Shall we all raise a glass to Beacon Journal reporter Bob Dyer for his sizzling X-rated series exposing Ernest Angley, the cultist tactile preacher with a fascination for hands-on (HEAL! for God's sake) salvation, leeches and the size of...um...penises.?
Angley, slicked coal-black wig and all, has been the mega-star attraction for 20 years at Grace Cathedral, the huge saucer shaped man-made hillock in Cuyahoga Falls with an unfinished tower that was to serve as the modern version of Jacob's ladder topped with a restaurant.
What is it about televangelists who claim to render unto God what is God's and to themselves what is royally theirs? Several teleministries, as enriched as they were, have seen their leaders dismissed in sex-related scandals. Jimmy Swaggert comes to mind. And there was Jim Bakker, whose significant other ended up in full unclothed view of Playboy scanners. There have been others of more recent vintage.
Bakker is a narrative worthy of a how-to manual. He recently returned to public scrutiny for his venture in "End of the World Biscuits" - and please don't think I'm kidding. He is asking TV viewers to prepare themselves for the Apocalypse by laying in survival kits that include heavy clothing for sunless days.
Maybe he and Angley can crack a deal that would sell the critical end-of-days foodstuffs at the top of that tower. With this preacher, as Bob Dyer has forcefully reminded us, anything is possible.