The ceremony, rooted in perpetual sadness and heartache, served as a perverse covenant between emotionally damaged women, Mary included. At the pulpit, “the Queen of Pain,” (as he referred to Blige) used her songs to sermonize on subjects of personal struggle, toxic relationships, and unrequited love. He painted a hyperbolic picture of thousands of females, aged young and old, hysterically bawling with drinks in hand all while singing along to an endless catalog of depressing anthems-every lyric recited verbatim so no need for hymn books. He went on to describe what he imagined an MJB concert to be like, whether in an actual stadium with the songstress performing live or an at-home party for one with a bottle of alcohol and the volume at max. “Women who listen to Mary make bad decisions with men.” A man once told me this while we listened to my personal 240-song Mary J.
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