First of all, to clarify yesterday's post: It was after speaking with several previously prominent citizens of other cities who happen to now live in Wilmington, NC and be life-long, supporting Presbyterians, that I wrote what I wrote about First Presbyterian's treatment of those unwilling or unable to give the APPEARANCE of lily white respectability. These people had all been shocked that they were refered to Good Shepherd Center for shelter because TWO of them had already tried that and found the overnight environment to be FAR to violent for them to handle. You will please remember that I told Ernie Thompson III, head minister, that the Center is the cover for the toughest crime ring in the city and that not only is it the nerve center for illegal narcotics trafficking, but also slavery of undocumented foreigners (enforced by shooting those who demand to be paid wages in the face -- as witnessed by my former Guatemalan roommate, David Escalante, who months ago had to flee to Charlotte, NC -- or so his girl friend told me).
Despite years of abuses at Good Shepherd that were once investigated but never cleared up, all these white congregations and especially their leadership, prefered to support the drug trafficking, slavery, murder, and disappearance-act-to-their-enemies function of one of the most heinous organizations that I've ever heard of.
All this because white Christians decided to stick their heads in the sand to avoid the truth of what IN THE NAME OF JESUS they had allowed to happen in this community. Why??? Ask them. I do not pretend to know.
That said, I think First Prez is lightyears ahead of most Christian congregations here and beyond, so I hate picking on them, but this is MY congregation, and one must clean one's own house before criticizing others. But if any Presbyterian tells me he or she thinks it is bizarre that a people as civilized as the ancient Romans loved blodd sport in the Colloseum so much, I'll sure as hell want to haul off and smack their addled faces -- but I won't. I'm non-violent.
All this said, I think that since I only have T-shirts and shorts, I'll worship elsewhere this weekend. Maybe even at St. Mary's. I have philosophic disagreements with Catholic teaching -- but they sure don't snub the poor and powerless!!! Father Bob and Sister Isaac are two of the finest saints (or people -- I'm not certain which) I've ever met, and SisterWoman can sure do some practical helping of folks in need!!!
Last night a Repubican kook who works (or worked) for Firestone Tire Stores harassed me while I spoke with him and his nice buddy at the free concert at the river. But an hour later, he ran up and trying to kick the absolute crap out of me, missed and hit a nice tourist in a group from Texas with whom I was speaking. Her husband immediately went understandably ballistic, and much confusion reigned as it was clear I knew the guy who kicked his wife and also the "good" buddy had returned and as he put it, "bought (me) a beer, regardless."
The best part was that it took only about 15 seconds for Police to swoop in, grab the guy, and haul him off -- without questioning me or blaming me, as usually happens when I am attacked (see recent post regarding -- as they call themselves -- Team Padezanin, named for drug-dealer George Padezanin, who STILL to my knowledge has not been arrested on the warrent I swore out against him well over a week ago at the county court house).
This morning, I had a long talk with a woman closely related to Frank Sinatra and bearing that surname. She was able to clarify me on a lot of things concerning the alliance of the Sinatra, Kennedy, and Kenan families. Although I have always known that Bank of America was founded by Italians in San Francisco and is actually descended from the Bank of Italy, I have been using a simplified story of how the Kenan family came to dominate it.
We also traded secrets collected by all three families, and generally WOW-ed each other by the increased understanding each of us got. I'm not spilling any real beans now. I'm keeping my hand more closely held to my vest -- for the moment.
Scott
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