Page 58 - Billy Graham in Heaven

The Promised Land Pub
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Hamburg and thrilled I was. America was he. Energy boundless, power resounding and optimism unlimited. Down those stadium stairs to him I walked and one with earth and heaven I felt. America saved us, and Billy was what we saw as best in our saving. Christianity and freedom saved you from demons’ fascists and communist atheists.”
Newt pulled his New York Yankees baseball cap down over his eyes and took a disgusted chug of beer.
“Graham,” said Cathy, “primarily wants people to avoid sex mania, drug addiction, and excessive selfishness — all of which would be of great value to you Newt.”
Newt readjusted his cap. His lips formed a little circle on the left of his face, like when Popeye held his pipe when he was going to toot it. He got up from the table and bowed elegantly to Cathy and Greta. “See y’all later,” he said, and sauntered over to the bar.
“Feelings you hurt,” said Greta to Cathy.
“Alcohol anesthesia will drown any feelings he’s got,” said Cathy. “If it wasn’t for his good looks that boy would be a drunk nothing.”
“Maybe,” Jake said distractedly. “But just think what power there is only twenty minutes down the road. He’s probably the most formidable religious leader on earth, and maybe in the last 2,000 years. If there was something we could do to make him take a dimmer view of war, we’d have a greater effect than all the peace demonstrations combined.”
Cathy lit a rare cigarette, took a deep drag of nicotine and exhaled a cloud. “Yeah Jake, nice hallucination. I bet if something like that happened though, I could prove Newt