"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a
child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things."
--1 Corinthians 13:11
"Well Reverend, that tears it! From now on, you stay out of
this. All of ya. I don't want you with me. I don't need ya for what I got to do."
-- John Wayne, "The Searchers" (1956)
Lately I feel like I should've gotten something more out of church. I
hear about women who have been possessed by the Holy Spirit and men who have seen statues
cry tears of blood. I read about baptisms in the river and moments when your body breaks
down and you're so happy to finally know Christ and have the answers that you sob, and you
faint, and you are born again.
The most elaborate religious memories I have are people with their eyes closed doing one
half of the "Hip Hop Hooray" arm-wave gesture and that one time when I pretended
to speak in tongues to get people to stop putting their hands all over me. Everyone else
was doing it. Speaking in tongues. Although I did go to church in Danville, Virginia.
We always kinda sounded like we're speaking in tongues. So basically I don't think my
Grandpa would've lied to me about something like that, but I'm also pretty sure the Power
of Christ didn't compel him to jabber in the Somber Tones of Malachai when he thanked
duder for pumping his gas.
My memories of church are important to me but they're of the inconsequential things.
Scuffing my feet on the short, red carpet to shock my little cousins. Being afraid to walk
to the end of the back hallway because of how the afternoon light shone through the red
curtains. Standing on my tiptoes to reach the water fountain. I remember the entire
layout. I can see the bathrooms in my mind. Good or bad. I remember where the religious
pamphlets hung just inside the entrance doors, and I remember how the preacher's office
looked like it was bricklayed with books. I only went in the room twice; once to tell
Preacher Stigle that I wanted to be saved, and once to use the phone
so my Mom would know that her Dad had collapsed in the Sunday School floor and was dying
of a stroke.
Sometimes I feel trapped there. Like there was so much of importance going on that I could
never escape and move on with my life until I understand it all. I want to understand the
fat ladies who sat in the back and had little ham legs that rarely worked. I want to know
why preachers came and went. I try to understand complex religious philosophy and fail to
grasp why I still smile so wide thinking of my Aunt, and her deep-throated Bible verses,
and those flapping puppet heads.
And somewhere along the way I remember The Prices. They weren't related to me. At least
not directly. They showed up to service one morning and were suddenly supposed to be
important to the entire operation, putting their hands in the Children's Crusade, subbing
for my Grandmother on some Sunday mornings...essentially everything that would take a
freestanding, freethinking little boy out of the experience just enough for him to go
"Hey wait a minute" at Noah and be lost forever. But they were so odd, and so
peach and round that I remember them fondly, even if it's partially because I'm still
trying to escape and they're blocking the doors.
Between my younger cousins being repositioned into kiddy classes and older cousins moving
into their teens I began to enjoy the solitary confinement of my Grandmother's Sunday
School class. She taught me in ways I could understand and tried to answer my questions,
even if she didn't know the answer. She answered "faith" most times. And even
though it doesn't really make sense why Noah would take two donkeys but leave all the fish
and ducks it turns out she was right. Most times it is faith. I come back to saying it
whenever I talk about my life, but I loved her in the most true and serious ways. Then,
out of the blue, there are now three kids in Granny Thompson's Sunday School class. Little
fat-headed B, Amy Price, and Stacy Price.
Amy was a year younger. She looked like a Cabbage Patch Doll. Smooth, dotted-orange skin
with tightly curled, nappy locks of brushed and brushed red hair. She was my first
girlfriend if a relationship exists out of people you know mockingly demanding it. She
said she awoke from sleep one night to find an angel floating over her bed. I was jealous.
She made me learn the Bible verses more quickly and answer trivia questions more
thoroughly out of spite. I demanded my Grandmother's attention and love though neither was
offered elsewhere.
Stacy was too young to be in our class but too burdened with a brain made out of figgy
pudding to be far from her sister. She was Amy but shorter, but wider, but faster. More
unnerving. She was at least seven but talked like a baby. She touched things with the palm
of her hands instead of her fingers. When she talked to me, she barked like a dog. Looking
back I'm pretty sure she was a glitch in the Matrix, or some kind of perverse demon that
fell out of the back of my mind and got plugged into my otherwise pleasant church
synapses.
David, their Father, seemed to exist as a shadow to their Mother both in physical stature
and personage. He participated in events but was never the fulcrum. I remember him with a
thin face and Amy's hair, only short and burned blue-grey. My only true memory of David is
his lesson about how constructing a model airplane is a good analogy for the patience
necessary to lead a positive Christian life. He taught me many things, not limited to
Temperance (or was it forgiveness?) being stuck to my fingers with model glue and the
knowledge that I will never get around to giving Jesus landing gear.
Debra, the full body blocking David's sunlight, still lives in a house beside my Father's
Mother in her bizarre and continuing coincidental quest to adhere herself to my life. To
an outsider she could've passed for one of my Aunts. Where they are all round and rosy she
remained olive and pulled tight around her bones and bulges. Debra Price exists in my mind
as a facial expression. Furrowed brow. Dark, open eyes and a straight line from cheek to
cheek beneath her nose. On paper it's Oscar the Grouch, or more forgivingly Bert. I
wondered what a woman wearing that expression deeply into this life-defining theological
hobby had ever gained from putting her faith in things that only seemed to make her frown,
but sometimes I was afraid of what would happen if a woman that large starting barking at
me.
They stand as four pillars holding up the ceiling over the end of my childhood innocence.
I want to stand between them with my faith in God and push them over, and bring it all
toppling and cracking down upon me. It seems so empty. Like they're bland, quirky
characters sitting in the auditorium at the end of my comedy watching me breakdance. But I
know that even if I broke them down and wiped away the dust there would be that shiny
little piece of precious crystal to catch my eye. I dig beneath their moo-mooed stones and
find again and again one of those ignorant, wonderful memories of life and nostalgia
formed delicately in a little pocket of dirt at the very bottom. You see, Debra tried to
do a lot of things to get us to keep reaccepting the thing we wouldn't be there without
accepting already, and it was her worst idea that made me the happiest.
Every weekend on one night or the other Debra, Amy, and I would drive across town to a
church I've neither been to formally nor remember. Down in the basement of their
Fellowship Hall we gathered together in a tiny room of folding chairs, watered down fruit
drinks in Dixie cups, and a projector screen to watch the new tapes Debra had ordered from
Willie George Ministries. I do not for one-second remember why I agreed to go or why I
stuck around as long as I did, but when the evenings were over I cast away my doubt and
accepted the one true message.
That this man was going to shoot me in the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ.
What we watched was "The Gospel Bill Show," a cable television
show about God for children set in the Old West. You secular kids will never quite know
the joy of Christian television. I'm not talking about the modern day,
Cucumber-stones-Tomato CGI Nicktoons in disguise that throw
Godly principles in where they'd normally have Melon Stimpy fart a booger on somebody. I'm
talking hardcore, mid-eighties Christian children's programming. Where they were always
two seconds from just taping a Bible to a popsicle stick and telling us to deal with it.
I wasn't even one of the really bad off kids. My parents weren't Christians so I could
watch all the Voltron and He-Man I wanted. But I was a smart kid, you know? Sometimes I
wanted some help figuring out life's greatest mysteries and fucking Pidge the Green Lion
isn't going to help me get to sleep at night. Not that I didn't still spend at least most
of some afternoons pondering things like the purpose of Fisto,
but Fisto having a giant hand and that somehow helping He-Man more efficiently punch
things in tandem didn't make me, say, think my Mom was going to burn up to death in a lake
of fire because she had to work on Sundays.
So if I wanted something Christian to watch I had to TAKE A LOOK! TAKE A
LOOK! at "Superbook," a show about (I kid you not) a couple of
Japanese kids who horse around and knock their Bible off the shelf, causing it to HIT THE
COMPUTER on the way down and BECOME COMPUTERIZED. So in addition to now being able to help
Terry Taylor win wrestling matches, the Cognizant Robot Bible (or "Superbook")
allows the children to travel back in time and witness the events of the Old Testament. I
wish I was lying to you. It was like having Original Gangsta Cap'n OG Readmore show up at
your door and getting you all excited about your magical journey of reading only to point
you in the direction of a guy sacrificing his son to his God and saying "HEY LOOK AT
THAT."
"We're just in time to see the Sodomites turned into salt!
Okay hold on cover your eyes for a minute"
And if that wasn't enough, we also had "The Flying
House." Those same damn kids (I refuse to believe that these were
different kids) are out playing hide and seek one day and it starts raining, so they take
cover in a house of a scientist who makes said house FLY THROUGH TIME. Yes, the entire
house flies through time because there is a windmill on the front of it and I guess God
said it should be so, and now they/we get to enjoy the adventures of the NEW Testament. So
now instead of watching probably extremely figurative stories of hyperbolic hope and order
we get to see a little Japanese boy try to keep a bunch of Middle Easterners from stabbing
Jesus to death.
Hey kids, do you want to be a Christian? GO GO GO HURRY UP OR ELSE JESUS
IS GOING TO DIE. RUN.
There was also a third show where the kids ran really fast on a treadmill and it took them
back to the Book of Mormon. I don't know, I'm just kidding. But they did have a Christian
robot.
BEEP BOOP JESUS HAVE SIGN OFF CHATROOM
What else even was there? "Davey and Goliath" is still a pretty
hilariously Christian Gumby but it was before my time. "McGee and Me"
and "Adventures in Odyssey" (where Jesus fights the Cyclops) came around a
little later. So "The Gospel Bill Show" was my only real avenue for televised
Christian support unless I wanted to watch boring Jim and Tammy Faye PTL broadcasts,
derive very much Hell-sending joy from America's Funniest Palsied Pastor David Ring, or
watch old tapes of First Assembly of God Christmas pageants. Not that my Dad didn't make a
great Pontius Pilate.
To help explain the complexities of brain-teasing lessons like "YOU SHOULD NOT KILL
PEOPLE," God divinely appoints Jim Ross Bill Gunter as sheriff of
the town of Dry Gulch, a town populated by five Christians, one non-Christian, and a
rotating cavalcade of bank robbers and Outlaws who may or may not be imprisoned or even
shot dead in His name. It's a lot like the HBO original series "Deadwood," only
replacing lesbian prostitutes with puppets and replacing Timothy Olyphant's character with
Faux Bridges in a brown leather vest.
You know, I shouldn't make fun of Timothy Olyphant like that. It wasn't
too long ago that he was taken down and killed by Legolas.
Gospel Bill upholds God's Word and is about the nicest, most understanding
guy on the entire planet but he is fully prepared and ready to shit in your cereal.
Upholding the Word of God is not a "sometimes thing." Upholding God's word is an
all the time thing. Upholding the Word of God is a habit.
"Hey, that's good!"
That's Vince Lombardi.
Well, no it isn't. But still.
This is (clearly) Nicodemus, trusty sidekick of Gospel Bill. He is the
world's leading eater of shat in cereal. Gospel Bill craps into mason jars and stores them
in his office desk specifically for those times when Nicodemus shows up and says things
like "It sure is nice outside today." Bill will spring into action, pop the cap,
and dump a vowel movement of something like "WHY YES BUT HAVE YOU THANKED THE LORD
FOR THE WEATHER I BET YOU HAVEN'T" on him. Nic will be akin to aw shucks and realize
the mistake he's made, and they'll spend the next 3-5 minutes praying about it.
Nicodemus was formerly the town drunk but owes his current, straight-laced, Rally Hat
lifestyle to Bill, so he pretty much has to down the Froot Poops and accept his place in
life. He occasionally worked as Bill's deputy to completely fulfill the literal definition
of Uncle Tom. But deep down he was a nice, well-meaning Christian, and we know this
because it is the motivation for almost every single Gospel Bill episode I have ever seen.
I'm sure there are some episodes where they get into Sergio Leone streetfights and some
where they marry Simon
Greedwell with his money, but the tapes I got were all pretty much about Nic chomping
down on the humble fie. And then they pray. You know how every episode of Full House ended
with that soothing music showing up to let you know that the two people directly onscreen
would be hugging momentarily? "Dear Heavenly Father" was Gospel Bill's hugging
music. And I guess "Amen" was his "You've Got It, Dude!" though that
goes without saying.
Nic's day job is foreman at the "Fabulous Flying Frog Ranch" for
his boss, Mr. Farnsworth.
pr0FF3ss0r_F4rnsw0rth:
jesus ahoy!
The only person lower on the food chain than Nicodemus was village
Faulknerian idiot man-child Elmer Barnes. Elmer was
Hold on
Elmer was the rugged, smashmouth type of guy who didn't do very well in
school, so the actor playing Elmer subtly expressed this by evoking the voice he rocked in
his tenth grade performance of Lennie Small and accidentally crushing the rabbit and
ladies (in the name of God) beneath his often skintight local yokel
gear.
When not kicking Missy Hyatt out of the men's locker room, Elmer's role on
the show was to stand in the general vicinity of the camera and say or do things as Goofy
might. Fun Facts we can learn about Elmer from his Shakespearean soliloquies between
gawrshes include a love of fishing, a prized fishing pole that was given to him by his
"Pa" at age sixteen, a melodramatic lack of
confidence, and a serious health problem.
Don't you love the Bulk and Skull hijinks music that kicks in in the middle of that?
The woman who would hate to think that your life is "runed" is
Miss Lana, the proprietor of Dry Gulch's General Store. As the Smurfette of the show (and
considering that I don't think I ever saw another woman in Dry Gulch) it was Lana's job to
be as sincere as possible and try to help out Elmer or Nicodemus when they come to her for
goods or services. One of which may be her "thighs and offering."
Lana's store is where the majority of the show's actions take place, because the only
other regular set is Bill's sheriff station and as we know Christians infrequently go to
jail. She also runs a telegraph out of the store, which comes in handy, because apparently
the only things she has in stock at the General Store are green cans of equal height and
mail slots.
And cereal, I guess.
Anyway, Lana was a pretty good character until they turned her into an evil witch and a ninja.
I'm aware that I'm throwing a lot of technical jargon at the reader, so
let me try to give you an example of a classic Gospel Bill episode to put things into
perspective.
This is T.U. Tutwater, local banking mogul and non-Christian. I once got
in trouble twice in a row over T.U. Tutwater. See, first I did the precursor to Edna
Krabappel laugh and said, "T.U. BUTT-water." That was the first time. And then a
few minutes later I said, "No, wait, P.U. Buttwater." We went home early that
night.
So yeah, T.U. Buttwater, who may or may not be Jewish (I don't remember anyone asking him)
is sick and tired of the meandering Christians he wants to foreclose on, so he starts
showing his Tut. Nicodemus wants a loan and is refused. Much like the Roman Coliseum
Tutwater is not satisfied with one steamed Christian so he also makes a point to cut Gospel Bill's pay.
Since I guess the guy who runs the bank is the guy who pays the sheriff.
then he traps Gospel Bill inside of a safe and flies away in a helicopter and then
Now...CONFLICT
Elmer Barnes is experiencing the concept of air for the first time when Tutwater arrives.
Tutwater has not authorized a break. He don tol that ol nigger to
fix his buggy. But since Elmer has retard strength and is full of heavy, heavy water,
Tutwater takes his frustrations out by kicking the closest inanimate object.
Tutwater's leg is broken and he has to be bedridden for the next six to eight weeks! WHO
WILL COUNT THE MONEY NOW. GOSPEL BILL'S FAMILY REQUIRES SEVERAL GREEN CANS WEEKLY. T.U.
spends the next, oh, let's say sixty-five minutes complaining about how much his leg hurts
and how everyone around him is a buffoon. This teaches us the valuable Christian lesson
that we must complain whenever we feel bad about something.
But God works in mysterious ways. WAIT A MINUTE GOD IS REPELLING FROM THE RAFTERS, HE HAS
A BASEBALL BAT FANS
Tutwater's grief is joyous to Nicodemus, who composes a POME to commemorate the blessed
event. His major mistake is giving it a test run on his friend one mister Gospel Bill
Gunter.
Gospel Bill reaches into his desk, pulls out two mason jars, and just shits right in Nic's
cereal. Just right in there. Sin of pride, Roddy.
Nic's only defense is to try and convince Bill that God did the right thing by breaking
Tutwater's leg. Oh ho ho, have
a juicy man log to go along with that Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Nicodemus. Sin of regret.
So to make things right, Gospel Bill shoots T.U. Tutwater with his pistol and
So to make things right, Gospel Bill gets the entire Bar "Nun" Ranch involved to
do nice things for evil Mr. Potter, even though he doesn't deserve a Merry Christmas.
Nicodemus fixes the buggy that Elmer was slacking off on and Miss Lana makes a healthy
meal. Bill buys Tutwater a book, which unbelievably is not the Holy Bible. Although Bill
may still be in his office hurling his collection of Bibles at his computer so he can go
back in time and shank one right onto Judas' bowl caddy.
Obviously surprised, Tutwater questions Bill's motives. Bill explains himself and the
peeps, in the only way he can.
I swear I thought he was going to end that with
"WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE." And now that T.U. Tutwater knows that God says
he should love his "anime" I guess he'll get started on that Neon Genesis boxed
set. What's going on with Bill in that clip? It sounds like he has a bologna
burp in the middle of saying "enemy." I guess he's gotta fill up after
dropping that much trou.
Stop or my God will shoot.
Don't let me make you think that all of Gospel Bill's messages were so
obvious and simple. He got into some complicated issues at times. I think the reason I
remember the show as vividly as I do was because of an episode where a robber, or a
vandal, or a Jehovah's Witness or somebody comes to Dry Gulch and gets shot. So the guy is
laying out in the floor and he's about to die, so Gospel Bill saves him.
This got me thinking...why do I have to get saved as a little kid and accept Gospel Bill's
cocoa pebbles when I can do whatever I want and just get saved later? It's a philosophical
nightmare. You can say that it won't mean anything and it won't be an actual accepting of
Christ because the trickery is premeditated, but I don't think it would be insincere if
you're seriously about to die and believe in God enough to think that being saved is going
to determine where you go. I'm not going to get saved because it's a clever ruse, I want
to get saved because I want to go to Heaven. I want to be good enough to get there. It
just seems wasteful to save yourself so early. The strawberry doesn't taste as sweet if
you don't have tigers above and below you, you know?
pr0FF3ss0r_F4rnsw0rth:
JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP JUMP
Speaking of tigers, no fond recollection of The Gospel Bill Show would be
complete without paying tribute to the best, funniest, and most ridiculously fundamental
segment of the show...THE VISITS TO THE ZOO.
Yes, the Old West show featured an "inter-missionary" segment in the middle of
episodes where we would go back! to the future and check out some caged animals, and try
to figure out what they have to do with Jesus. The best part of the segments was the host,
Oogene.
Despite the meddling of his Uncle Eric, Oogene introduces us to
local wildlife. It seems innocent enough, doesn't it? I mean, it's not hard to see how
looking at zebras enhances a program. But as a religious Goomba Oogene can't just say
"HEY THE ZEBRA THERE SURE IS NICE," he has to tell us what JESUS would think of
the zebra. Let me give you a great example.
There's one episode that shocked me and made me laugh so hard that it knocked a couple of
wrestling factoids out of the back of my head and stuck itself in there for life. Oogene
shows us the grizzly bear. He explains how ferocious they are and how much damage they can
do, and it's all about as interesting as a Zoobook but, you know, it's a bear, so that's
cool enough.
And then as the segment comes to a close Oogene begins to editorialize, and that's when it
happens: Oogene says that when Jesus comes back the grizzly bears will be nice because
they won't have anything to be mad about. THIS IS THE DIALOGUE OF A SHOW FROM WHICH I AM
MEANT TO LEARN. GRIZZLY BEARS WILL BE NICE TO ME WHEN THE
RAPTURE HAPPENS. When the END OF THE EARTH IS UPON
US the GRIZZLY BEAR WILL BE PLEASED.
I don't know whether to throw my television out of a window and start eating babies or
whether I should purposely lead a hateful life just so I can pal around with the Country
fucking Bears when my uptight relatives aren't around anymore. Are non-Christians going to
be treated to a jamboree? Is that what this has been about the entire time? A way to get
rid of the squares?
OKAY HERE IS A PLAY
ON WORDS TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER KIDS
Ah well.
I make a lot of fun and I HAVE A LOT OF OUTRAGE, but I wouldn't know
about/write about "The Gospel Bill Show" as much as I do/have if I didn't have a
deep-seeded love for the show and the people involved. It's a lot like religion itself,
really.
Think about it. You have something that obviously, purely, and expressly means well. It
wants to reach a hand out to someone who might need it and say "this has helped me,
and I want you to know about it so that it might help you, too." It's friendship.
Togetherness. Acceptance and love. It's at its most base point the closest thing we have
to express this emotion inside of us that we share with the energy of the Big Bang. Love.
And, at the same time, it's almost completely retarded. Sometimes it seems cheap. Hastily
put together. There are plot holes. Why would Nicodemus keep having the same Jesus Crisis
that he's had twenty times before? Why WOULD Noah take the donkeys and leave the ducks?
Why do some people think Allah wants them to die so badly? What is in those green cans at
the General Store?
After you take the good and the bad you have to realize the most important thing: That an
idea can be perfect, but a person can never be. Willie George isn't perfect. He just
wanted to do something nice to teach children. You can't give him too much shit in the
cereal for that. I don't think Jesus spread his message of peace so that Jerry Falwell
could try to make gay people responsible for a national tragedy. He wanted people to love
each other. And I don't know what kind of cereal Jesus eats, but it most certainly should
just be milk and grain. And maybe a banana.
Just remember, we go through a lot of dumb crap but a lot of us are trying really hard.
But if you want to help avoid the same religious problems I've had, keep an open mind,
keep an open heart, and have your loved ones spade or neutered.
Because the worst thing in the world is The Prices, right?
