Madman A' Crossin' The Water!

Well I'll be a Monkey's Relation™. If it isn't the swingingest Savior this side of bloody Bethlehem. On a day of worship, no less. Dancing Jesus®! Let me get a look at you, you old Son of Man®. Freshly-laundered knee-length whites, corded Gideon's Bible belt about your middle, open-toed leather-like sandals underfoot. Bravo! You look like a million farthings for Christ's — which is to say, Your — sake. Have you lost weight? A daily diet of fish and cloves will clean one out ten ways to Sunday mass, but it appears to suit you fine, your long-haired Lordship. Tell me, Dancing Jesus, what brings you out of the temple on this fine and lovely morn? A desire to catch some heavenly rays and shaketh thy tuchus atop the water? Brilliantine™! Let the self-righteous Citizen Messiahs™ beat their breasts and sermonize on the mountain about the evils of midsectional gryration. You've got moves to bust! Bikini'd bottoms to grind! Ecstasy® to drop! Get thee behind me in the conga line, Satan. Dancing Jesus is about to waltz on the bloody water!