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Backwoods church memories: share em if you got em. Or more broadly, what are the dumbest things you’ve ever seen a religious person individually do?

My moms family was backwoods pentecostal, they believed in everything except handling snakes. These kinds of churches would have weeklong revivals with loud live music, singing and extended ecstatic experiences that they could have gotten out of their system in a weekend if they had just tried funk, molly, and sex. They would speak in tongues, dance and shout, almost literally jump the pews, very literally run the aisles around the whole church whooping and hollering like Yosemite Sam and pass out in the overwhelming spirit of acceptance and love they felt sometimes.

After studying ecstatic experiences and flow states from all cultural angles I still don’t know what to make of it sometimes. They definitely worked themselves up into an authentic frenzy, on a false premise, in some incredible ways. It was exciting, confusing, and concerning to watch. It was like pro wrestling: you know it’s fake deep down but still no less impressive a feat. I preferred it greatly to my dad’s family and private school’s brand of buttoned up united Methodist religion. Listen to Ray Stevens’ Mississippi Squirrel Revival for a great description of that type of church turning Pentecostal for a moment.😂

Anyways, back to my mothers family. My maternal grandma was one of about 7 and most all of them were gospel singers. 4 or 5 of them had a locally touring gospel group. My grandmother and her brothers and sisters were talented in some ways and clueless in others.

My favorites were my Uncle Allen and Aunt Betty. They were sweet people, the least religious or judgemental of the bunch. Now, Paul Simon - “You can call me Al” always reminds me of them. My next favorite was my Uncle Gary. He led the music at our church and sounded like Buddy Holly when he sang. Uncle Junior was a big barrel chested man that would belt out one particular song he wrote in church but wasn’t much of a singer otherwise.

Aunt Lois and her husband, Uncle Jessie were the more repressed of the bunch. I learned later in life that they had gotten married in the 50s when he was 21 and she was 14. Different times, and it was the south, but still. He was a tan little bald man that looked like Mickey Rooney if he had grown up hillbilly with one jutting lower tooth. His heart was usually in the right place but he always seemed like a bit of a smug prick to me.

He was the pastor of his own church in the next town, and a musician as well. His church always had a drum kit and electric bass, things that you’d only hear when a special act came through to play a revival at mom n grandma’s church.

My parents always wanted me to show off my musical abilities to him, to which he’d say something like “that’s pretty good you know, but you oughtta quit playin the devils music and play in church.”

Some of my earliest doubts about religion was because of his attitude. The music I’m playing is mostly about love, and if that’s against god... then wtf?

One of the last conversations I had with him was him bragging: “You know I took this old 1970s fender bass I had down to the music shop and traded em for a brand new one!” 🤭 gulp.

Translation: he traded a 70’s fender P-bass made in America almost certainly worth several thousand dollars for what was probably a 250 dollar made in Mexico bass. Fuck me, they saw him comin!

I sure wish I had half of the PA equipment, mics and instruments my family amassed back then. I’d play the hell out of some devil’s music with it. 😈

Wurlitzer 8 July 4
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I’ve seen atheists and agnostics believe they can win the lottery. That’s pretty much out there!

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I have been an atheist since age 13. At age 15, I had a sleepover with a friend. "We'll take you home after church," her parents said. Off we went.

At their church, people were talking in tongues, shrieking and falling on the floor, writhing with their eyes rolled up in thier heads.

"These people are crazy," I thought, horrified.

"I'm leaving," I told my friend. "I will wait for you outside." And left.

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You want backwoods? I will give you backwoods. Okay, mid-70s, rural back in the hills Ohio. Woman pastor of a small free will baptist church. A young man, age 24 had died. He was laying in an open casket in the front. About 40 people at the service, small church. She started singing, " Oh do Lord, Oh do Lord, Do remember me, Oh do Lord, oh do Lord, Do remember me, I've been a sinner but now I am free, Oh do Lord, do remember me". If her singing was all it was fine, but she stood directly over the casket and swung her right arm down, and I swear to the holy choir of angels who lines the pearly gates and sings for money, that she almost was hitting the body on each very emphatic swing on the words ....Oh do Lord..... That, and she weight 400 lbs and was belting out the song in such a volume as to stir our souls to new heights of fearfulness at being cast down into the fiery pit of doom. My girlfriend and I almost expected her to raise the young man up from the casket. A sight (and sound) I will never forget.

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Wonder if that music store told him the value of what he was getting rid of?
Seems like they could use some ethics lessons if not.

Yeah, unethical for sure. on the other hand, if you’ve been a musician for 50+ years and don’t realize that shit from the 60s n 70s is always worth way more than new shit, I’ve got very little sympathy for that level of density.

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