Gary Mule Deer Church Bulletins Rev. Mule Deer

So, I was scrolling through my feed the other day—you know, that endless, soul-sucking scroll—and I stumbled upon a church bulletin that read: “The finance committee will meet in the fellowship hall after the potluck. Please bring your checkbooks and a casserole. No pressure.” I laughed out loud. Then I saw the name at the bottom: Rev. Gary Mule Deer. Wait, what? A reverend named Mule Deer? That’s not a typo, folks. That’s a comedian who spent four decades turning church bulletins into holy comedy gold.

You’ve probably seen one of Gary Mule Deer’s bulletins floating around the internet. They’re the ones that make you snort coffee out your nose during a dull sermon. Like: “The weight-watchers group will meet at 7 p.m. Please use the back door—the scale in the narthex is not for public use.” Ironic, right? He’s been writing these since the 1970s, and they’re still pure genius. But here’s the kicker: Gary Mule Deer isn’t a real pastor. He’s a stand-up comedian who pretended to be one for laughs. And we bought it—hook, line, and sinker.

Let me back up. Gary Mule Deer—yes, that’s his legal stage name; don’t ask me why his parents didn’t sue—started as a musician and comedian in the 1970s. He opened for acts like John Denver and Frank Sinatra. Sinatra! But his real claim to fame? Those church bulletins. He’d write them on a whim, slip them into his act, and suddenly people were mailing him their own “real” church bloopers. He collected them into books like “Gary Mule Deer’s Church Bulletins” and “Rev. Mule Deer’s Bulletins.” And honestly? They’re better than any sermon I’ve ever heard.

Take this gem: “The sermon this morning: ‘Jesus Walks on Water.’ The sermon tonight: ‘Searching for Jesus.’” Or my personal favorite: “The pastor will preach his farewell message, after which the choir will sing, ‘Break Forth Into Joy.’” See what he did there? He’s not mocking faith. He’s mocking us—the way we tiptoe around awkward moments with a potluck and a hymn. It’s satire with a soft punch, like a Methodist potluck spoon to the ribs.

But here’s the thing I love most: Gary Mule Deer’s bulletins aren’t mean-spirited. They’re loving. He once said in an interview, “I’ve never offended anybody because I’m laughing with them, not at them.” And ain’t that the truth? The bulletins feel like they came from a real small-town pastor who’s just tired of explaining why the choir sang “I Surrender All” during the offering. You know the type—the one who uses the word “fellowship” like a verb and drinks coffee from a mug that says “World’s Okayest Pastor.”

Gary Mule Deer | Jimmy Bowen and Friends (S10/Ep128) - YouTube

The Art of the Bulletin

So how did a comedian end up as the unofficial king of church announcements? It’s simple, really. Gary Mule Deer understood that church bulletins are the funniest raw material on earth. They’re written by volunteers, proofread by nobody, and distributed to people who are half-asleep. That’s a goldmine. He took real typos from real churches—like, “The ushers will eat latecomers” instead of “seat latecomers”—and turned them into a cottage industry.

You’ve seen his work even if you don’t know his name. Remember that one about “The senior choir will meet at the Hansen’s home. Please bring a covered dish and your own body lotion”? Yep, that’s his. Or the classic: “This being Easter, we will ask Mrs. Johnson to come forward and lay an egg on the altar.” I’m not kidding. That’s word-for-word from a Rev. Mule Deer bulletin. And we all laugh, not because we’re mocking Mrs. Johnson, but because we’ve been Mrs. Johnson. We’ve all shown up to a potluck with the wrong dish and a misplaced sense of duty.

The Man Behind the Mule

Let’s talk about the man himself for a second. Gary Mule Deer is 80 years old now, still performing, still laughing. He’s got a face like a friendly basset hound and a delivery drier than a communion wafer. When he tells a joke, he doesn’t rush. He lets the awkwardness hang in the air like a bad potluck Jell-O mold. And his signature move? He wears a full cowboy outfit on stage. Yes, a cowboy comedian playing a preacher. The cognitive dissonance is part of the charm.

Local celebrity Gary Mule Deer, inducted into Grand Ole Opry

I read an interview where he said his favorite bulletin is: “The ladies of the church will hold a bazaar. If you have any items to donate, please bring them to the rectory. If you have any husbands to donate, please bring them to the pastor.” That’s not just funny—that’s theological. It’s about grace, forgiveness, and the fact that we all need a second chance, especially after we’ve left the church coffee pot on too long.

Now, I’m not a religious person. But I own three of his books. (Don’t judge me.) They sit on my coffee table next to a copy of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” and honestly? They’re more uplifting than most sermons. Because at the end of the day, Gary Mule Deer reminds us that laughter is a form of prayer. When you read, “The choir will sing, ‘Here I Am, Lord.’ The pastor will then explain why the choir hid in the coat room,” you’re not just chuckling. You’re participating in a shared human moment—the one where we admit we’re all just trying to get through the potluck without spilling gravy on the good carpet.

So if you ever see a church bulletin that says, “Don’t let worry kill you—let the church help,” tip your hat to Gary Mule Deer. He’s the comedian who taught us that the Holy Spirit works in mysterious ways, and sometimes those ways involve a potluck, a typo, and a guy in a cowboy hat pretending to be a reverend. And if that’s not a little bit divine, I don’t know what is. (Pass the casserole, please.)