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John Valby (b. some #&@%*! time or other, in some unholy #&@5*! place...) is an arena rock star, televangelist, amateur proctologist/gynocologist, and will likely serve as the next pope. He is also a staunch and valiant proponent of Political Correctness, often shedding his own blood in glorious battles against those who try to "push the envelope" of "free speech", and thereby insuring a "tastefully homogenized" society for all future children.
Operating under the nom de plume "Dr. Sanitary", he ceaselessly travels around the world, tirelessly spreading a heartfelt message of gentle tolerance for the status quo, as well as promoting tighter and tighter restrictions on any and all silliness. His frequent, nay, constant proselytizing on behalf of World Normalcy has garnered him a well deserved reputation as a respectable clergyman, and an all around swell fella.
Born to parents which he had deemed far to tolerant of...things...he ran away as soon as he was able to walk, and immediately joined up with the world renowned Father Feelnfondle's Traveling Revivalistravaganza, serving first as a no wage shit-shoveler, then later, as a no wage shovel shitter, eventually proving himself loyal enough to the Principals of Righteousness as to be promoted to the post of no wage Bible Thumper, beating off the dust from the road weary tomes. (This latter position didn't last long though, as chance, fate, and destiny all had other seemingly incompatible plans for him.)
One day, while dutifully beating off the dust, there happened along a certain traveling salesman, dressed in the finest seersucker that suit money could buy, smoking a gawdawfully smelly pipe, and telling the absolutely foulest jokes imaginable. As the salesman chatted up the local townie work crew, Little Johnny heard a good sampling of the filth pouring from the mans obviously heathen lips, and flipped completely out. Righteous Indignation coursed through his body as he grabbed a nearby splitting maul and took a step toward the man. Barely able to hold the weapon, the boy leveled a cold, steely gaze at the stranger, and demanded that he immediately apologize to the Good Lord above for his blatantly blasphemous offenses. The salesman, a rather jovial, perpetually smiling fellow, asked the boy what he meant, to which the boy replied, "If I had to tell you, you wouldn't understand.", and brought the hammer down on the infidels' magnificently shoed foot.
The man, not yet realizing the direness of his situation, let out a long string of expletives the likes of which could not EVEN be repeated in a good family forum such as this. Upon hearing the string of epithets pouring out from between the mans clenched teeth, adrenaline surged through the child's body, fueling and compounding his strength as the maul swung again...and again...and...again.
When the dust (and blood) had finally settled, a MAN now stood where the tiny child had previously been. And as Father Feelnfondle quickly paid off the townie witnesses, and arranged for the battered salesman's near lifeless body to be taken away, a sense of purpose solidified in John's heart. He now, finally, knew who he was, and, what he was meant to do. His dispatching of the evil salesman impressed the good Father Feelnfondle, and Johnny found himself now paid wages for his services.
A star is borned
His astoundingly sudden transformation from boy to man was widely regarded as a miracle by the members of the Revival, and this helped to garner him no small measure of popularity amongst them. The Father in particular took a shine to him, and took him under his wing, teaching him all about the ways of mankind, and how it was eminently guilty of all of the worst kinds of sins, such as "cussin'", "drinkin'", and "whorin'". (Fortunately for Feelnfondle, Johnny never asked him how he had come to know so much detail about such things.)
Upon learning of humanities crimes against God, Johnny immediately began appearing onstage during shows, and with the kind of passion only youthful exuberance can produce, he would preach "The Word" to audience after audience, and whenever he came across any "Liberal minded Heathen jerks", he would grab his trusty maul and "Straighten 'em out but good".
It was after one such incident that he was approached by a Mr. Frederick Phelps, who offered to pay for the furthering of young Valby's education, in exchange for joining his own crusade as an "enforcer". John agreed, and, after saying goodbye to his "family" and Father Feelnfondle, left them all behind.
He soon found himself up to his eyeballs in a disturbingly bizzaroesque scene that utterly defied any sot of description whatsoever, the sheer surreality of it all simply proving to be to just too much for his simple hick sensibilities, (they "Hurt my head just thinkin' about it") and upon receiving a particularly strange request to "Preside over" certain "Rituals", he left, striking out on his own for the first time in his adult life.
The next day, after washing a young mans mouth out with soap for saying "goshdarn", (and not apologizing for it...such phrases were always too close for his comfort) he commandeered what would soon become the trademark Valby instrument...a twelve string electric bass guitar, (which would become known to his legions of young neocon fans as, simply, Morticia). His innate ability to instantly play this instrument immediately catapulted him to worldwide fame and stardom, and, adopting the stage name "Dr. Sanitary", he began his legendarily meteoric rise to household namedom.
At shows, between songs, Dr. Sanitary likes to engage in a call-and-response game whereby he yells, "Love you!" to the audience in the most sincere manner possible. The audience then immediately hollers back "Love YOU!", and this interchange continues until his next hymn, psalm, or spiritual.
Reconstructing Gregorian chants on the twelve-string bass, and revamping the lyrics with sincere rhapsodizations promoting family values...but in Hawaiian. Always in Hawaiian.
A long string of utterly inoffensive and supremely commercial songs were subsequently released on his private "Dr. Clean" label, only a smattering of which can be mentioned in this limited space:
"Repent, repent, repent" (#1 - four wks)
"No, no, no...never, never, never" (#21 - eight wks)
The list goes on and on, (I believe I may be wrong about the spelling on some of these, and I will address that soon, as I will probably swap out some of his other songs in this space, as well as posting any new hits.)