packers?”

When you hear “hey, can I ask you something”, especially within the context of a dating relationship, you can be sure that a heavy conversation is on the way.  She wants to talk about her mean boss, her hot sister, or whether or not you’ve read that Joshua Harris book she gave you.  Or maybe it’s not that.  Maybe she just wants to talk about “us.”

“Hey can I ask you something – how come you never use your ‘pookey-poo voice’ when we’re at Buffalo Wild Wings with your friends?”  “Hey can I ask you something – if I was paralyzed in a car crash that totally wasn’t my fault, would you still find me attractive?”  It’s like the 4^th Horseman of the Apocalypse – “Its rider’s name was Death, and Hell followed close behind him.” (Rev. 6:8)

This is why, when asked “hey, can I ask you something”, everything inside a guy wants to scream, “No.  NO!  A thousand times, NO!!  In the name of all that is pure and holy, please do not ‘ask me something.’”  But we can’t say that.  Saying that would be an admission of guilt.  So we say “yes” and we turn to face the firing squad.  For my money, I don’t know if there’s a more terrifying moment in human existence than the seconds that pass from the utterance of “hey, can I ask you something” to the asking of the actual question.  Maybe being buried alive.  But probably not.

And it’s all so easily avoidable!  Got something serious to talk about?  Did we say/do/drink something that’s been eating you up inside for the past month?  Just come out with it!  Skip the intro, skip the solicitation of permission – just ask the damn question. We don’t want to talk about it.  We don’t even want to think about it.   But we’re going to anyway.  This is your world; we’re just living in it.  You know it.  We know it.  The people sitting next to us at Panda Express know it.  So let’s just get it over with.

Because, honestly, can I tell you something?

We really don’t care.  Really.

Chicago native of Korean descent also knows no martial arts

HOUSTON – The employment of James Kim as youth pastor at Mt. Olive Baptist church here has resulted in some disappointment among church members, but not for the usual pastoral dissatisfaction reasons.

“When I saw that we had hired him, I was so excited,” said church treasurer Lilly Rudd. “I thought we could finally start an outreach to the Chinese and Filipino populations of Houston, but when he opened his mouth I noticed there was no accent at all – even his l’s and r’s were all pronounced right. That’s when I had to ask him if he even spoke Chinese at all. I was completely speechless when he told me he’d never even been outside the US.”

Kim’s great grandparents emigrated from Korea to Northern Illinois in the early 1920’s. Despite persistent ethnic misconceptions from new acquaintances throughout his life, Kim says that he actually knows very little about Asian cultures.

“Well, I went to high school on the north side of Chicago, I root for the Bears,” Kim said. “My dad’s an engineer, not a convenience store owner, and I don’t really know how to cook any special kinds of food.”

But while he may be completely comfortable in his fully Americanized skin, Kim’s ambivalence toward his heritage is causing some problems in his new position. Kurt Eisen, a longtime member of Mt. Olive Baptist who served on the search committee that ultimately hired Kim, says that he feels Kim misrepresented himself.

“We had a lot of good candidates for the job,” Eisen said. “It was a really close race between some really good guys, and the slightest considerations ended up making the difference. While we may not have discussed it directly with him, the committee talked a lot about how great it would be to start some karate outreach programs with the youth group and how it would be cool to do some Kabuki drama skits on Sundays. Now, it looks like none of that is gonna happen. Needless to say, we were quite disappointed.”

Kim seems unfazed by the nonplussed nature of his new employers.

“We’re talking about starting a basketball ministry to reach out to some of the poorer youth in the African American neighborhoods,” he said. “Then we were talking about some kind of Halo 3 party to draw the kids in, but we’ll have to talk about that, because I’m not very good at video games.”

As far as satiating the hunger of church leaders for some eastern flavor from their youth leader, Kim says that there are a few things that may stand him in better stead over time.

“I’ve had acupuncture a couple of times, and I really liked it,” he said. “Oh, plus, I took some violin lessons as a kid, so I think I’ll be OK.”

HEAVEN – Sources close to Jesus say the Lord has grown weary of greeting lukewarm Christians with the traditional “well done, thou good and faithful servant.”

Christ was seen Monday rolling his eyes at new arrivals who filtered in after Hope Chapel’s bus crashed on its way to a Michael W. Smith concert in Temecula, Calif. “He just sort of looked exasperated when He sighed and waved them over, a la some dock worker helping a trucker back in his rig.” one angel said.

Martin Jones—who got saved at 21 and spent most of his life making millions of dollars while attending Hope’s truncated early service—was stunned. “I was a little embarrassed,” said Jones, 58. “He put His hands on His hips, shook His head, looked me square in the eyes and said: ‘Well, that was real half-assed.’”

New declaration from The Almighty makes gesturing to Him on field a sin

HEAVEN – In a press release issued earlier this month, God declared that professional athletes in any sport who point or gesture in any way in His direction while on the field of play will be subject to the normal penalties for committing a sin.

The policy seems to have been in the works for some time, as the release cites recent audits conducted by heavenly officials of post touchdown and homerun related adulation, which found relatively low levels of sincerity among professional baseball and football players in particular.

James Worthington, president of the Religious Studies Institute – a Chicago-based inter-faith think tank, is convinced that the timing of this new policy being released during the height of the NFL season is no coincidence.

“This is the time of year when you really see the celebrations ramping up, football players pointing with one or both hands and looking heavenward,” Worthington said. “We’ve seen the NFL crack down on celebrations significantly over the years, disallowing props and things like that. I see this as God’s way of saying that he’s not about to put up with being anybody’s prop either.”

The press release itself was relatively short – a mere 777 characters outlining the basics of the new policy, but a heavenly official speaking on the condition of anonymity told The Holy Observer that there were a couple of key factors in addition to the alleged lack of sincerity that prompted The Almighty to make the declaration.

“First of all, I think we can all agree that pointing is rude,” the official said. “Secondly, it’s more or less an open secret up here that God outsourced His sovereignty over sporting events at all levels to a startup firm in Mumbai about five years ago, so I really think he was starting to feel a little funny about taking credit for everything.”

It’s unclear at this point how the new policy will affect on field celebrations, as many well established sin-related policies seem to have had little to no bearing on the behavior of professional athletes historically. However, Worthington expects the new policy to at least have a temporary chilling effect.

“When you have God singling out your behavior directly like this, it tends to get your attention,” he said. “This isn’t like some dusty commandment telling you not to covet your neighbor’s Escalade. This is a fresh fax from cloud nine telling you to knock it off. I expect people to listen – at least until the playoffs.”

Luckily, even though the closest thing I’ve had to a child was a flower some chicks gave me in college that died because I forgot to water it for a week, I’ve been inspired (probably by God, but no guarantees) with a few hundred words of wisdom to guide you through the crap-caked puberty maze that is child rearing.

Part 1: Babies

Let’s get one thing straight. You hate babies. I get it. They don’t talk, they force you to abandon sleep, which you love more than almost anything, and their digestive tract is connected directly to hell. Babies are dumb and selfish and mostly no fun. And super, super breakable. One second the baby is having a good time with the weed-eater, the next second child services is trying to tell you how to be a parent. The hell do they know, right? After nine months of sitting on their asses and literally leeching off of you, you’d think babies wouldn’t be such… babies.

Here are two easy steps for handling these useless nightmares until they’re old enough to contribute:

1. Neglect:
If there’s one thing I learned growing up in an Irish home, it’s that you have to fend for yourself. Teach that lesson to your baby. Why should you have to change a diaper? You didn’t crap your baby’s pants did you? No. That baby knows damn well where the toilet is, it’s just being lazy. A few days of wallowing in its own filth will teach it to get up and take its nasty-butt business to the commode, where it belongs.

And breast feeding? Yougottabekiddingme! First of all, Oedipus, gross. Second of all, Maxim has taught us that boobs are for smashing into bras that are three sizes too small. That is NOT for you to munch on, munchkin. Toss your baby a Powerbar and a half gallon of milk. When the baby gets hungry, it’ll figure it out.

Got something to do? Got a TV? Problem solved. Plop that baby in front of the TV with an episode of Skins and go take that much needed siesta, my friend. TV is the baby opium that moms have been praying for since opium was outlawed. It really doesn’t matter what you put on the TV. Babies don’t give a crap, they’ll watch anything. No standards, the monsters.

2. Take Your Baby Everywhere:
Babies don’t know anything about the world. They’ve spent the first nine months of their lives sitting around and mooching off of their moms like some sweaty WoW addict. No more of that, kiddos. Going to see the latest horror flick, “The Exorcism of the Haunted Scream Halloween Saw: REAL3DTOtheMAX”? Bring your baby along. Everyone in the theater is going to respect you for it. You’re making the hard decision. Sure, maybe your baby will cry, scream, and beg you in baby language to take it home, but you’re the parent that clearly knows best. Stop crying and learn English, baby, and then maybe we can have a real conversation about how watching demons explode out of people’s eyes will put hair on your chest and prepare you to be a well-rounded, non-cannibalistic, non-satanic, non-serial killer when you grow up.

Pretty much every other place you might go is a good place to bring a baby. Crime scene? This is real life. Get used to it. Gym? You’re fat, baby. The world hates fat people. Booby bar? I know you love boobies. Look but don’t touch.

If there does happen to be a situation where, for some weird reason, you decide you’d rather not bring your newborn child, just leave it in the car.

And that’s it. Two easy steps for getting by until your baby becomes a human. Give me a week or twelve and I’ll hit you up again with the next step in How to Cope with Parenting: A Guide. Until then, get out there and show the world a new standard for parenting.

Typically, this is where the Ted Haggard references and “Weinergate” jokes would begin, but this is not your typical story of clerical indiscretion.  Ben Pritchett doesn’t go to Taboo because he’s “into that kind of thing.”  He goes to work.  He goes with permission from his wife and the blessings of his church’s elder board.

Pritchett’s presence at the strip club on this particular evening is part of a ministry focus that he terms “radical relevancy.”  Within the parameters of this initiative, student ministry professionals have license to experiment with all manner of vice in an effort to reach America’s jaded and over-stimulated “Youtube Generation” for the Lord.

After a young woman who calls herself Chastity finishes providing Pritchett with his 3^rd lap dance (aka “immersion experience”) of the evening, the 27 year-old father of four offers some insight as to why his unconventional approach is necessary.

“It used to be that all a youth pastor needed to connect with teens was a pair of cargo shorts and a soul patch.  Maybe some Ben Folds glasses.  Not anymore.  Not when parents are as cool as they are these days.  Moms and dads have Facebook accounts.  They’re hosting post-prom keg parties.  They’re listening to Cee Lo Green.  And if parents are that hip, how’s a Christian Education major like me supposed to stay edgy yet approachable?  I’ll tell you how – booby bars.”

Pritchett, a 4^th generation youth pastor, goes on to say that he first attempted to bridge the generation gap through more traditional means before resorting to his current “shock and awe” approach.

“Listen, broskie, I did it all,” says Pritchett, motioning to his “I Heart Liberty City” T-Shirt to add emphasis to his point.  “I was dropping S-bombs and ‘tard’ in casual conversation.  I was re-tweeting Texts From Last Night during church.  I was watching hours of Spike TV every night.  It wasn’t enough.  I mean, honestly, how many Lonely Island lyrics can one person memorize?”

Apparently not enough.  Citing the Apostle Paul’s exhortation to “become all things to all people” Pritchett began engaging in what he calls “testimony enhancement” exercises.  It started with Four Loko’s and Judd Apatow director’s cuts, progressed rapidly to experimentation with low grade narcotics, and eventually landed him at Taboo, where he can regularly be found dumping trash bags full of offering-plate subsidized singles onto the heads of cosmetically enhanced teen runaways.

Pritchett says it’s too early to tell if his time at Taboo is having an impact on the kids, but initial signs are positive.

“The guys in my Tuesday night small group have all responded really well to my ‘tales of T&A,’’ says Pritchett as he polishes off another Michelob Ultra.  “They’re engaged.  They ask questions.  They stay afterward to discuss it in greater detail.  It’s been really cool to see.”

He also brushes off any implications that his nonchalant engagement with skin bars might be having a negative effect on his students by making morally questionable behavior seem cool or somehow sanctifying.

“It’s like my first boss at the West Orange KFC told me: it doesn’t matter where you get your appetite, as long as you eat at home.  That’s something that I think is so important for the youth of today to understand.”

A Note From the Authors: All of these churches are real.  You can view their websites (most of which are pretty sweet) by clicking the church’s name.  The sole purpose of this article is to mock some churches who, for whatever reason, have chosen some ridiculous names for themselves.  We know almost nothing about the theology, community, or single women to men ratios of any of these churches, and it is not our intent to comment on their sincerity or effectiveness.  They’re probably really great.  We just think their names are stupid.  That is all.

OasisHD

Some call it a gimmick, some call it genius, this church’s philosophy of sermons based solely on lyrics from the musical corpus of the band Oasis is certainly unique. They’ve had to work hard to shake the association with the drunken, degenerate reputation of the Gallagher brothers and “repurpose” the band’s music for The Lord. (I dare you to not have 90s flashbacks when they replace “Wonderwall” with “All-in-All.”)  Apparently they were threatened with a lawsuit when they were just called “Oasis,” so they added HD to avoid a settlement and “because HD TV is so freaking sweet.”

Netcast Church

Podcast Church was taken by some chumps down in Cupertino, CA, so these guys went with the next best thing for reaching the Web 2.0 generation.

Prism Church

Scholars contend that the true meaning of Prism Church’s name has been lost centuries ago.  Some say it has to do with the church being founded by a group of unemployed 8^th grade physics teachers.  Others believe it was named more recently when founding elder Paul “Bear” Vasquez achieved international notoriety as The Double Rainbow Guy.  Considering that the church meets in a mess hall at San Quinton State Penitentiary, it is also possible that the name Prism Church is a failed effort to spell out “Prison Church.”

Epic Faith Church

This is not your grandma’s church.  Heck, if your dad hasn’t partied with Bono, and summated Mt. Everest blindfolded, this isn’t his church either!  A typical sermon at Epic Faith Church consists of a Braveheart battle-scene montage overlaid with a soaring Coldplay anthem and capped off with a James Dean quote written in barbed wire font.  If you got a problem with any of that, Epic Faith would be happy to go out behind the sanctuary/ tattoo parlor/MMA gym and break your nose with a John Eldridge hardback.

Radiant Church

Radiant Church is the only religious community in Alaska aimed solely at pregnant women and people who love lamps.

Aletheia

The founders of this church chose its name (from the Greek word for “organic cigarettes”) by polling the founding members to see what foreign-sounding word the majority had gotten tattooed on their feet during semesters abroad in The Holy Lands.  Other names considered were Koinonia, Diakanoi, and Galifianakis.

The Discovery Church

A church centered around the experience of puberty, Discovery Church delves into the metaphor of Christianity being much like most people’s most awkward stage in life.

Trademark Church

A church that was founded on the principle that litigation is the best form of evangelism, TM Church is currently suing every church that uses the word “church” in their name. Founded by former RIAA lawyers, their aim is to spread the gospel through “aggressive legal action” much like the RIAA plans to boost CD sales by suing music lovers.

The Table

Their communion table really is just that awesome.

ReaLife

Founded in 1996 in an AOL chatroom as an answer to “Pretend Church,” ReaLife Church was originally written rEaLifE cHuRcH. They’ve since matured and changed their name to the slightly less confusing ReaLife Church.  One can’t help but respect their efforts to reduce their “alphabet footprint” by omitting that wasteful and totally unnecessary second L.

Baptist Temple

Contrary to context clues, this is not a congregation made up entirely of messianic Jews and Matisyahu fans. Simply put, this is a church trying to stay competitive in a cutthroat Baptist church market. One congregant explained it best: “Temple sounds old, and that is way legit.”

The Fields Church

The website says it all: for swingers and singles only!  The Fields Church seeks to create a safe and sacred environment for Christians who describe their relationship status as “playing the field.”  Whether you’re a serial monogamist or an unrepentant man whore, The Fields Church provides myriad outlets to minister, mingle, and make out.  Forget about christiansingles.com.  Come play The Fields!