field guide to Televangelists
At first glance, Perry Stone may appear strikingly similar
to other human beings, but don’t be fooled. Behind that
cunningly moronic grin lie three rows of razor-sharp teeth,
capable of easily tearing through a gym class climbing rope.
Pupils have developed vertically, for ease of reading miniscule
Scripture passages. Double-jointed hands can blur through
Bible pages faster than the human eye can perceive. Neutral-hued
suits allow him to virtually disappear into crowds of human
beings. Eyebrows, thick and jute-like, can be vibrated back
and forth rapidly, and are used like sandpaper as defense
Look for Perry Stone in damp shady hollows, under forest
debris. Frequents the banks of cool, life giving rivers
which quench men’s thirst for knowledge.
A high pitched “Gawwwwwwwduh”, and also, a shrill “Andthankeejesussssssss”
are sure signs that Perry Stone is near.
A master of disguise; many people have stood right over
Benny Hinn and not taken notice of him. Through the marvel
of adaptation, Hinn has evolved into a crisp, foreign version
of anyone’s most despised relation. Able to fold and unfold
collapsible wheelchairs quickly and efficiently. Spine bent
from years of hoisting cripples in the air. Though no one
has ever come close enough to inspect Hinn’s break wall
of silver hair, it is alleged to be spun of fine aluminum
strands, a gift from Satan for Hinn’s years of devoted servitude.
Look for Hinn in clinic dumpsters, scavenging used crutches
and blood-caked gauze for use in tent crusades.
Though Hinn may appear docile, his mastery over elementary
magic is unquestionable, and he will not hesitate to call
on his dark powers if cornered. Many unenviable parishioners
have found themselves on the stinging end of a ‘cone of
frost in the ass’ spell for not giving Hinn a wide enough
berth in the aisles.
A rotund and jovial imp, John Hagee is like a ripe fall
gourd which someone has painted a face upon for the amusement
of children. Able to swallow a lock and key, and vomit them
up, the former undone and the key nearly digested. John
Hagee is proof that evolution has a sense of humor. With
a head the texture of a moldy collapsed pumpkin, and fingers
like Italian sausage, Hagee must regularly roll in a volcanic
dust chinchilla bath to keep his scrotum from drying out.
Look for John Hagee at campgrounds and town parks, chewing
blackened frankfurter skins from barbecue grating and fighting
with seagulls for grease soaked McDonalds bags.
More insect than man, Hagee can be kept effectively
at bay with citronella candles and bi-hourly insecticide
The two-dimensional Duplantis is the only known case of
a living being existing on a lesser plane. Able to attain
a third, more believable dimension with the help of television
special effects, Duplantis is able to pierce through his
paper-thin world and commune with lesser mortals—to the
extent that they view him from straight on; otherwise he
appears only as a thin cardboard silhouette. Duplantis’
signature pocket-handkerchief is actually a Jew-skin scroll,
inscribed with the names of people whose souls he has managed
to win playing cutthroat cricket.
Look for Duplantis in the dream-like realm between sleep
and wakefulness. For those who seek to summon Duplantis
into our three-dimensional world, an overdose of valerian
root powder will produce a deep enough coma to invite him
into your subconscious mind. Often seen cavorting with linear
planes, points, dots, specks, lines, single-celled organisms
and leathery-winged hell minions.
Though thin and not really alive, Duplantis’ burning
desire for two-dimensional companionship often leads him
to mate with coffee filters and J.C. Penny circulars.
Beast-like man with incredibly hairy arms and an appetite
for poisonous flowers. Often wears denim shirts slightly
unbuttoned to enhance his ‘regular guy’ façade. Salt and
pepper bouffant belies his deeply sinister nature. If presented
with a Bible, Tilton will compulsively chew the pages out
of their binding, becoming “drunk on the word,” and subsequently
attempting to baptize anyone within arms reach with any
and all liquids available to him, up to and including concentrated
Look for Robert Tilton wallowing in muddy swamps, grazing
on nightshade and other flora toxic to humans. Look for
wisps of brimstone smoke emanating from freshly dug graves,
a sure sign that Tilton, along with his dark master, have
been searching fresh corpses for jewelry and blood.
While Tilton may profess to be a “good guy” and “a lovable
Christian,” a quick glance at his whip-scarred, poker-burned
torso will remind you where his true, unrepentant allegiance