Reverend, Really?

It was brung to my attention that the blog has been real light on band gossip lately, and since I promised to visit the topic on occasion, I reckon it’s time I told y’all how that whole “reverend” thing came about. After all, as some of my friends have long noted, calling me reverend is like calling a beer can opener a church key, and I have neither a somber demeanor nor a subdued taste in attire. I do have a rather unfortunate tendency to pontificate, particularly when in my cups, but the actual reason is titty blindness. I never really noticed this problem ’til late in my music career when I was playing with Branded. No matter how many rabid female fans flashed the stage, I always seemed to be looking in the wrong direction, causing me no end of aggravation; after all, having a better angle to see naked mammary glands in crowds of music lovers was the whole reason I got into the music biz and up on the stage to begin with. It became a constant source of disappointment, as the band continued to improve, and female fans increasingly began to show us their appreciation. It got so bad, that whenever a magnificent pair of whoppers was prominently displayed at one of our shows, the girl singer would turn her head from the mic and yell “Boobies!” at me from across the stage, so I wouldn’t miss nuthin’. The running gag was that I really didn’t wanna see ’em, on account of being too religious; hence “Reverend”. Seriously. Happy April first!


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