Saddle up For Jesus, Ya'll

Head 'Em Up, Move 'Em Out

I really don't know how I find these things, but I do.

There is a church in Henderson, TX and it is the Circle C Cowboy Church. You're just dying to know what a cowboy church is, aren't you, pardner? According to their pastor, Bronco Billy the Baptist Dynamo, it's a church for horse people who don't want to dress up. That's right! Cowpokes who just can't rustle up the gumption to put on their Sunday best. Aw shucks! You can even go in your overalls, should you own any. Which I don't, nor will I ever.

Do you think they use pork rinds and campfire coffee for their communion? Rodeo clowns as ushers? Bucking pews? Cowboy hats as offering plates? A fiddler instead of an organist? Sinner roping contests? Have Jesus lassoed to the cross sporting a crown of barbed wire?

Make sure you check out the photos, especially the one of the pulpit. It's crafted out of the finest, hand-forged horseshoes this side of the Mississippi. What else would a pulpit be made from at a horse church? There's also an article that tells all about this past Sunday's service which included that snappy tune we all adore, "Jesus Put a Yodel in My Soul."

You really did just read that right, and I am so not making it up. Has Jesus put a yodel in your soul? I thought he put one in mine once, but it was just some bad cashew chicken I'd eaten the night before.

All I can say is, "More cowbell for Christ!"

Coming Soon

Fwig the Magnificent (that's his stage name) has given me an idea for a new Flumadiddle feature. In fact, he demanded that I start an advice column. So, I'm going to steal gather real questions from answer-needy people all across this fine land of the internet, and then give my advice. 'Cause that's how an advice column works.

So I guess I'll shut up now and get started on that.

One more thing- I've somehow managed to wear off the "n" on my keyboard at the office and here at home. Do I really type "n" more than other letters, or do I just have some strange habit of unconsciously rubbing the "n" key? And is that Freudian in any possible way?

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who can't stop yodeling.