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The sermon for Wednesday, Jun. 26, 2002 is: oh comely 12:29 a.m. Oh, and this note is for Stephanie, if you ever read this: After "Oh Comely," when someone suddenly shouts "Holy SHIT!", I think it odd that you find it so hilarious. To me, that's where Jeff Mangum's craftsmanship becomes overwhelmed by his emotion, to me this is where it becomes art, human and divine. He wants to save Anne Frank. Like Holden Caulfield, he wants to be the catcher in the rye. But all he can do is sing, and so he sings out a desparate warning: know who your enemies are (we know who our enemies are). But even this won't suffice. When he throws down his guitar and shouts "holy SHIT!", it reminds me of the moment when Vincent van Gogh, painting his sunflowers, threw down his paintbrushes and pulled out his gun and shot himself in the head. The beauty and the pain and the trembling frailty of the art that could reconcile or redeem them both prove too overwhelming. Holy shit. FOOTNOTE 26/6/02 11.39AM: Thanks, Stephanie, for your response. I forget that not all laughter is derived from mockery or fear. You just may have restored my faith in humankind. Maybe. 
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