Oral Roberts, the famed Oklahoma faith-healer, has finally bought the six-foot pine condo.
Here's one of my earliest memories of this fabled con artist, from one of my first blog posts:
My first exposure to these clowns was through my grandmother. She had been crippled by a severe stroke, and lived with us most of the time. I can remember her watching this charlatan's TV programs, and watching Roberts "heal" shills from the audience. "I just wish I had that kind of faith," she would say, after Roberts would shriek that her illness was still with her because of her unbelief.
I think my intense opposition to scams, ripoffs, and con artists, regardless of their party affiliation, comes from watching Oral Roberts with my grandmother.
If you want to see a present day healing, you could do worse than this video. You'll get the general idea after the first minute, the baby Nyquil wears off at the 6:45 mark, and the Superiority Dance starts around 7:15.
At the 8:03 mark, the kid demonstrates that she might still be inhabited by Beelzebub. Or KISS bassist Gene Simmons.
At the 8:20 mark, the child is restored, and spends the rest of the video begging to be adopted by a nice elderly widow in Somalia.
That's all I've got on Oral Roberts. I absolutely detest that pious fraud and what he put my grandmother through.
Lock me in a room with Oral Roberts, Jimmy Swaggart, Pat Robertson, and a gun with only two bullets?
I'd probably shoot Oral Roberts twice.
A lot of this is just the beer talking. But if I didn't make my point....I really, really, really didn't like that man.