And A Few Became What They Are
An unknown man walking through the streets of Washington D.C. was feeling tormented by something, as if something or someone was following him. When the man reached the Lincoln Memorial he was confronted by his tormentor who was nothing less than the eternal tormentor, Satan himself. The Evil Spirit asked the unknown man why he lacked followers, and the man replied: "They are blinded from the truth."
And Satan made an offer, "I have access to all of the money in the world, and it is this that the masses seek. If you accept this fact, all will follow you." And the unknown man accepted. The masses of persons followed but they became not what they are.
* * *
An unknown man walking through the streets of Washington D.C. was feeling frustrated by something, as if he was going about things in the wrong way. When he reached the Jefferson Memorial he was confronted with the eternal frustrator, Satan himself. The Evil Spirit asked the unknown man why he lacked followers and he replied:
"They are blinded from the truth."
And Satan made an offer. "I have the ability to bring all of the world's nations together under on unified state, and it is this that the masses seek. If you accept this fact, all will follow you." And the unknown man accepted. The masses of persons followed but they became not what they are.
* * *
An unknown man walking through the streets of Washington D.C. was feeling angered by something, angered because people could not see who he really was. When the man reached the top of the Washington Monument, he was confronted by the eternal rage, Satan himself. The Evil Spirit asked the unknown man why he lacked followers, and the man replied: "They are blinded from the truth."
And Satan made an offer. "Leap from the Monument, for when the angels catch you and save you from falling the people will be bewildered and amazed, an it is this that the masses seek. If you accept this fact, all will follow you." And the unknown man leaped. The masses of persons followed but they became not what they are.
* * *
An unknown man walking through the streets of Washington D.C. was feeling anxious about something, anxious about what he knew would happen to him later in the day. When the frightened, unknown man reached the podium at the base of the Washington Monument, he was confronted by the source of his anxiety, for he knew that when he began to speak he would be shot. The eternal tempter, Satan himself, approached the man, and asked why so many had gathered to listen to him, and he replied: "Because they hear something that rings true." And Satan made an offer. "But you do not have to die, for if you die, who will proclaim the truth? Come down from that podium so that you may continue your ministry." And the unknown man accepted, and saved his own life by doing so.
* * *
A middle aged man, not known by many, trekked down the Pacific Coast Highway towards a densely populated city in southern California. He had hitchhiked most of the way from his origin in the north, depending on others for his transportation. Although many of his fellow hitchhikers protruded their thumbs horizontally, this man chose the vertical style, pointing his thumb upwards toward the cloudless, blue sky. In his experience, the vertical style caught the attention of the drivers much more efficiently, and as a result, this classic version passed the test of time, as one almost never sees the horizontal style expressed any more across the weaving interstates in our land. And sure enough, just as he had confirmed the truth of the matter, a produce truck pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, beckoning the unknown man to his cab. The driver rolled down the passenger side window. "Where 'ya headed?" Even though the driver could not even see the man underneath door, the unknown man replied, "Los Angeles, or as far south as you can take me." With about just enough hesitation as one could perceive, the driver replied, "Fine, hop in." As cars speeded passed the truck, children would stare into the cab and see the stereo-typical truck driver, that is , a big, burly head and face, both covered with enormous amounts of hair, with a non-filtered cigarette, barely perceptible, sticking out from somewhere in the bunches of facial hair. The interesting thing was that all the cars could see was the man's head, for if they were to have access to a more complete view of the man, they would soon be surprised to find a midget behind the wheel. But the passenger didn't notice. The driver took a long, full drag from his cigarette and blew smoke rings into the windshield whereupon they would expand into hazy circles covering almost half of the reinforced glass. As he did this and other things, including sipping his coffee, flipping through the channels on his radio, and eating a day-old ham sandwich, he asked the passenger what he did for a living. The passenger replied, "I'm in the construction business." "Is that where you're headed then, to a construction site?" "Not exactly. As I was finishing my last job I had a sort of calling to preach. I've decided to start on the west coast and work my way across the nation to Washington D.C. The words just seem to come right out of my mouth-pretty strange, huh?" "What sort of stuff you preachin'? You one of them end of the world guys?" "No, not really. It's all kinda new I guess, but it addresses the needs of our present situation." The driver was surprised by his new passengers occupation, and for an instant, thought about dropping him off at the next exit. After all, he thought, you can't be too careful, especially in California. But for some reason this stranger seemed safe enough, and so he decided to keep going . He explained to his passenger that he drives a set route that starts to head east right at L.A. whereupon he drives to Nevada, then north through Nevada and finally back west to northern California. When the driver started to head east he dropped his passenger off and let him know that a few groceries were to be built near there, most definitely in need of construction workers. The passenger thanked him for the ride and advice and stepped down from the truck. At first, almost nobody listened to the unknown man, but soon enough, his popularity grew. Most of his followers were people who had been oppressed in one way or another, although he attracted a few from almost every walk of life. He offered the people nothing tangible, he was not in favor of a revolution against the oppressors, on the contrary, he asked his followers to forgive their oppressors. But he did offer them a "new way of life", one leading to "the only true happiness". The authorities saw the unknown man in a different light, for their attention was caught when he declared civil law as unbinding and subordinate to what he established as law, that is, "Divine Law" as he called it. The authorities thought he sought to attack the unity in the country, for the law was the only thing that produced that effect, however remote it was. Thus, from the beginning of his ministry, the authorities kept a disciplined eye on his whereabouts and doings. Finally, when his popularity seemed to peak, he disappeared, leaving a message behind to his followers to wait for him in Washington D.C. After having preached for his first time, the unknown man made his way to the desert where he spent much time thinking about the words that seemed to spring from his tongue. As he walked down the blazing highway, a bright red Budweiser truck pulled off the road and asked him if he needed a ride. He accepted and took his seat next to the driver. As they started on the highway the driver offered him a beer, "After all, I'm allowed a few damaged cases, and if I'm careful I can do with them what I please." The unknown man declined and the driver shrugged, "O.K., but it can get awful hot through the desert." As they continued on the driver would periodically gaze at the passenger inquisitively, as if he could see straight through him. This bothered the passenger. When he looked directly into the driver's eyes he identified him immediately. "Satan, you are Satan."
"Pleased to meet you, looks like you already caught my name. Where are all of you followers?" "I've left them all behind, but they will find me." "Maybe so, but you only have a few thousand, and there are millions that reject you-how do you plan to penetrate more? For surely a few thousand will not do, especially if it is true, that as you say, 'the kingdom of God is in our midst.' Don't you see that it is passion that drives the masses of people-for it is pleasure that they seek-give them pleasure and they will follow you in great numbers." The cab of the truck was getting hotter and hotter to the point where it was unbearable. Just one sip of something cold would alleviate the pain-just one, small, thirst quenching sip. "Are you sure you don't want a drink? You're soaked through with sweat, surely you must be thirsty? Here, I'll open it for you." As the can slushed open, the unknown man winced. Satan continued, "If you don't believe me, look and see how Budweiser's doing, and for that matter, look into all the companies that address the luxurious needs of man-you'll find that such corporations are doing very well indeed, for they know what I'm trying to tell you. And cash runs the whole show, for money is no longer a means to distribute goods and services, but an end in itself, something to be sought for its own sake and then stashed away to reproduce and reproduce and reproduce... And I offer you this powerful currency, all that you will ever need to control the masses, just say the word and it will be done." The unknown man smiled at the driver and asked him to stop the truck. As he exited the cab he turned to the driver and said, "Budweiser only has fleeting commercial spots-and I require a feature-length film." He jumped down from the truck and sustained himself in the dust that the truck spat at him as it sped away.
* * *
The traveling man found himself on the side of the road in the middle of the desert, far away from the place he called home. He was now a foreigner. And primarily two things characterize the foreigner, one obvious characteristic being that the foreigner is not at home, the other being a result of the first, namely a yearning for the return home. Although he lived most of his life in the northwestern United States, he never really felt at home; as a matter of fact, he never really felt at home anywhere. But now more than ever, while traveling across the landscape, he felt further away from anywhere that he could call home than ever before. The foreigner did not know much about the desert, but very quickly he learned the most important thing about it: there is absolutely no escape from the dreadful heat. He felt like an old, dry sponge that had been twisted and turned so that every last drop of liquid had been literally sucked out of him. And just as at it seemed like the last drop had been extracted from his person, he remembered watching something on the Discovery Channel that had let out to the public an age-old secret that the cactus plant produced a sort of milk. Of course, this didn't help him much because there was not a cactus in sight, and worse yet, there was not one within fifty miles of his present location. As he scanned the horizon for cacti, he spied an image of what seemed to be a sea shell, and assured himself that there must be a lake or ocean within the next few miles. Contrary to his belief, there was no ocean or lake, as the shell was a mere sign designating a gas station. Nevertheless, he achieved his goal and took in some water slowly, careful not to put himself in danger as he had seen in the old west movies. Too bad the Discovery Channel didn't offer up this valuable information to the masses, one has to be a Clint Eastwood fan in order to be privy to such life-saving knowledge. The man away from home made his way to the counter and laid down his supplies. The clerk scanned the items carefully, making sure that none of them were on special. Not that the store's special had changed for the past year, a free "Rock 'n Roll from the Fifties" cassette worth about as much as the candy bar that came with it. The clerk noticed that the man indeed had purchased the candy bar in question, and reached under the counter for the customer's free, Rock 'n Rollin' tape. The foreigner thanked the employee of the month for the tape just as a bright, white, limousine pulled into the fill-up station. As the man away from home started back on his journey, he passed the lengthy limousine and noticed its Texas license plate surrounded by political bumper stickers. In fact, slogans such as "Hank will take you to the bank", and "Re-Elect Hank Rogers For The Senate" covered the entire bumper. Apparently "Hank" thought that our man was a gas station attendant. "Hey there partner, how 'bout a fill up?" He was from Texas all right. "I'm sorry, I'm not who you think I am. I don't work here." The unknown man wondered why he had asked for service when he had clearly pulled next to the "self serve" pump. "You don't work here? I'm sorry-but if you don't work here, where's you car?" The Texan's logic was sound. There was not another car in the entire lot. "Oh, I don't have a car. I travel mostly by foot." "Well I tell 'ya what son, if you pump my gas for me, I'll help you knock out a few miles. How 'bout it?" The foreigner accepted, knowing that the individual behind the drawling accent was pure, unadulterated evil. As he pumped the gas he noticed that there was not a driver-but he was sure that the Texan Senator had stepped out from the back of the limo. While he tried to figure out this mystery, the fat Texan paid for the gas by way of the credit card console conveniently located at the pump. The Senator opened the door for the unknown man and practically shoved him into the vehicle. "Why don't you put in the cassette?" Somehow the Senator had known that the foreigner had received the free tape. He pulled it from the inside pocket of his jacket and started to insert it into the cassette player. The Senator stopped him just as he was about to play it. "Hold on just a second there, partner. Let's take care of some business first." Strangely enough, as the foreigner looked out of the window, he did not see the gas station as he had expected, but had just passed a sign that welcomed him to St. Louis. "I think you know who I am, and I surely know who you are, so let's cut to the chase." The fatter of the two poured himself a scotch and water, shaking the drink back and forth so that the ice cubes would rattle. "Now son, where are all them followers of yours? It looks like you's all alone." The foreigner replied, "They will meet me in from of the Washington Monument. In fact, some are there as we speak." The fat man squished his way around the seat, straightening himself up. "As a matter of fact, that's the reason I came to you-that is , you're speaking. You see, that there tape you're about play don't have no Rock 'n Roll music on it. That tape is very valuable-especially to someone like you. Don't you see it son-if you just listen to that little 'ol tape, you'd be armed with one hum-dinger of a speech when you reach the capital. In fact, if you give that speech, I can gare-un-tee that you will be elected President for the next two terms. And better yet, during your last term, the countries of the world will be united under one democratic rule, providing the very unity that the world craves. And if you've been reading the papers lately, you'll know that I, myself, am working my way up the political ladder. I'd be your right hand man-we'd be partners." The Texan lit up a juicy cigar the size of a banana, as if confirming the deal. "Well, how 'bout it? Just pop in the tape and let nature run its course." The unknown man looked the Senator directly in the eye, and then turned to look out the window. The St. Louis Arch soared into the heavens, rooting itself paradoxically at the base of the earth, while finding its completion in the sky. He turned back toward the Texan and glanced at the cassette reflexively. The man away from home really wanted to take the cassette. After all, it was his tape. As he eye-balled the cassette one last time, he noticed a grin on the Senator's face that was as big as the lone-star state itself. "I really don't have any political aspirations, but thanks just the same." The limousine stopped abruptly, almost before he had completed his sentence. The door opened of its own accord, and the foreigner stepped out onto the searing pavement. The limousine started away slowly, creeping its way down the road until it disappeared from view completely.
* * *
The foreigner found himself in a strange place once again. He was walking through the streets of St. Louis, stopping here and there to speak to those who would listen. He wondered where his next meal would come from as he passed luxurious restaurants, smelling the delicacies that were being carefully prepared. He imagined the cook meticulously placing the garnishes onto the gold-rimmed plates as if they were rare pieces of fine art. Art that would be scarfed down some ungrateful throat, destined to find its resting place in the bowels of a hungry consumer. The stranger turned the corner, re-oriented himself toward the east, and noticed a few isolated men resting against a worn down building. He asked one of them where he could get something to eat. The lonesome man pointed to the entrance of the building and grumbled a few unintelligible words. The stranger made his way through the entrance and recognized the place as a "soup kitchen". He greeted the server and gratefully accepted the hot meal that was offered to him. When he had finished eating and had left, all of the inhabitants of the soup kitchen looked at each other in bewilderment. For everyone, including the men outside on the sidewalk, had a feeling that they had just eaten Thanksgiving dinner. Their breath actually smelled of turkey and cranberry sauce. Full-bellied and ready to proceed, the unknown man walked off the exit ramp and onto 70 East, with a purposeful look on his face. This time he got to know the highway well, for it was a few hours before anyone would stop to pick him up. He noticed that the road looked entirely different from his present viewpoint; the pebbles on the shoulder of the road seemed more real, as did the corn that he could smell to the left and right of him. He wondered, as he did often, if anyone had stepped exactly where he had stepped; he wanted to know if anyone had ever placed themselves in the exact spot in which he was presently situated. Millions of people had passed this spot at a rate of 65 miles per hour, but probably no one had noticed it. It was now his place, and he decided to rest there. After a while, as he looked searchingly down the interstate, he spied a caravan of trucks that seemed to be traveling together. All of the trucks were red, with flamboyant colors swirling in and around the trailers. It was the carnival. The driver of the first truck waved to the stranger as he picked up his CB to communicate with the last truck. As each one passed, artificial faces and bodies acknowledged the stranger. The last truck in the caravan pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, crushing the pebbles that only just a moment ago had seemed so real. The traveler hopped into the truck and greeted the sole inhabitant. Immediately he identified the driver as the carnival's magician; the magic wand on the dash board gave it away. Decks of cards were strewn all around the cab, together with false coins, bits of string, and oddly shaped jewels imbedded in cigarette-sized sticks of wood. The only thing missing was a rabbit and a hat. "Hi."
"Hello."
"Sorry 'bout the mess. As you might have guessed, I'm the magician. Sometimes I practice my tricks while I'm driving-it helps pass the time." He said this while he carefully, yet thoughtlessly passed a quarter across his knuckles. "Where's your final destination?" he asked the man without a home. "Washington D.C."
"You're in luck-it just so happens that our next gig happens to be there. You're welcome to ride along the whole way if you like." "That's very kind of you. Maybe you could teach me a trick or two along the road." The magician showed the stranger a few tricks which he, the stranger, seemed to have a natural disposition for. Oddly enough, when the stranger looked out of the window, a sign designated their entrance to the famous Pennsylvania Turnpike. Before he knew it, they were entering Washington D.C. Seeing that he was almost out of time, the magician made his offer. "You seem to be a natural with magic. What would you think of joining the gang?" The stranger didn't answer; he had revealed himself. "I've been thinking of taking on an apprentice. All you have to do is perform a few tricks-you know, amaze the crowd and all that-you're sure to be a success. Listen-be sensible. You know as well as I do that they will follow you if they witness the power that you possess. Right now, those bums you fed in St. Louis are waking up early to attend communion service. The unknown man was angered. "But that was different. That was not a trick. There was a good reason for doing that, a reason that has to do with people becoming what they are. They were hungry, and deserved a good meal. What I did was not an end in itself, or a means to gather followers. They were hungry. I fed them." He wondered why he even bothered to explain. The magician started to tell him that they expected a sell-out crowd, but before he had finished, the stranger had stepped out at a red light. As the man away from home walked down Constitutional Boulevard, he saw glimpses of a crowd forming. They immediately recognized their awaited speaker, and led him to the Washington Monument. He was sweating profusely.
* * *
The unknown man walked through the streets of Washington D.C. feeling anxious about something, anxious about what he knew would happen to him in a very short time. When the frightened, unknown man reached the podium at the base of the Washington Monument, he was confronted by the source of his anxiety, for he knew that when he began to speak he would be shot. The eternal tempter, Satan himself, approached the stranger, and asked why so many had gathered to listen to him, and he replied: "Because they hear something that rings true." And Satan made an offer. "But you do not have to die, for if you die, who will proclaim the truth? Come down from that podium so that you may continue your ministry." But the man, soon to be home, declined the offer. When he began to proclaim the truth, a shotgun blast sounded off from the front of the crowd. The bloody scene that resulted made possible the salvation of the human race. That blood cleansed the world of all wrong. Three days later was the first day of Spring.
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Updated Thursday, 04-Mar-2004 14:58:27 PST