Can you imagine Rip Wheeler (Dutton Ranch) attending one of our highly effeminized evangelical churches? Yep, Rip himself pulling up in his mudcaked heavy duty Ram truck amidst the sea of minivans, Teslas and Priuses.
Picture it: See Rip ascending the steps to the church entrance where he’s greeted by four women and one man. The too-excited quasi-male greeter hands Rip a pastel colored flyer covering all the weddings, baby showers, birthdays and picnics.
Moving past the greeters, Rip is then hit with more contrived hugs than a Fraser Crane led support group. Attempting to avoid this barrage of groping flabby arms from folks he does not know but is now expected to embrace, Rip tries to fade from view and take refuge against the wall and out of the way.
Finally out of reach and trying hard to avoid eye contact with anyone, Rip keeps his gaze on the art work. On his right are six matching prints of fat baby angels in Little Rascal poses looking like they’ve got a good buzz going from mommy’s milk that’s been liberally laced with too much Mountain Dew and NuPrin. On his left are three other AI-generated images that depict Jesus, Peter and John the Baptist looking like Victorian Era bearded women who just found out that they have Chlamydia instead of stalwart heralds of the Greatest Story ever told.
Finally it’s go time. Rip strides into the sanctuary that looks more like a gay nightclub than a proper place of worship. Rip notices the crowd is made up of 80% women, 19% chestless tinkerpots and 1% masculine dudes.
The music begins. The song leader is some dude who looks like he was raised by way too many women. The “worship” music is aphoristic and cliched riddled. It’s subjective, reflective, emotional and a bit erotic; singing about Jesus being “my lover.” After the songmeister finishes his sassy set he then tells the crowd to “turn around and tell three people you love them with the love of the Lord” upon which Rip makes his exit not being able to take this effete bunkum any longer.
Consciously or unconsciously, Rip realized that to convert to this brand of Christianity he must hand over his brains and balls at the front door. Indeed, he must sacrifice his God given innate masculine traits that make him an alpha dawg and Rip can’t do that because Rip ain’t no wuss.
