Confessions of a childish blasphemer
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Back in the 70s I was a fan of televised Christianity. Jim Bakker was still on the 700 Club when I could stomach it. Which prompts an aside into my childish blasphemous pleasures:
Reminiscent of a PBS begathon, they'd switch to the telephone operators who were talking to the fools who were calling in pledges. My roommate and I were calling them steadily saying I can't remember what heartless, nasty Christianophobic stuff. We quit when we got to see one operator blanch at whatever I said to her. To be an eighteen year old nitwit again …
In the 80s Christians were acquiring lots of neglected. licenses for low wattage TV stations around the country. One began broadcasting here in Jesse Helms' home state. They were quite wonderful in their tacky way. Simpleminded backwoods Christianity in K-Mart polyester suits adorned with ties you wouldn't use to hang yourself. I was addicted.
Much of the air time was filled up with telephone conversations with the faithful. These dear, naïve born-again folk didn't have the time delay mechanism in place common to almost all live TV and radio (think you've heard some evil words, just imagine what they've blanked out without ever letting you know). I'm sure I had a fair number of gin and tonics before I dialed. Too drunk to remember the exact words that were broadcast live to their minute viewing audience. It wasn't wit, likely I intoned something like "I am the Lord thy God and you should all take off your clothes and sodomize one another." My glee at their stunned dismay warms me even as I type this.
Inevitably they recovered enough to pray for me and later install a seven second delay. God did not seek to reward their piety and it now a 24 hour shopping channel.
Childish? You bet, some of the highlights of a life of a cheerful blasphemer.
Continued in Televangelist supreme, Doctor Gene Scott.