Let me share a story...when I was heavily pregnant and unable to move very fast, my husband who's name rhymes with Hess Hartin, used to fart loudly while we were both in a store aisle, then run away leaving me standing there while everyone turned around and stared at me, because obviously it's the huge pregnant lady that so shamelessly unloaded in aisle 5. Then you'd hear the faint giggling of a 12 year old boy in a grown man's body one row over. Good times.
Let me share a story...when I was heavily pregnant and unable to move very fast, my husband who's name rhymes with Hess Hartin, used to fart loudly while we were both in a store aisle, then run away leaving me standing there while everyone turned around and stared at me, because obviously it's the huge pregnant lady that so shamelessly unloaded in aisle 5. Then you'd hear the faint giggling of a 12 year old boy in a grown man's body one row over. Good times.
It's quite the paradox, where church music is better than so called professionals.
The professionals are isolated from critical thinkers.