Yet there’s still one more realm I explore in conjecture:
the sounds at that gathering. Classical? Rock?
Unending revivalist Christian refrains?
Shall we headbang in heaven with glorified brains?
Psychedelic/psychotic . . . or Handel and Bach?
(Lighten up. It’s the end of my bible-school lecture.
You’ve seen a few rooms of my castle-in-air,
and we ALL know it’s reggaethey’re playing up there…)
I find Veggietales annoying and devoid of significant Christian doctrine . . . but to call it racist is ludicrous.
Then again, I could never live in a neighborhood full of eggplants.
And those cucumbers are SO loud and offensive.
Nonetheless, some of my best friends are carrots.
Anyway, I’m married to a tomato.