This may sound a bit harsh, but I never claimed to be John Donne -- any man’s death does not necessarily diminish me.
Among the nation’s earliest Televangelists, Oral made a name for himself attracting an enormous following. Although a few years too late to be the inspiration for the ne’er-do-well false prophet evangelical minister in Sinclair Lewis’ Elmer Gantry, he well could have been.
Oral’s claim to fame is epic:
- In the ‘30’s he was a traveling tent healer, who shouted abuse at the ill and crippled when they failed to respond to his healing touch.
- In 1977 Roberts claimed to have had a vision from a 900-foot-tall Jesus who told him to build the City of Faith Medical and Reseacrh Center (a faith and medicine hybrid concept) and that the hospital would be a success. Built in 1980; it closed its doors in 1989. Giant Jesus lied.
- In January 1987, during a fundraising drive, Roberts announced to a television audience that unless he raised $8 million by that March, God would "call him home"… i.e. “Gimme money or you’re going to kill me.” He sucked $9.1 million out of his fearful sheep.
- Oral announced that through the Roberts ministry god had raised the dead. His son Richard claimed to have witnessed his father bringing a dead child back to life. The kid was never named.
- He was forced to resign from the presidency of Oral Roberts University due to some funky business about the use of university funds for personal and political purposes.
[ Read all about his illustrious career here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oral_Roberts ]
He was a pioneer of sorts, paving the way for the legions of despicable, bombastic, fanatical religious shaman -- con men, hypocrites and buffoons all. Men who have made it their life’s work to heap more ignorance upon the ignorant, fleece the gullible, make promises they could never keep, sell the snake oil of belief and earn millions doing it.
Perhaps hundreds of thousands of pious lemmings will mourn Roberts' passing. But not I. That’s not to say I wouldn’t want to honor him. Given the opportunity I would gladly pour a bottle of 18 year old Glenfiddich scotch over his grave ... as long as he doesn’t mind if it passes through my bladder first.
21 comments:
Actually, I wouldn't even want the bladder filtered scotch to be wasted. But we could celebrate by dancing on his grave after he is buried.
Dancing sounds good. I guess you could say we'd be conducting a "Ho Down" ... if you get my drift ;)
Great blog, Hump. Couldn't have said it better myself. I'm glad the old bastard's dead. Too bad he lived long enough to brainwash so many. I have to wonder why people take fuckers like him seriously. My offering for his wake is a couple of shooters of Cuervo Gold - bladder filtered, of course.
TY Tracey. That would be one soggy rave by the time we are finished.
We'd have to be careful he doesn't rise to the surface...like a "floater"... lest his followers think he was raised from the dead.
Let me try this again:
Will you be wearing one of these whilst dancing? http://www.cafepress.com/AtheistCamel.411533940
(LOL. My word verification for this post is ''payste''. Goes very well with the above posted item!)
And it still didn't work! Here. Go there yourself! It won't let me hyperlink it! Crap!
http://www.cafepress.com/AtheistCamel.411533940
Joyce, no. I was going to wear my Eternal Earthbound Pets pair. Probably more appropriate for the occasion considering it has more to do with going to heaven and all. And paystes.
LOL
Joyce,
Uh... they don't make those things big enough to handle a camels junk.
LOLOL!
Hump said: "Given the opportunity I would gladly pour a bottle of 18 year old Glenfiddich scotch over his grave ... as long as he doesn’t mind if it passes through my bladder first."
LOLOL! That's priceless. LOL!
I had forgotten all about Oral Roberts...I was thinking Pat Robertson.
Make that two bottles of scotch... I'll join you.
Doc,
at $67 a bottle for Glenfiddich, how about we just split one bottle. I'm retired you know. ;)
Well, I would have prefered it to have been Pat Robertson, but bloggers can't be choosers. I'll join you guys in that toast, but I'm bringing vodka.
You said: Joyce,
Uh... they don't make those things big enough to handle a camels junk.
All these years you've been trying to tell me that you are a man of reason and truth.
Fraud! You've been exposed! You're the delusional one, not me! ;)
Zar,
"bloggers can't be choosers' LOL..good one. Don't worry, we will live long eough to annoint Pat's grave as well.
Joyce,
Hmmm.. well, unlike religious belief which has no physical evidence, Mrs. Hump can testify to the volume of my Camel junk!
Can you say; "Sexting"? :)
"All these years you've been trying to tell me that you are a man of reason and truth."
He is a camel, not a man, that is why it doesn't fit.
No honor among theives. Phelps and his inbreeds are going to picket the funeral.
http://www.godhatesfags.com/schedule.html
Wow! Now I never would have anticipated that. But I guess craziness recognizes no compatriot.
"That’s not to say I wouldn’t want to honor him. Given the opportunity I would gladly pour a bottle of 18 year old Glenfiddich scotch over his grave ... as long as he doesn’t mind if it passes through my bladder first."
Best...send-off...ever. Witty, Irish, and alludes to getting drunk. What more could you ask for in sending a right bastard on his way?
Seriously this guy was a zit on the ass cheek of society. He drove his gay son to suicide through his vehement anti-homosexual attitude. In the words of his gay grandson, "While the Evangelical community may not pull the trigger when one of their gay members commits suicide, they often provide the ammunition"
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