Good Day, junior gents and young ladies. My name is Brown, Parson Brown.
Yes, the Parson Brown. The very one whose name you have usurped for your Winter Wonderland follies. Word has reached my rectory that my name is being merrily attributed to hastily built snowmen and using them for even more hastily officiated weddings.
Well, listen here, you nogoodniks: Identity theft is a crime and my good reputation is being tainted as parishioners from Scranton to Monticello are hearing that I am randomly marrying children in the middle of snowy meadows. This snowman wedding racket is a disgrace to the good name of clergymen everywhere.
I didn’t spend seven years studying for my ordination at the seminary, serve out another four as a missionary in the Chilean jungles, and then get assigned to this frozen wasteland of rural Pennsylvania so that some snowball with a corncob pipe could waltz in and start handing out marriage certificates to child-brides! It’s downright insulting. Where does it end? Should I be worried about a snowman showing up at my church to give the Advent sermon? I don’t see any snowmen offering tax advice or selling farm acreage.
You cannot go around pretending that snowmen are suitable marriage officiants, it’s not allowed, not in the American legal system and certainly not in the Good Book. I have been the traveling Parson for this parish for nigh on two decades, and I have had nary a complaint from townsfolk about the frequency of my visits in relation to their wedding plans. Yet, you roll up a couple of snowballs, jam a carrot into the head, slap on some coal buttons, and, voilà, a certified minister… according to the misguided whimsy of the holiday season. If that were the case, I’d be out of a job faster than you could recite all five verses of “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks.” Now there’s a quality Christmas Carol.
Let's not even get started on the legal ramifications here. This is the 1930s; children can’t just marry because a snowman asks, “Are you married?” You have to be a mature sixteen years of age for the responsibilities of marriage.
And remember this as you conspire by the fire: There are strict laws against unlicensed wedding officiating, which is a Class A misdemeanor and carries a punishment of up to one year in jail.
My ordination isn't just a fun hobby—it came with a legal certification and a moral duty. My job isn’t as simple as just having two people recite vows. Every town I visit, I’m inundated with requests from calf-love couples looking for a quick “no questions asked” wedding. Well, I have a sit down with every supposed Abraham and Sarah to ask them questions, and offer them consult, making sure they are ready for the commitment of marriage. What is the reason you want to get married? How many children do you plan on having? Are you both committed to building a lifelong partnership grounded in the church?
Let’s see your snowman do that!
So, to the snowman impersonators out there, consider this a warning: I am not afraid to bring the full weight of God, the church, and the law down on your frosty unordained heads. Identity theft is no laughing matter, and unauthorized weddings in the winter months will no longer be tolerated.
I’m Parson Brown and I’m here to knock you down.