We’re a week away from our annual Fat Tuesday Talent Show. Last year we did a Friars Club Roast theme.
This is what my son, Alexander, served up on me:
At first, Elaine and Teer asked me to roast Dennis tonight. But that would be like shooting fish in a barrel.
So I decided to roast my Dad instead.
I think my Dad is the awesomest guy in the world. Of course, so does my Dad.
People are always asking me what it’s like to be a pastor’s kid. And I’m always like: ‘I don’t know. Don’t clowns have kids too?’
Here at church, all my Dad talks about is God, Jesus, the bible.
But at home, all my Dad talks about is himself: how awesome he is, how “brilliant” he is, how funny he is, how talented he is.
And he is talented. In ways you probably don’t know. For example, did you know my Dad can sing? It’s true.
On those rare occasions when my Dad actually takes a shower, you can hear him in there belting out ‘You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman.’
My Dad has other talents too.
He knows how to tell my Mom to fix the car.
He knows how to ask my Mom to get her tools and fix the sink.
He knows how to hold tools for my Mom when she’s hanging shelves.
Now, some of you people make fun of my Dad for wearing booty shorts to church.
Let me just say, you’ve got it easy. You’ve got nothing to complain about.
Imagine what it’s like for me. Imagine what it’s like to get picked up at school or swim practice by a Dad wearing booty shorts?
Imagine what it’s like when your classmates ask: ‘Is that guy in the tights your Dad?’
And in those moments all I can say is…‘Well…..I’m adopted.’
I mean, my Dad’s tights are so tight I can tell exactly how much change he has in his pocket.
Seriously, as bad as my Dad dresses at church, you should just be thankful he’s dressed at all.
At home, my Dad just walks around in his whitey tighties.
In fact, I don’t have an alarm clock. I don’t need one. I know it’s time to wake up in the morning when I hear my Mom yell: ‘Jason, you can’t walk around like that. Put some pants on.’
Some of you are critical of my Dad, from time to time. But it doesn’t really faze him.
Narcissism is helpful that way.
If you really want to upset my Dad, don’t criticize him. Just show him the trailer to the Blind Side. It only takes about 3 seconds of the Blind Side for my Dad to start crying like a baby with a poopy diaper.
Here at church, you hear my Dad talk a lot about how Dennis is old, forgetful, lazy, obvious, boring, tired, uninspired, old, predictable, vain, shallow, past his prime, full of himself, phones it in, takes credit for others’ work….
just to name a few things.
But here’s the funny thing—- at home, that’s exactly how we talk about my Dad.
He’s just like Dennis.
But with less hair.
You may have heard already that this year our project in Guatemala is toilets.
Thousands of kids die in places like Guatemala every day from diseases they get from dirty water. So it’s an important project for you to support.
It is also an appropriate project for my Dad considering how
A) my Dad is full of it
B) how much time my Dad spends on the toilet.
He goes in there and…….disappears.
He spends more time in the bathroom than those old guys at Mt Vernon Rec Center.
We don’t know what my Dad does in there.
The lunar cycle goes faster than my Dad’s potty breaks.
Thank you for coming tonight. I hope you give lots of money so that tonight will be a success.
I’m sure that if it is a success, my Dad will say it was his idea.