Can you imagine Dirty Harry Callahan attending a highly effeminized church? 

Dirty Harry is a rough, butt-kicking character portrayed on the movie screen by Clint Eastwood, an accomplished man and a noted actor and director.  Envision Callahan pulling into the parking lot in a black Range Rover amidst a sea of minivans and station wagons.

Picture it.

Hesitantly, Harry gets out of his ride, straightens his Ray Bans, adjusts his jacket and begins the testosterone death march to the front door of the ?sanctuary.?

Ascending the steps toward the entrance of the church, fourteen women and one man greet Harry.  The male greeter he?s forced to interface with is the kind of guy you wouldn?t want to have as your young son?s babysitter.  I?m talking a Mango meets Dom De Luise amalgam. 

The excessively excited quasi-male greeter hands Harry a pastel-colored flyer detailing all the weddings, baby showers, birthdays, picnics and covered dish dinners for that month, and then he plasters Mr. Callahan?s suit with an "I'm a Visitor" smiley face sticker.

Moving past the ?greeter,? Callahan is then hit with more contrived hugs than he would face at a Stuart Smalley-run support group.  Attempting to avoid this barrage of groping, flabby, clutching arms belonging to people he doesn't know, but now is expected immediately to embrace, he tries to fade from view and take refuge against the wall.  Unfortunately for him, he cannot hide because the floral arrangements in the narthex are so profuse that they make an FTD warehouse look like the Mojave Desert.  With no other recourse, Harry frantically begins to move two big sprays and one gaudy wreath in a worried attempt to carve out a refuge from this molestation. 

Finally, out of reach and trying hard to avoid eye contact with anyone, Harry starts whistling and locks his gaze on the artwork.  On his right are six matching prints of fat baby angels in various Little Rascal poses; they look like they have a good buzz going from their mommy?s milk, laced as it is with Diet Coke and Xanax.  Book-ending the baby angel prints are two Precious Moments posters: one shows Christ holding a bunny rabbit, and the other one shows Christ skipping while carrying a lamb.  On Dirty Harry?s left are three pieces of art which depict Jesus, Peter and John the Baptist, all in aggravated states of angst, looking more like soft-focused and melancholic Victorian women than the men they were: masculine revolutionaries, heralds of truth, and rough pioneers of the greatest story ever told.

 Finally it is go time.  The service is begins.

Harry strides into the mauve and cream sanctuary, taking his seat amidst a crowd that is made up of 80% women, 1% masculine men and 19% quasi-males.

The music starts.

It is aphoristic, predictable and clich?iddled.  It is subjective, reflective, emotional and a bit erotic, with Jesus being sung to as ?my lover.?  After two hours of three chords and four songs, the worship leader commands the congregation to turn around and ... yep ? here it goes again ... hug three people and tell them ?you love them with the love of the Lord.?

Harry can?t take it anymore. 

He makes a quick strategic exit before he hurls on the pews because of the over-the-top, saccharine-laced liturgy.  Continued...