Flipping through the channels last night, I came upon what possibly could be the finest piece of programming I have ever seen in my entire life.
I thought that I had a pretty good thing going with these blogs. I thought I was really making a difference, but I realize now that I am small potatoes.
There is a man, a glorious man, a servant of god. This man's name is Benny Hinn, and he is a church leader in the Charismatic Christian Faith.
I watched, half paying attention at first, as he spoke to a congregation of half a million people. I thought I had him pinned as another crooked televangelist out to exploit people's faith for money, until I realized that he was siphoning power from a higher entity for the greater good of the world.
In my travels I may meet up to as many as two or even three disabled people a day. I realized at a rather young age that people of this persuasion do not like to be treated condescendingly, they don't like to be patronized, and they don't like to be pitied. This is how I found my life's work.
Benny Hinn must have realized the same thing that I have because I watched as god's glitches flocked to his sermons, limping, rolling, crawling, sometimes forcing an embittered relative to carry them.
There was a lot of music, a lot of praying, and a lot of light shows going on, but that was just spectacle. In fact, the whole sermon was just a build up to the last five minutes. When Hinn shot out the order, a sea of mongloids, retards, lame, and other living dead flowed up towards the stage, lining up along the sides and waiting in line.
"This could get interesting," I said, giving myself a couple of gratifying scratches and leaning towards the screen to get a better look at what was going on.
I was busy fingering the bottom of a bag of potato stix so I missed the first one, but when I looked up I saw this Hinn standing over a woman who was convulsing widely on the floor.
"PICK HER BACK UP!!" he screamed wildly, turning bright red and inadvertently covering this dear woman with spit.
It took a moment, but they brought her back up, and BAM he smacked her dead across the face, then turned and ran halfway across the stage and jump kicked a leper.
Just then, I think Tiny Tim walked onto the stage, dancing wildly and holding his crutches up above his head. My good man Benny walked up to the child, glowing with praise, and smiling wildly at the small child. He grabbed the crutch out of the child's hands and held it up for the congregation to see, they screamed wildly as Hinn grabbed the crutch in both hands and swung low, knocking out timmy's legs to the delight of the crowd.
For twenty minutes, Hinn ran back and forth across the stage hitting midgets, tards, cripples, and I think I even saw Fidget take a bootheel to the face.
Benny Hinn, god bless you, as he already has, and as I'm sure he will continue to.
I thought that I had a pretty good thing going with these blogs. I thought I was really making a difference, but I realize now that I am small potatoes.
There is a man, a glorious man, a servant of god. This man's name is Benny Hinn, and he is a church leader in the Charismatic Christian Faith.
I watched, half paying attention at first, as he spoke to a congregation of half a million people. I thought I had him pinned as another crooked televangelist out to exploit people's faith for money, until I realized that he was siphoning power from a higher entity for the greater good of the world.
In my travels I may meet up to as many as two or even three disabled people a day. I realized at a rather young age that people of this persuasion do not like to be treated condescendingly, they don't like to be patronized, and they don't like to be pitied. This is how I found my life's work.
Benny Hinn must have realized the same thing that I have because I watched as god's glitches flocked to his sermons, limping, rolling, crawling, sometimes forcing an embittered relative to carry them.
There was a lot of music, a lot of praying, and a lot of light shows going on, but that was just spectacle. In fact, the whole sermon was just a build up to the last five minutes. When Hinn shot out the order, a sea of mongloids, retards, lame, and other living dead flowed up towards the stage, lining up along the sides and waiting in line.
"This could get interesting," I said, giving myself a couple of gratifying scratches and leaning towards the screen to get a better look at what was going on.
I was busy fingering the bottom of a bag of potato stix so I missed the first one, but when I looked up I saw this Hinn standing over a woman who was convulsing widely on the floor.
"PICK HER BACK UP!!" he screamed wildly, turning bright red and inadvertently covering this dear woman with spit.
It took a moment, but they brought her back up, and BAM he smacked her dead across the face, then turned and ran halfway across the stage and jump kicked a leper.
Just then, I think Tiny Tim walked onto the stage, dancing wildly and holding his crutches up above his head. My good man Benny walked up to the child, glowing with praise, and smiling wildly at the small child. He grabbed the crutch out of the child's hands and held it up for the congregation to see, they screamed wildly as Hinn grabbed the crutch in both hands and swung low, knocking out timmy's legs to the delight of the crowd.
For twenty minutes, Hinn ran back and forth across the stage hitting midgets, tards, cripples, and I think I even saw Fidget take a bootheel to the face.
Benny Hinn, god bless you, as he already has, and as I'm sure he will continue to.
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