1 Human Nutjob Goes to Heaven and Lives to Tell About It; 1 Human Nutjob Goes to Hell and Lives to Tell About It; I Kid You Not!
In my constant search for "spirituality"--usually my "religious" spirit is the ward of my personal spiritual advisor and masturbational fantasy, Pastor Melissa Scott, though I stray occasionally--I'm game to give a listen to and peep at those on television who claim they have powers bordering on the absolutely miraculous. Pastor Melissa Scott isn't really into miracles, though I know a personal physical problem she could definitely "heal"--plus, I may as well add here for your delectation, Pastor Melissa Scott has been given a new time slot on my local teevee--a later one, a cheaper time slot--on Larry Pax's teevee channel here in Manhattan--and, say hey, Larry's moved way away from Jesus lately, his original intention for his channel (New York City's own television station that was given to Brother Pax for 95 million bucks by our former privatizing fool of a mayor, Rudi "Mussolini" Guiliani), and is much more secular now, especially with his running that new corny infomercial for Extendo, or some such bullshit name as that, where these porny looking babes and this porny looking fop of a man are hawking this tablet that will supposedly make a man's dick grow longer! Now what sombitchin' man doesn't want a longer penis? Duh! Yet, any man with half a brain should know these little sugar pills (placebos they're called) aren't gonna really give him a longer dick. Oh they might put the suggestion in your dumbass brain that your little-finger-size pecker is actually growing--like Pinocchio's nose--though his nose got bigger 'cause he was lyin'--and maybe that's what men with short penises should do, lie about them--then maybe it'll actually grow longer--in your wildest imagination yeah sure. Certainly the woman your poling won't think it's longer; she knows better, but, hell, go on, baby, lie to the poor sucker, tell him, "Why, baby, oooh, it's gettin' so long, I don't know, it may be too much for me to take!" "By God, it's gettin' longer! Keep talkin' like that--look, it's getting longer!!!"
Actually though, that wasn't what I wanted to reveal here today--maybe I am a "revelationary" writer! What I wanted to reveal here today was the fact that there's a new nutjob Christian fundie clown on the idiot box who amuses me. He's come out of nowhere within the last few months, and what a clown job he is; the way he talks is enough to cause you to make a citizen's arrest on him and have him committed to a Holier-than-Thou loony bin. Plus, this sombitch has somehow managed to get the use of the CBS-TV studios in L.A. for his filmings (his heaven-on-earth) and just recently, the local CBS channel here is carrying this nutjob's fool show now at midnight on Saturday nights.
This new nutjob is named Morris. And it's a good name for him, too. He looks like every Morris I've ever known, including Morris the Cat. What's clownish and excruciating about this nutjob Christian fundie is his voice. His voice sounds as though he's undergone a sex-change operation somewhere down the line--you know, they changed him from a woman into a man.
Morris's cockamamy show is called "The Help Line," and he trots out the same old assortment of Holy Rolling money-grubbers who used to appear on Jim and Tammy's Praise the Lard! shows, especially a fellow Texan named Mike Murdoch--sometimes these clowns refer to Mike as Doctor Mike Murdoch, but trust me, the only doctorate this flim-flammer ever had was the one he created for himself using PhotoShop and a good printer. Mike's whole farcical hustle is trying to get the scared-of-dying-Christian-neurotics to plant what Doctor Mike calls "seeds of faith" (an old Oral Roberts scheme really). "Seeds of faith" to Doctor Mike really means "your checks, money orders, cashier's checks, or especially cash-on-the-old-barrelhead" sent to him--and no nickels and dimes, please--those are worthless seeds to Doctor Mike. Nope, this clown starts his seeds at 1000 bucks--whether you have a 1000 bucks or not--you still send old Doctor Mike a pledge of a thousand bucks and soon the Gawd Doctor Mike talks to all the time will reward you 100-fold--which means because you've pledged a 1000 tax-free smackers to old Mike, his Gawd's gonna dump 100,000 smackers in your lap just out of nowhere and then you'll be able to send Doctor Mike not only that pledged 1000 bucks but, hell, how 'bout half of that 100-fold Gawd threw down at you as your next planting--in the meantime, Mike's Lear jet is flyin' just fine and hell even though he's got a couple Rolls-Royces, why not another one?--like Step 'N Fetchit, one day Mike'll have enough Rollses he can park 'em one behind the other, then drive the first one up a few feet, go back to the second one and drive it up behind the first one, on and on until he finally gets to his destination. Praise the Lawdy Lawd and pass Doctor Mike some of them biscuits and some of that possum fat gravy to laddle over them!
But Doctor Mike Murdoch's nothing really to send up flares or fireworks about. He's been around for ages, like I said especially back to those fabulous Jim and Tammy days when old Mike was peddlin' his same Holy Snake Oil--so he's old hat--it's easy to switch channels on old Mike--you come back an hour later and he's spieling out the same old flim-flam bullshit.
Nope. What attracted me to this Morris Cerillo dude yesterday were his "special" guests--two nutjob geegawkers--listen to this: the first one, a white man in his fifties, said, very seriously to the nutjob-serious Morris, "I died, Morris, praise the Lawdy Lawd, and Morris, when I woke up after I died, I was in Heaven--praise the Lawdy God-damn Lawd!" And Morris goes, "You died? What was it caused your death?" "A horrible auto accident, Morris." "And let me get this straight, you died and when you woke up from this death, you were in Heaven?" "Yes, Morris, praise the Lawd God-damn Lawdy Lard Gawd!" "And how did you know it was Heaven?" "Good question, Morris...." I am a big skeptic and have been since I was old enough to first read the Christian Holy Book (I was five or so) and find what it called "facts" very hard to believe, even at that young an age. I did believe in Santa Claus--and the Tooth Fairy, too--I know, I got a quarter under my pillow from the Tooth Fairy one time--plus I knew my dad dressed up like Santa Claus every year and I knew my dad was real, so so was Santa Claus--dig it? But skeptic or not, hell, I had never seen a dude claiming he had actually died, gone to Heaven, seen Heaven, and then suddenly returned to earth and come back to life--healthy as a stone-pony now! Now, folks, that's a fucking miracle if you believe in this Christian crap; what this common ordinary garden-variety Amurican goofus did is something Jesus X. Christ himself was unable to accomplish--yes, J. X. C. rose from the dead and transubstantiated himself and was beamed by Heaven's own Scottie on up to Heaven--but Jesus X. Christ didn't came right back to earth. Hell no. In fact, Christians are sitting around fantasizing about this Jewish reformer of 2000 years ago one day returning to earth and gathering all of them up and taking them to his new kingdom, the New Jerusalem--which Mitt Romney and Oren Hatch and other Mormons believe is going to be Salt Lake City, Utah. The British-Israelites believe the New Jerusalem is gonna be London! Whoooo boy, I'm exhausted from trying to grasp so much comic bullshit! I love it, of course; there are ironies galore in religions; contradictions and coincidences become matter of fact--like I heard a jackleg preacher one time say that yes Joshua did stop the sun from circling the earth and then the sly bastard stopped the moon from circling the earth. How 'bout that, folks; in Gawd's world, the sun circles the earth. Does that mean we are living a totally fantastic life? "Beam me up, Scottie, hell, I wanna take a gander at heaven."
I've heard another goofball Christian fundie say Heaven is an actual planet--and that Heaven has cities and counties and such, too. "It's a real place," he chirped.
But, Holy of Holes, now, Morris the Christian Cat has dug up a man who has actually been to Heaven and, yes, and double-hell-yes, he says for sure, surrounded by many 'Praise the Lards' and heavy-whining hosannas, it is a real place. "I knew it was Heaven, Morris, because the first thing I saw was this enormous gate." "Praise the Lawdy Lawd, the Pearly Gate!" "Yes, Morris, I was at the Pearly Gate. I knew it the minute I saw it--this enormous gate with a tiny door in it that you had to pass through to get into main Heaven." "Absolutely, we go through the Pearly Gate one at a time, praise the Lawd Lawsy Lawd."
The way to get to Heaven according to Led Zeppelin
I had intended on rambling on for another several moments of blathering idiocy in terms of this same Christian-imbecile-nutjob "preacher"--Morris the Christian Cat--after trotting out this supressed-desires fool who claimed he went to Heaven and then returned to the mortal coil to spread the word that Heaven was an actual place and, yes, by Gawd, the streets were paved with gold, a Holy word that contains the word "god" in it--and a lot of these wildeyed fundie idiots no matter their tinhorn religions are in this business for the gold and that god that is in that gold. All of them have always claimed Heaven had streets paved of gold and jewels and in Heaven's cities are just literally billions of high-end luxury mansions, row after row of them. One thing curious this Heaven visitor said, the minute he walked through that little door in the Pearly Gate--suddenly I recall Tex Williams's famous "Smoke, Smoke, Smoke": "Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette/Smoke, smoke, smoke until/You smoke yourself to death/Tell Saint Peter at the Golden Gate/That you hate to make him wait/But you just gotta have another cigarette."--OK, so this guy walks through the little door and right on into Heaven on his obvious free pass, the first person he sees in Heaven isn't Saint Peter or Jesus X. Christ, but his great-grandmother!--and then I thought of a good idea for a Christian fundie scam: Free passes to visit Heaven or Free passes to get out of Hell--because, folks, if you believe in a Heaven, then, hell, you have to believe in a Hell, too, and old Morris the Christian Cat had the counter to the Heaven guy--yep, Morris then trotted out a geek-looking little bamboozler of the worst sort--a semi-good used car salesman's approach to truth--who claimed--and this one floored me--he had died and been mistakenly sent to HELL! Gawd made a mistake!
I had a lot of trouble dealing with the idiot who claimed he went to Heaven and then returned to earth alive again. I got to thinking, whaaaa, wait a damn minute, if Jesus X. Christ died on that Roman cross (arrested for treason against Caesar's rule as a Holy person over a Holy Empire and not for any Jewish reformism he was touting) and then rose from the dead in order to get to Heaven spotless, dig?, then why the hell didn't he just simply form up his army of angels right then and there, get on his big white horse, and bop right back down to earth again and set up his kingdom in the New Jerusalem--why didn't Jesus just visit Heaven, meet his old man, and then come on back?--I mean, come on, look at all the souls that would have kept from burning in hell for the next two thousand years and look at all the Holier-than-Thou miracles he could have performed.... You see why I decided to quit writing about this crap? It's total tomfoolery. It's total unequivocal bullshit--fantasy, creative thinking--all written by Jewish writers! And yet millions upon millions of human beings (human-animal hybrids) believe in this Judea-Christian bullshit. And that amazes me. And I'm further amazed at how billions upon billions of people all around the world believe in some kind of supernatural bullshit. As one anti-War-in-Iraq sign put it: "What if there were no religions; would we be having these wars?"--and the answer to that naive question is, yes, because of GOLD, my friends; black gold in the case of the Middle East--the true Allah and the true Jehovah of the Middle-East is the GOLD to be stolen by the biggest-dog gods's true believers--then they take their "GOD" out of that GOLD, and that's who they worship; a banker-investor Jesus hanging on a cross of gold--why Christians wear gold crosses around their necks to show their piety!
I yearn for sensible reasoning. I don't find it much.
for De Lawd [The Daily Growler]