Jonathan Kieran

“By Request” does not begin to tell the amazing story.

It’s easy for many of us to forget just how HUGE the SNURDS were in their heyday.

An endless streak of Billboard No. 1 singles—they routinely knocked Beatles classics from the top perches of the charts.

More Grammys than could possibly fit into their single-wide rumpus nook in Peoria.

Elegant Greyhound bus rides from one sold-out metropolitan gig to the next (first class seats behind the driver and bacchanalian feasts consisting of Velveeta cheese platters, potted-meat hors d’oeuvres on melba toast, and snifters overflowing with indulgent cherry Kool-Aid.)

And then came the groupies.

It happens to the finest and most sought-after musical superstars, caught amid the whirlwind of earth-shattering success. Even the faith of a couple like the Snurds, who graced earth with such unforgettable anthems as Jesus Touched Me Where I Need It Most, Her Hair Hid a Multitude of Sins, and My Christian Puppets Tried To Kill Me (‘Til God Cast the Demons Out of Those Creepy Bastards), can fall to the slings and arrows of temptation.

Reginald Snurd, being the obvious looker of the legendary act, succumbed to the wanton desires and siren-songs of countless fans desperate to prove their devotion in any way imaginable, often tearing his polyester suits to ribbons during personal appearances and leaving Reginald’s manly attributes exposed for their lustful satisfaction.

”It was only a matter of time,” recalled his wife, Debbie Snurd, who had so joyfully accompanied Reginald’s come-hither ditties with her tambourine at the outset of global fame. “These faithful women followed us across the world because they saw in Reggie what I had first seen in him—an alpha male example of God’s incomparable virility—and they wanted a piece of that. What was I to do? Most of the groupies had much bigger Pentecostal hair than I did, having been cursed from childhood by alopecia and the need to hide my Biblical shame with an array of embarrassing wigs. I’m not surprised by the desires of our fans and, looking back, I can see how Reginald stumbled.”

After a trial separation that generated headlines from the New York Times to the Hackensack Honeycomb, Reginald made an ill-advised shift from the timeless Gospel that had made him the Snurd brand synonymous with superstardom and embraced a rock and roll career. His first album, Fevered By Your Funbags, was derided by critics and fans alike.

Even a desperate attempt to attract a wider audience by posing nude for Playgirl found Reginald’s followers longing for more Gospel music and dismayed to discover the secret of Snurd’s undescended testicles.

Record sales dried up. Stadiums remained empty. The glitz and glamor faded.

But their journey has a happy ending. Reginald reunited with Debbie after transitioning into a vibrant woman named “Regina”. The two abandoned the twin pressures of fame and ludicrous Christian music to become proud lesbians of San Francisco, opening their own macrame shoppe in the mid-1970s. There, the reunited lovebirds discovered the joys of hemp, handicraft and the devotion of their nine cats—free of the Bible groupies who nearly destroyed them.

”I wouldn’t change a thing,” was one of Regina’s final recollections before the two slipped into peaceful obscurity. “Christian music can suck the soul right out of your body through most any orifice, and I learned a lesson. These days, Debbie walks the city streets bald and proud and I have the thrill of taking my pick each day from her vast wiggery. God provides, friends, even after the fame is gone.”

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[ THE WEDNESDAY BOX, a dark fable for all ages by Jonathan Kieran is slated for international release January 20, 2026]

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