The Church of the Everlasting Groove has a very simple goal.
We are charged by the Funky Lord to go forth and spread our particular breed of insanity across the far expanses of the globe.
We do not recognize differences in race, nationality, or ethnicity. We do not discriminate against anyone based on matters of sexuality, wealth, or educational background. In fact, membership in our Church, becoming, as the kids say, a "Funky Monkey," does not require one to even know of the Church’s existence. The inherent Funk in any person gives them automatic membership; for this reason, we are, quite possibly, the largest Church in the world. We see everyone as citizens of humanity under the great, powerful, and indubitably Funky Lord.
For the Lord is Funky, brothers and sisters, and He asks very little of His flock. He asks only that "you gotta hear the Groove and shake some booty" (Funklesiastes 7:3).
In the past, critics of the Church (those who have closed their hearts and booties to the Glory of the Funk) have accused us of discriminating against the physically disabled, those who are unable, for various reasons, to engage in the sacred ritual of "The Shaking of the Booty." This is a lie, my Funky Congregation. You do not have to be able to dance to participate in the ceremonial booty shaking; a tap of the foot or a nod of the head will show the Funky Lord his due. Some of us, your humble Reverend included, don’t even enjoy dancing or do it so poorly as to embarrass the Funky Lord. "When it comes to the basics of Funk, a head-bang’s just as good as a bump and grind, y’all" (Letters from St. Jonesy 12:12). As far as critics of the Church go, Jonesy also had this to say, quoting a sermon from the Funky Savior Himself, "Fat Back" Jackson...
"The cat that tries to get down without the Funk ain’t doing nothing but selling you jive." (St. Jonesy 18:7)
We at the Church hope that you will let the Funk into your heart (and booty) and save yourself from the boring, inane, soul-crushing, and utterly damning influence of the Anti-Funk. Have no comfortable delusions, brothers and sisters, the Anti-Funk is alive on this world and flourishing. One need only turn on the radio or TV to be inundated with Darkness Merchants peddling artists, musicians, and vacuous personalities who wouldn’t know the Funk if it called and invited them over for cocktails.
Our media is run by Funkless Turkeys more interested in pleasing the Funkless Masses than giving life a good, swift kick in the ass.
The government is frighteningly bereft of Funkiness. Ever since the newly canonized St. James Brown wrote his brilliant political treatise "Funky President," we’ve only had one elected official to qualify as an Esteemed Funk Master. He played the sax, he played the field, and he was the only presidential candidate to receive the full support of the Church. Remember, Bill, the annual Catfish Fry, Barbeque, and Funk Festival is at your pad this year!
I’ll leave you now, my Funky Monkeys, with a bit of wisdom from one of the Sacred Cuts.
As Kool and the Gang said, "Feel the Funk, y’all. Let it flow." ("Jungle Boogie," ‘73)