GIVES ME THE CREEPS

Gives me the creeps just to think about it, this time of year.

‘Bout this time of year it was. Rounded up in buses, folks from the white-face churches all around town ‘n down to some kinda arena. Billy Grahm was preachin’ THE WORD.

Just a boy, myself then. No way to know what it all meant. Put the curse right on me. Took the best of fifty years to get free.

It’s just plain sick to think of all the rot the preachers spout,
Eat the flesh.
Drink the blood.
Sin and guilt.
Blessed virgins.
Put it in the kids’ heads. Screw them up for life.

Watched a tent show rerun last night by accident. A corn pone stand-in for Billy. Billy gone to Beaula Land.

There they were, bunch of Methodists, eatin’ the flesh and drinkin’ the blood, Oh Holy Night. Oh holy shit! Gives me the creeps just to think about it.

BROTHERhood and FELLOWship, Good ‘Ol Boys ‘n all the women with their knees together. Took me back,
that awful night when the curse was put right on me.

Gave me the creeps. Gave me the willies.

Say, did Billy Grahm ever get to be [P]resident?

Solstice, 2008

Sent from my iPod
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