Page 57 - Billy Graham in Heaven

50 Billy Graham's Glorious Jam
bar noise.
Cathy laughed. “Newt, if you had half of the integrity
of Graham, you might have some power. He’s the one TV preacher who doesn’t use God to seduce women, con money, or do whatever Jim Bakker did to Tammy Faye to make her hide under all that make-up.”
“Graham’s running a protection racquet and he doesn’t even know it,” said Newt. “Only instead of threatening to break knees to shakedown his ten percent, he threatens eternal torture.”
“Graham is a good man, and his backing of the Gulf War is just part of his being the American pope,” said Cathy. “Someone has to be.”
She looked at Jake, wondering where he was. His green eyes meandered in her direction, unfocused, and he began rubbing his eyebrow. “Earth to Jake,” said Cathy gently, touching his arm.
“Yeah, I used to somewhat respect him too,” admitted Newt. “That was before I heard about his war record. When LBJ had doubts about carpet-bombing Vietnamese peasants he’d get Billy to fly up and whisper sweet nothings of heavenly absolution. Then LBJ would order more bombs away.”
Jake, by now solidly on earth, in a bar, in a conversation, said, “He has the same message as any other fire-and- brimstone preacher except with more gentility: `Do as I say and you’ll get to glorious Heaven. Don’t do it, and I’m sorry to say, you’ll have to go to Hell.’”
“That’s just the carrot-and-stick that helps people treat each other more kindly,” Cathy said.
“Yes, yes,” said Greta, smiling softly. “I saw him crusade