Sunday, April 19, 2009

AVE MAMMA MIA

About a week ago, the Missus and I were driving along Roswell Road, headed toward Marietta to pick up a few things at Harry’s Farmers Market.

[I’ll interject a comment here about local road nomenclature... because it can be a source of confusion. Roads hereabouts are named for where they take you: thus, if you are in Roswell, you take the Marietta Highway to travel towards Marietta. The same east-west road is called Roswell Road in Marietta, because - you guessed it - it takes you in the direction of Roswell.

Here, I make reference to Roswell Road, but for additional clarity I should say “Roswell Road 120” to differentiate between the east-west Roswell Road and the north-south Roswell Road (Roswell Road 9). Or I could say “Upper Roswell Road” by way of distinguishing between Upper Roswell Road, i.e., Roswell Road 120, and Lower Roswell Road. Confused? Good. You’re normal.]

Anyway, as the Missus and I were traveling along Roswell Road, AKA Upper Roswell Road, AKA Roswell Road 120, her eagle-eyes caught a sign on a brick office building that advertised the presence of a church.

It’s unusual enough for a church to set itself up in an office building - generally, such institutions prefer stand-alone facilities - but what struck her as even more unusual was the name of the church:

ABBA Church

World headquarters of the Church of ABBA.

By George! Here was a House of Worship dedicated to the Supreme Swedish Disco-Band... ABBA!

It makes sense, I suppose. There are plenty of people who are members of the Church of the Resurrected, Reconstituted, Revitalized, and Rehabilitated Elvis... so why not a church for ABBA?

I don’t dare guess what the liturgy is like, but I suspect the hymns are eminently listenable, hooky affairs that stick to your brains... earworms all. And you can dance to ’em under the flashing, sparkling lights of the Eternal Disco Ball.

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