PhotogHobbyist wrote:
I remember them. I heard that Jim was a real fan of hardcore pornography while in federal prison. I also heard they removed Tammy Faye's make up and found Jimmy Hoffa.
The joke about Tammy Faye being Jimmy Hoffa was around in 1979 or 1980. There was a morning radio host in Charlotte, Robert Murphy. He and sidekick, Larry Sprinkle, did legendary bits about PTL, which became known as the "Pass The Loot Club". They had an intro song, and a soap-opera like motif that went on for a few minutes a couple of times a week or so. One of them involved Tammy Faye and Hoffa. They were some of the most biting satire I've ever heard. Sometimes truth hurts.
My wife and I were eating at a Mexican restaurant on Charlotte's Albemarle Road, Chi-Chi's, I think it was, near the old Eastland Mall (now long gone). Jim and Tammy Faye walked in and sat down, and a hush fell over the room. Then the insults started flying at them. They had been seated near a table of prom dates from one of Charlotte's elite secular schools (it was April). About two minutes later, after chants of, "Slut! Slut! Slut! Slut! Cry for us, Tammy! Slut! Slut! Slut! Slut!", Jim got up, red-faced as a stop sign, and grabbed Tammy by the hand, her makeup streaming down her face. They shot out of there like clowns from a circus cannon. I ALMOST felt sorry for them. (Naahhh! My favorite movie is Animal House.)
My father in law was a modest Baptist preacher. He was a faithful guy, and probably the most reasonable, fair, sincere, compassionate, and good-hearted man of the cloth I'd ever met since high school. He always said that PTL was a blight on the face of Christianity, because it was polarizing and selfish and corrupt.
Selling false hope is probably the absolute most cruel thing radio and TV evangelists do. I remember DX listening to AM radio in the '70s. We lived in Greenville, SC, at the time, which is just at the base of the foothills, 45 minutes South of Asheville, NC.
I could pick up plenty of mountain radio stations with my long wire antenna in the attic. A few of those stations had nothing but scoundrel broadcasters, selling everything from prayer rugs to holy water to snake oil to God knows what all. "Put your hay-und own thuh rad-yo and be he-uld! And friends, wow-unt ya send us $20 to support these browd-cay-usts? The more you say-und, the more gee-zuz will blay-uss yew."
Give me a break.