clip of the invocation offered prior to the NASCAR’s Nationwide Federated Auto Parts 300 by Pastor Joe Nelms of the Family Baptist Church, who channeled Ricky Bobby’s “boogity boogity boogity” between The Lords’ name and “amen.”
The “prayer,” if you want to call it that, is out there. I predict that you will soon find Nelm’s face pasted adjacent to dictionary definitions for “blasphemy” for daring to include everything from autoparts to racing fuel to his “smokin’ hot wife” in the alleged invocation. About all the delivery has invoked is a few nervous chuckles by some, and outrage by those who still take prayer seriously.
I’m mulling this over this morning as I sit down the hall from one of the most-public champions of culture retention in America today, Laura Ingraham, who’s been bold enough to stand up and say, no, it’s not cool to send texted photos of private parts as a new dating ritual; no, it’s not cool to demean women in song lyrics, even though the reigning awards-givers of the day have lauded Cee-Lo’s antics as “genius.” (How much genius does it take to inject an “f-bomb” into every other line of a song?)
Recently it was announced Charlie Sheen was being “rewarded” with another television show.
Here’s a guy that cannot string two thoughts together, walked out on his former employer in a totally-classless way, and who’s claim to fame is drug and alcohol fueled sex binges. His character on Two and a Half Men was not too far removed from reality, apparently, with each episode depicting a romp (or two) with a new woman each week. With that kind of trash being awarded for exellence, is it any wonder kids today are resorting to “sexting” as courting tactics?
There is a deeper problem in America than how we’re going to fund our debt, whether we’re gaining or losing jobs, and how the environment may or may not survive without carbon credits. It is a problem that more serious than who the next President may be. The country is in a battle for its collective soul, and the crumbling of our culture is a clue that the war is far from over.
If you thought the Baptist Preacher was entertaining with his “boogity boogity boogity” bump, you’re wrong. Frankly, were I a NASCAR driver, I’d have been a little leery of stepping onto the track for fear of being struck by lightning after that kind of a “prayer.” Fortunately, it probably never went higher than the top of the grandstand.