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"We gonna have a straight-up blast."
As it turns out, the money was well spent. Addicted to Jesus made me feel morally
superior to its creator, and it entertained me as well. Had it inspired in me the
same sort of faith that Carman professes to have, my satisfaction
with it would have been even greater, but one musn't ask for too much...
Addicted to Jesus kicks off with a commercial encouraging viewers to purchase more videotapes from Carman. Indeed, if you join his Time 2 Club, you can receive, on a monthly basis, videotapes featuring the latest "high-energy Christian programming," complete with music videos, interviews, and lots of shots of people playing basketball. While Carman neglects to say how much these videotapes cost, he does promise you a free one if you join now.
There are two possible motives that underlie this quick pitch for more product, I think. One, Carman's desire to spread the Gospel is so strong he feels compelled to immediately tell novice God-seekers that in addition to Addicted to Jesus, there is a whole panoply of Christian programming available to them to help foster their spiritual growth. Or two, he really wants to sell a lot of videotapes. Perhaps if Carman looked a little less like an ace car salesman or an Atlantic City gambler, the first interpretation might seem more plausible...
Unfortunately, in his closing sales pitch for the additional videotapes, Carman inflicts even graver damage to his credibility. "Join me as a Time 2 Club Video member," he begins, hands waving and eyebrows arching in a moment of seeming earnestness. "We're going to have a great time together." But then, as if unable to suppress the unfiltered, true-heart mack daddy that still exists beneath his veneer of Christian politesse, he scrunches up his face like a little boy, flashes a mischievous grin, and amends himself in a manner his target teen audience will presumably better appreciate: "Naaah...we gonna have a straight-up blast."