November 2, 2007
by Volt and Electra Penn
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About the time President Bill Clinton was redefining the meaning of the word 'is', I was working on a series of articles about religions, their followers and their politics for an alternative newspaper. I'd gone in every direction, examining every denomination, even pagans. Madalyn Murray O'Hair would be the last voice needed to give my belief piece the widest angle possible.
O'Hair's residence was located on a manicured street, taken from a Robert Kincaid gloomy suburb, where all light from within the homes had been darkened by drawn shades. I'd interviewed enough people to know a person's venom was in their words, not their bite. But this time, before walking toward O'Hair's den of atheism, I stoked my courage with a Red Bull. When a UPS truck pulled up in front of her house, I fell in behind the driver who carried a box to the front door.
A man I recognized as Jon Murray signed for the parcel. Before he could close the door I side stepped the uniformed driver, held up my press-card to introduce myself and asked if I could spend a few minutes interviewing his mother. His mouth didn't have time to produce a yea or nay, before a booming nasal voice from inside the house yelled, "Who the hell is it, now?"
After sweating through a quick give and take between mother and son, I was escorted into the inner-sanctum, and told that all questions would be allowed, but no tape recorder. That was fine because I usually took notes. I didn't want to be unprofessional and admit my recorder batteries were dead anyway.
The smell inside the house was wet fur, mothballs and boiled cabbage. Chairs, tables, desks, etc. looked used, maybe from a rent-a-furniture store. The place needed a 'queer eye' to do something 'happy' with the dozens of souvenir trinkets, books, moving boxes and collectable whiskey bottles scattered everywhere. Amongst the clutter was the country's most opinionated Jabba-the-Nut, nestled in an overstuffed sofa and smelling of eu de Ben-Gay.
Madalyn pointed me to an uncomfortable looking straight-back chair. While I was getting seated, her eyes looked me up and down. "Want the full skinny on me?" She asked. "Save us both some trouble. Go to the Austin History Center. It's all on file down there."
"Not here for a bio," I assured her. "Would you mind if we talk about religion, Christians and how it all relates to politics?"
Her silence was deafening. For all I knew Madalyn was working up steam to explode or send me packing. Instead of answering the question, she grinned, hacked, belched and spit into a Kleenex. "Goddamn," she was finally able to cackle, "Ain't you the investigative reporter?"
When she leaned forward, Madalyn's mouth was off and running full speed.
"Listen, before we start, I want to set the record straight. There's nothing wrong with christers if they weren't so hell-bent on getting everybody to heaven. Leave me out of that nonsense. I think if religion is so important to people they should study them all. A thorough exploration of the world's great religions should be a prerequisite for all who dare enter politics. That is if they want to get along with those from other parts of the world.
"Listen here Pal, everybody's heard that rock and roll singer Bruce Springsteen. I don't know much about him except he's got a cute butt. But hell, I was born in the U.S.A., too. So were millions of others. We all pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and sang 'O beautiful spacious skies - or something like that. I didn't 'swear to God' in court - but hell, I wouldn't swear to God anywhere. So, you ask, can the 'most hated woman in America' still love her country? Sure, because her country is a representative form of government of laws---not men.
"Used to be the whole world saw America as beautiful, with purple mountains from sea to shiny sea. Take what happened before, during and after World War Two. England asked for help, we stood up and told them yes. When they asked if we'd fight, we showed them we could. We the people saved Europe twice just in this century. Then we topped the freedom pie, when our troops passed out chocolate bars and leaky condoms. Nothing wrong there except for more cavities and a higher birth rate.
"Now, this country has swept some pretty shitty secrets under the rug. Nothing's perfect, even Democracy. There's Reagan's El Salvadore fuck-up, the Guatemalan massacre in the fifties. Way before that we invaded and annexed the Philippines. I could go on and on, but----ahhh what's the point? If it hadn't been us, some other country would've stepped in and done the dirty work.
"But, everybody knows when Uncle Sugar and G.I. Joe show up in a foreign country the hookers have jobs, the churches don't get taxed but still rake it in, and local politicians skim off everything else. Except for Vietnam, most countries don't mind us sticking our nose under their sheets because eventually everybody's palm---if they hold it out---gets greased."
"What about Castro?" I asked. "He doesn't want us there on any terms, just like Ho."
"Uncle Ho had his hand out and would've let us set up shop in Vietnam, but J.F.K. was sold on the domino theory or some sort of bullshit. When the frogs got kicked out of Vietnam, he had no other choice but to bite Ho's butt. What we found out in Cuba was that Fidel couldn't be bought with dollars only rubles. We tried to kill the old goat and that didn't work. History sent us another way and J.F.K. wound up dead instead.
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"You see, even though this country has a few warts, it's still America the beautiful to me, and the only bulwark the world has to prevent World War III. Take this horny goat that's in the White House, now. Ol' Bill has his faults but who doesn't? I do believe he's got more brains than balls and won't bring on Armageddon. That's what the christers want. Those assholes are into death and destruction for the whole world. Hell, I'd feel safer with a Mormon in the White House than a christer.
"Fat chance of that happening," I said. "Say, about your title? Does it bother you?"
"Ha! Goddamn, you mean the most hated woman in America? I picked that one myself. It was and still is good PR. I decided that if the holy rollers wanted a straw dog to kick - then goddamnit, here I am. Everybody with a brain cell knows the Bible was written by early Madison Avenue admen in robes and sandals. That book has been translated and edited so many times nobody knows what was in the original.
"Listen, ignorance is what makes people hate. All those do-gooders and church goers praying to Jesus tell you he just loves everybody to death. If that's the truth then why would the christers hate me? No matter what anybody thinks or what they're told - I am not a devil, only a messenger who wants to make sure kids in public schools are not discriminated against or subjected to religious propaganda. It's the law these days, but who knows for how long."
When Jon Murray appeared from the kitchen with a Diet Dr. Pepper and handed it to Madalyn she took a gulp, thumping her chest to let out a belch. Once she cleared a spot on the cluttered coffee table, Madalyn set the soda down and started flipping through a mound of newspapers, mumbling to herself when she held up the prize to inspect.
"What do you see?" She asked, shoving the black and white picture in my hand.
"Some bearded guys in turbans."
"Those idiots call themselves the Taliban. They're a bunch of religious fanatics over in Afghanistan. The stupid bastards are so hyped up on keeping Islam pure, they put all the Afghan women in burkas and blow up an ancient stone carving of Buddha. They're in this country, too - only here they call themselves evangelical Christians.
"Take away the expensive suits and Billy Graham, Oral Roberts, Falwell - all of 'em, are nothing but American Taliban. Mark my words, if those assholes get their way we're all dead meat. If you or anybody else doesn't believe - then by god they'll torture you until you squeal.
"The way I see it, it's them against us. Ever read 1984? Now that's some scary shit, but it's happening in this country as we so speak. I'm not afraid Big Brother, it's those thousands of intolerant little brothers and sisters he'll spawn. The only way 'we the people' can stop the takeover is to wake up and get a goddamn brain."
From another room a phone rang. Jon poked his head around the corner and held up a cell phone.
Madalyn yelled, "Who the hell is it, Jon?"
His low-key one word reply was, "Waters."
"Shit," Madalyn sputtered, "I hate that David Waters. Well, listen kid, we're about done here, aren't we? I got one more thing I want to add. Make sure to get this written down. I believe the citizens of this country are good people, but that doesn't keep them from tripping down the wrong path. What they need to do from now on is vote, goddamnit. Vote for their own best interest, not for someone else's interest. It's the only way to tell their government to get up off their collective asses and do the right thing."
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Have Penn they'll listen. Volt Penn writes speeches for Progressive Populists and reasoned arguments for those on the left of center. He has also written speeches for anybody who has read his work. You can reach Volt Penn through his artist friend, b.b.kemp, at bbkemp@bbkemp.com
Volt/Electra Penn copyright 2007
