This post, a week old from Wellsung, caused me to stop what I was doing (mostly, though not entirely, wasting time) and go outside for a smoke. Were this the 18th century and I a foppish dandy, I would fain swoon, that my senses be no longer affronted.
It taps into two things: the weird place Messiah holds in my heart, given my indifference to the church-y, church-y stuff otherwise, and my utter loathing for Rent. When the filmed adaptation came out, so to speak, last year (??), the halls were alive with that insipid opening track.
In any event, it's still funny. Mostly, though not entirely, for the last joke. Sort of like my recall of that silly phrase from the first sentence of this post just now.