It all started with Bill Berry of course (not the former drummer from R.E.M. but the other one who went to Seminary with me). He once took a Bible, cut out the pages in the middle and mailed me a magnet. I suppose he wanted to cover up the fact that it was a magnet that he was mailing me and not some subversive tape, by-products of war, or letters on stationary from God, all of which he had done before!
The Bible industry is better off because of Bill. They are his methods of concealment of choice.
Whenever we are together some adventure occurs. We’ve run into a bus (literally!) with the font end of my car suddenly resembling a tin can. We both agreed that this was an excellent reason to skip Seminary, order pizza and drink beer.
We’ve been thrown out of a Trappist Monastery after entering the forbidden zone because … well, it was forbidden.
We jumped off a British tour bus in Poland with no idea how we would get back to the train station to spend a bitter day in Auschwitz, the concentration camp.
We were once chased by a collection of Turkish whores in Prague late one night. They accosted me first, rubbing my body and asking me things I didn’t understand. Bill stood there laughing until I yelled that he had all of the money and they left me taking off after him. He took off in a sprint and I lay on the cobblestone street laughing in the dark.
In Havana Cuba we spent one night in a Cabrera talking to 1930s burlesque showgirls and it took all eight of our legs and arms to make it back to my hotel room that night where management immediately thought that we were gay and reported us to the Communist government. We were followed around by guys in coats afterwards.
Also in Havana we took public transportation to Figora, Ernest Hemingway’s house because he’s one of my favorite writers. I wore a “Georgia” tee-shirt and this huge man threw his arm around me and told me that his name was George and he was going to be my friend. I sat in his lap during the crowded ride on the “camelback”. Mothers breast fed their children, men held chickens, and this was one happy collection of people. It only costs us 35 cents a piece!
Once we got to Hemingway’s house, it was closed so we had to hitchhike back. A 1940’s pickup truck with the bed absolutely packed with people stopped to pick us up. The cab was also full but the driver made them get in the back to accommodate us and we were driven back to Havana. I had a back pack full of Snickers bars and when I threw them to everyone they cheered and exclaimed with glee.
In Berlin Germany I attacked Bill in a McDonald’s late one night for ordering a fish sandwich because he is a devote vegetarian but he was drunk and had the munchies. I was not going to allow him to blame me for betraying his vegetarianism so as I exited the rest room and saw what he’d done I sprinted across the restaurant and tackled him. “Dumm Esel!” I heard someone say.
I could go on. We’ve done more (Let’s not bring up Myrtle Beach, Nashville or the Southern Baptist Convention).
Anyway I opened the Bible, saw the cut out pages and I retrieved the magnet which was a portrayal of Jesus presenting a pizza to the Apostles.
And I was converted that day. If you come to my house my refrigerator is covered with pictures held up by Jesus magnets. “Please Jesus protect me from your followers,” says a man in a suit talking to the Savior.
“Jesus is coming! Look busy!” proclaims one with Jesus knocking on the door of a church.
“I’ve found Jesus!” proclaims another. “He was behind the sofa the whole time.”
“Stop using Jesus as an excuse for being a narrow minded bigoted ass!” says a favorite.
There are maybe 50 of them covering the white of the fridge. People will come over and spend an hour standing in front of them reading and laughing or … giving me the death stare.
Well. It’s not my fault. It is Bill Berry’s.
And in the middle of my fridge is a magnet of the Prophet Bob Marley which says “Emancipate your self from mental slavery.”
And it seems as I look at them now, 50 versions of Jesus are looking at Bob Marley and smiling.
