Part 29 (2/2)
”Welcome to the South.”
”I couldn't believe the things he was saying.”
”He was being nice, too,” I pointed out. ”It's usually a lot worse.”
”Why?”
”You ever gone to a Baptist church?” I asked.
”No.”
”I have yet to meet a Baptist preacher who wasn't some fatuous gasbag spewing the most violent rhetoric he can think of just to compete with the others. Whenever you hear some over-the-top bit of nonsense from these folks, it's a Baptist. Remember that preacher in North Carolina who said gays and lesbians should be imprisoned behind a barbed wire fence and left to die out? That was a Baptist. The G.o.d Hates f.a.gs guy? That's a Baptist. If you ever listen to these guys start whining about states' rights, you'll understand why we had a Civil War. They know how to get people stirred up.”
”I could not believe some of the s.h.i.+t he was saying.”
”He gets it from American Family Radio.”
”What's that?”
”It's like a religious version of Rush Limbaugh. They're on the air all over the South with millions of listeners. They talk about how gays can be cured-”
”That's bulls.h.i.+t!”
”They don't let the facts get in the way. I was listening the other day after the Supreme Court came down in favor of gay marriage, and they were saying that crime will increase, and more people will go to prison, and state social services will be overwhelmed, and the children of gay parents will suffer and become criminals when they grow up-they don't have a shred of proof for anything they say. They just go out there and say it.”
”Is that legal?”
”I guess.”
”How can they get away with that?”
”This past year we finally started staging protests outside their headquarters.”
”Where is that?”
”In Tupelo. Not far from the hospital where you work. We show up, carry a bunch of signs, argue with them when they come out, sing a few songs. Most of the news media is too afraid of them to provide coverage, so it doesn't really do much good. The mayor, our city councilmen, our state representatives, our senators and congress people-they don't want to be seen with us. They don't want to risk p.i.s.sing off the AFA because they'll go on the air and destroy them.”
”It's the twenty-first century, Wiley.”
”Maybe in Boston, but not here. A few months ago the first openly gay candidate for mayor of a small town in Mississippi was murdered. Not far from here. Police say they don't know what happened. But you don't think people down here want a f.a.ggot for a mayor, do you? It's all hush-hush, and the news media is too afraid to dig too deep because they might lose some advertisers. That's just how it works down here.”
”That's incredible.”
”I'm just trying to answer your question,” I said. ”When Billy talks nonsense, that's where he gets it. On the radio in the morning on his way to work. From his pastor, Brother John. All these fatuous Baptists. Plus I made him really mad by telling him I wouldn't wipe my a.s.s with his precious Bible. I shouldn't have said that, but I get so frustrated with the bullc.r.a.p.”
”Is he always violent?”
”Not really. I went out of my way to make him mad.”
”That doesn't give him the right to hit you.”
”I like to cut through the c.r.a.p and get to the point.”
”How is your lip?”
”Busted it pretty good. Of course, that's the standard Baptist answer anytime you can't get what you want.”
”I don't think I want to visit your house anymore.”
”Sometimes neither do I.”
”And your grandfather....”
”Leave my Papaw alone.”
”He's crazy.”
”We don't hide crazy,” I said. ”We put it on the porch and let it entertain the neighbors.”
41) Some TLC
”OUCH!” I said. said.
Jackson smiled apologetically as he dabbed at my busted lip with an alcohol-soaked cotton swab.
We were at my kitchen table. The overhead fan did little to ease the stuffiness and humidity of a Southern night. Noah was in bed and I was reluctant to let this weekend end.
”I've got to get going,” Jackson said again. ”It's almost midnight. I've got to be at work by eight.”
”I know,” I said. ”What's stopping you?”
”Are you going to be all right?”
”It's just a fat lip.”
”I feel like I should stay here and take care of you. I could call in sick tomorrow.”
”I'm not a baby,” I said. ”I'll be all right. Your sick kids need you more than I do.”
He put the cotton swab aside, a look of unhappiness stealing across his face.
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