Sometimes taking a chance really pays off

Some entertainment options are a sure bet, like Steve Martin coming to town with his banjo band. Guaranteed to be a fun show. Or Lyle Lovett coming back with his Large Band: no-brainer there.

Then there's the risky choice. I like to take them on occasion - especially if I suspect it might be a once-in-a-lifetime things that'll make for a great story at the very least. When my coworker offered tickets to "a reggae opera written by a Chinese monk and performed by Jamaican monks and singers" I immediately got out my wallet. The $20 ticket seemed a tad steep. But I'm a sucker for the bizarre - and besides, it was a fundraiser for a charity mission in Jamaica.

So here's a picture of "Father Ho Lung and Friends."

He came out to introduce the show in his white robe and sandals with a goofy smile, completely charming and exuding love like I imagine the Dalai Lama must.

Then the music started. It was as dreadfully schmaltzy as you'd expect of a non-musically trained Chinese monk with a heart full of good intentions. Early on there was a love song between the old Testament prophet Isaiah and his wife. At a few points, I actually blushed thinking of a monk writing those lyrics. Little did I know what was to come.

The whole spectacle reminded me of the pageants Mormons are so fond of staging in the summer: big, epic re-tellings of religious stories with lots of enthusiastic cast members in colorful costumes dancing and singing around on cardboard sets that look better from a distance.

Right before halftime (intermission, whatever) I was nudging my friend (whom I'd convinced to join me, albeit with lots of warnings about how it might be a terrible show so don't expect anything grand). We were poinsed to run for the door when the big reggae number came on. Until that point, the whole "reggae opera" was woefully lacking in both "reggae" and "opera." Just lots of synthesized karaoke music - although I must say the singers were VERY talented. They just didn't have much to work with.

But this reggae song sealed the deal. It was called "Sin, sin, sin, sin, sin." Yes, FIVE sins, and countless belly dancers in tight outfits shimmying around the stage very suggestively while the back-up singer/dancers rocked out hip-hop style. So much booty-shaking and belly-gyrating! It was an absolute jolt from the cheeseball singing and dancing they'd been doing for the last hour. I was shocked. So, too, were the thousand or so very straightlaced Catholics in the audience to support Father Ho Lung.

AND THEN HE CAME OUT. Father Ho Lung in his white robe, covered by some shimmering belly-dancer shawls, SHAKING his BOOTY. When the audience realized it was him dancing like the sheik of the harem, it couldn't decide whether to gasp or laugh. My friend and I fell out of our seats in hysterics.

Needless to say, we stayed for the second half of the show.

And while the rocking music never came back, there WAS a gratuitous amount of fake blood spurting all over the stage during two martyrdom scenes, which was shocking and AWESOME. You can never have enough melodrama and fake blood in a religious pageant.

And at the end of it all, Father Ho Lung and his friends came out to pass the hat for their mission in Jamaica. I pitched in $10 more, just because they had the nerve to fly all the way from Kingston with their sparkling robes and fake blood and Janet Jackson wireless microphones to perform "ISAIAH" for a bunch of Southern Catholics and two curious Mormons. Amen!