Weenie roast
by Jon Worley

I've been reading and hearing all sorts of diatribes against the Promise Keepers movement ever since Bill McCartney quit the football business to join the God racket. And anyone who has spent more than five seconds in my presence knows I'm no fan of these self-proclaimed "men of integrity" or any other self-righteous religious types. Last Friday I happened to be in D.C. to attend the World Cup qualifier against Jamaica (don't talk to me about that dreadful performance), and I happened to share mucho Metro space with a lot of Promise Keepers. I have but one word to share with you.

Dorks. These guys are all dorks. They're insurance agents. They're accountants. They're (gasp) Lady Kenmore salesmen. They're not the stuff of nightmares as many pundits would have you believe.

Alright, so some of the doctrine is a bit absurd. I've never been one for absolutist solutions, and the notion that a man must be the head of the household for spiritual and other matters is archaic and rather sexist. But if you could have seen these guys, you would have known that never in a million years would these men the head of any household in which they are a part. They're whipped. Hen-pecked. Generally soft.

And I mean soft in that the vast majority of the guys (even the boys) that I saw had beaucoups excess baggage when it comes to flesh. In other words, they were fat.

You know the type. You see him on the bus every day. As often as not, the tie isn't on quite straight and the belt is slung below the ample belly. The pants hang so low on the ass you're rather afraid you might soon be getting an unwanted matinee performance of Senor Crack and his lovely Dingleberries. He talks in short sentences, usually without adjectives or adverbs. He seems rather intent upon simply surviving the bus ride. Actually performing at work is a battle that he will fight later. Competence, not excellence, is his goal.

Okay, so I did overhear some twisted stuff dribble forth from the mouths of the Promise Keepers. One guy actually said "I was praying the other night, and God told me to buy MCI. This was two days before the World Com announcement. Praise Jesus!" There was another conversation that involved God saving his marriage by instructing his wife on the proper way to give head. I wanted to ask if his God went by the name of Xaviera, but that seemed a bit out of line.

A couple black guys sitting behind me had a fascinating take on their Friday travails. They were both tired, and quite ready to get in their motel room and crash.

"Hey, man, can you imagine what it was like for the brothers in the sixties?"

"Oh, yeah, walkin' around in suits and dress shoes. And they didn't have airsoles in Birmingham."

"If that was me, I'd have been like 'Alright, half a mile is cool enough. I'm gonna go chill now.' No way would you have gotten me to go through all of that."

They both laughed. So did I. Those two guys understood exactly what this whole Promise Keepers thing is all about. It isn't about changing the world or anything of external importance. It's just a thing these guys are doing that they think might make them better people. And I don't have a problem with that, or with any of the guys who wandered into D.C. for the weekend.

The leaders? Well, almost all of the men I saw were wearing Promise Keepers hats or Promise Keepers polos. Some had both. I happen to know that it costs $60 to get into one of the regular arena prayerfests, and while the Mall event this weekend was free, these guys probably spent a lot more than $60 on Promise Keepers paraphernalia. Where does that money go, and what does it do? That's a seriously sinister line of inquiry, and from what I've seen, the concessions books aren't open to the public.

But a million (or 500,000, or whatever) dorks on the Mall? Well, lots of people whined about the Million Man March, and I'd have to characterize it the same way. If you're gonna tell me that Louis Farrakhan is something other than a dork, you're gonna have to get him to drop the bowtie and get a new 'do. He may be a somewhat hateful dork, but there's plenty of folks who are much more evil and deserve serious censure. We can start with one of my senators, Sanctimonious Rick Santorum. Now, there's a Dick we should render impotent ASAP.

About 50,000 people watched Jamaica and the U.S. tie 1-1 in RFK Stadium Friday night. About 500,000 (give or take a hundred thousand) male members of the human race stood out on the Mall Saturday to renew their promises. Jon Worley thinks these numbers should somehow have been reversed, but he's not going to make a big stink about it.

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