Chris Rock uncensored on qualifications for TFI membership

from ErikMagnusLehnsher - Tuesday, February 28, 2006
accessed 1311 times

[Begin fictitious Chris Rock monologue]

My research on The Family International has led to me raise the question of the qualifications for membership. I mean how do you know if this is the right group for you and if you’re right for them…if you're TFI material? Or in my neighborhood: What kinda stupid muthafucka you gotta be?

I think that the answer is summed up by what may be regarded as the group's theme song early in the movement: “You gotta be a baby”. When I say "baby" I ain't talkin' about the Pepsi baby winkin' at the sexy models. I ain't talkin' about Bruce Willis making wise-cracks in "Looks who's talking". Folks, I'm talking about the baby in the highchair that gets fed a spoonful of babyfood mush containing liver, brussel spouts and eggplant and has a big smile on his face. The one who gets that same food mixed with his own drool scooped of his chin and then marvels at the fake helicopter sounds and claps his hands as the food goes back in his mouth. THAT'S the kinda baby you gotta be!

Let me be clear here: You gonna have to be a stupid muthafucka. I'm not talkin' about "Is chicken-of-the-sea made from chicken?" stupid. I'm not talkin' about “I didn't know buffalos had wings” stupid. I'm not even talkin' about Bobby Boucher's "You are wrong Colonial Sanders and Momma’s right about why gators are grumpy! EEEEEAAAAII!!!" stupid. I'm talking about a special group requiring a special kind of stupid.

Every kid raised in this group has heard a story about the group's founder approaching a yard with a Great Dane that instructs children to "Rebuke the Devil in Jesus Name" and not run away when they see a big angry dog. My first thought? BULLSHIT! Now I don't know about you but when I was a kid delivering newspapers and I saw a big dog, I high-stepped outta there as fast as my little feet could carry me. Every instinct in my body screamed: "Get the FUCK outta here!". The Exorcism of Cujo is gonna' have to wait because that dog is looking at your ass like it's a bag of Big League Chew.

The funny thing is this group has answers for everything...and I mean everything. The problem is that most of the answers are shitty answers that don't make a damn bit of sense unless, of course, you're a stupid muthafucka. Now because they got all the answers you gotta ask the next question: What's the poor kid supposed to do if the dog doesn't stop running and decides to chew his ass off? You guessed it: "God made ya'...so He can fix ya". As usual, it's a shitty answer...but it is an answer. But seriously, does that mean God's gonna help you grow a new ass? God Damn! Just thinking about it makes my ass hurt. RUN MUTHAFUCKA! RUN!

Imagine this: You are presented with a "prophecy from Jesus" and corresponding artwork featuring a six-fingered Cathar-girl and additional prophecies about how this special six-fingered spirit helper drawing was inspired by Jesus and he had been taking control of the hand of this Family artist to supernaturally cause her to make this "mistake". You are subsequently presented by "enemies" with proof that this artwork was basically traced from old art by a "systemite". Folks, this is equivalent to private eye Gus Petch (Cedric the Entertainer) with a video camera busting down the door to your hotel and catching you having extra-marital sex and yelling, "I'm gonna nail your ass!". TFI responds with an explanation about how Jesus inspired the original artist and there are new demons trying to make you doubt the prophecies published by the TFI which you should aggressively rebuke. Now if this explanation makes perfect sense to you and addresses your doubts, then you, my brotha' are qualified to be a Family Member. Sign the fuck up. Not today…not tomorrow…YESTERDAY!

Further imagine this: Tomorrow TFI publishes a "Who says we're Dead" prophecy from beyond the grave courtesy of Sean Connery. "Sean" explains that Heaven is really different than he expected and after a few weeks of scrubbing Father David's toilets as penance for all those movies that didn't make TFI’s movie list he's been promoted to dishwasher. Sean goes on to explain that he's now God's man-whore and works in the spirit world to help TFI make spiritual love to hungry sheep. Sean enjoys romantic walks on the beach with Jesus and is learning to receive Jesus' seeds of love and truth with his receptive he-pussy. In his spare time he's working on a book that he'll be sharing in prophecy and will be published by TFI. Now if you read this and think, "Despite the fact that Sean Connery is still alive, that prophecy describes Heaven exactly as I would have pictured it and that prophecy is definitely true" then you, my friend, are Family material all the way and don’t let NOBODY tell you otherwise.

By the way, Sean Connery’s book will be available on Amazon next month and I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it’s probably a lock for Oprah’s book club. The title? “The Man-gina Monologues”.

Thank you very much.

[End Monologue]