JESUS CHRIST’S I HAVE KNOWN
The first JC I ever met didn't really believe that he was the Christ, at least I don't think he did. He only used the name for it's shock value because he called himself “Jesus Christ Satan” and where ever he went he had his little dog “God” with him. He was a queen who dressed like as gypsy fortuneteller and cruised the City looking for converts, usually young good looking males. He liked to show these poor misguided lads the meaning of life as he understood it. I ran into him pretty often as we went to a lot of the same parties, where he dispensed the wisdom of the ages and poppers with equal fervor. He always had a new disciple or two with him and a host of interesting stories about San Francisco and it's more colorful denizen in which he was a prominent player. He even ran for Mayor of the City once. He was a write-in and everyone I know voted for him but they never even announced how many votes he actually got. I think it was rigged because if he had won, the City would have turned into a wonderland. Sex, drugs and rock and roll would have been totally legal.
The next JC wasn't a true Christ either, but he was the craziest Jesus freak that I have ever met and I've met an awful lot of them. Some have even been pretty nice, but by and large, they've all been nuts to one degree or another. Anyway, I walked to the corner of 16th and Mission to catch the 22 Filmore MUNI bus and standing there was a black dude, and I mean black, not only his skin but his entire outfit from head to toe. This guy was seriously into black.
As I walked up to him he gives me the usual "Have you found Jesus yet, brother?"
So I say, "I didn't know he was lost."
Well, that really got him going. While he's ranting and raving I notice that his right hand holding the Bible has a glove (black) on it while his left hand is bare. I interrupt him, not an easy task, and ask him what's with the glove. He stops his preaching, really looks at me then says, "The reason I got this glove on is that The Book is so powerful that if I didn't, it would burn right into my hand. In fact, I can feel the power of Jesus coming out of the Book, coming up my right arm, right into my body filling my heart with His Love, and lucky for you too cuz I hate all you crackers. If I could, I’d throw The Book down, join the Panthers, pick up a gun and start killing you honky motherfuckers for oppressing my people for the last 400 years, but The Book is just too heavy and righteous..." and with that goes back into his Jesus rap. Lucky for me he does have that Bible because he is the craziest son of a bitch that I've seen on the streets in a long time, and I’m lucky for another reason too, because here comes the 22 Filmore.
JC number 3 was a true Christ, one of the very few I've ever met. He was an Indian looking dude with long straight black hair and fringe beard. He had dark piercing eyes and light brown skin. He was small framed and short, though he always wore a white robe that made him look bigger and he always went barefoot. He even kind of looked like that picture of Jesus that almost all churches have hanging in them.
This JC didn't talk like you and me, instead he just read from the Bible. "Hi Jesus, how ya doin?"
He'd flip to the appropriate page and read you his answer. This was the only way I ever heard him speak. Anything you said to him, his answer would be a passage from the scriptures.
I once asked one of his disciples if he ever spoke regular. "Not much." he said.
He did have disciples but their numbers changed week to week. He was a true Christ because he didn't own anything except for his Bible and his robe. Everything anyone gave him he just passed along to someone else, sometimes to people who were really in need, sometimes to people who just asked. It didn't matter what it was either, money, food clothing, dope, or just some comforting, he was simply a vehicle to distribute Gods Blessings. Which is why his disciples changed so often. Most only used him to get fed or clothed or high or whatever then would move along but he didn't care, he Loved them all the same.
The next JC was a true nut case. Usually he was just a regular single working guy living in his small trailer, but once or twice a year something would snap and off he'd go on his “I am Jesus Christ and I know everything!" trip. He'd get right in your face with it too and be real intense about it. Some ignored him, some argued with him, some called the cops on him who would then come and take him away to the funny farm for as extended rest, and some assholes would beat up on him.
Once while we were sitting around the hot pools, he starts in on me with his JC rap. Something I’ve heard numerous times and did not want to hear again, so I stop him by saying, "I want you to prove that you are Jesus."
"Easy.” he says, "Just ask me anything. I know all."
I say, "Okay. What are the winning numbers for Saturdays lottery?"
He gets quiet and doesn't know what to say. I can see his pea brain rattling around inside his skull looking for as answer. If he gives me some numbers and he's wrong, then he ain't Jesus, yet he professes to know all. After a few moments I see a light go on behind his eyes, and he says, "I know the winning numbers, but I'm not going to give them to you.”
I say, "Did not you say, "Ask and ye shall receive.”
"Yes." he answers.
"Well" I say, "I’m asking and if you don't give them numbers to me then you ain't Jesus."
"But" he answers, "that's on the material plane and I don't do money."
I say, "If I win, I promise not to give you a single penny. Now tell me or you ain't Jesus."
We argue like this for some time and I can see that he's getting real upset. Finally he says, "I’m not giving you them numbers. But to prove to you that I am the True Christ, I will walk to the top of that mountain and back in one day and I will take nothing along with me." He's pointing to this really steep rocky barren 6,000 foot mountain about five miles away to it's base.
Now, it's getting close to summer and the temps are getting up into the 90's and as far as I know there's very little water up there. I don't want him to die. I just want him to shut up, so I say, "If you try to walk up there and back in one day then you are going to die." thinking that this will sober him up.
However, he says, "Then that's what I'll do to prove to you that I am Jesus." and off he goes.
I try to call him back but he won't listen, he's gone.
Next day, a friend of ours comes over to my place and says, "What did you do to Mike yesterday. He came dragging his ass into my house late last night with this story about you trying to kill him and him lost and wandering in the wilderness, and not making a whole lot of sense either."
So I tell him the tale.
"Well it worked." he says " He did ramble on about getting half way up a mountain and knowing that he'd die if he didn't get back down. And when he woke up this morning he was Mike again."
Well, for awhile anyway, as I said, about once or twice a year.
Now I've met quite a few other JC’s in my travels, but I try to avoid them because mostly they're boring, redundant and obsessive, so I won't bore you but with just one more JC tale. I had heard about Bruce JC long before I’d ever met him.
One day I had hitched to Lahina to see what was happening under the Banyan Tree, the biggest and oldest on Maui which is in the center of town and is where all the drunks, derelicts and dopers congregate along with the Haole and Jap tourist and the unemployed natives.
It is the best place on Maui to catch to latest buzz or just to hang out and watch the show. Annie, a regular, sees me, runs up to me and says, "Hi Tai, got a dollar?", her standard greeting to everyone.
I give her the buck.
Then she says, "Man, you really missed it, you should of been here this morning." And she tells me this story; "After we'd had our wake up call (a drink) this morning and we're sitting under the tree, this straight looking guy walks up and says, "Hi, I'm Bruce Jamison and I've just heard that my father's died. He left me a substantial amount of money that I’d like you all to help me celebrate by letting me take you all to breakfast.” At first we think the guy is just shitting us but no, he says he not. So the guys say how about instead of buying us breakfast, you buy us each a bottle. He says that he'll be glad to but only after he's bought us breakfast. So we think, ‘well why not?’ and off we go."
"On the way there he asks everyone we meet if the want to join us so by the time we get to the restaurant there's about fifteen of us. He asks for the manager and lays the same rap on him. At first the manager's not going for it but after awhile he says okay, but your party will have to sit in back. When the waiter comes, Bruce tells him to give us whatever we want and that he'll give him a big tip after we eat. So we all order mix drinks but are told that the bars not open yet. Things gets a little ugly until Bruce says, "I told you, I'll buy you all liquor after we eat." So we calm down and order food.
After an hour later everyone's full and we're done. Bruce calls the manager over and says, "My names not Bruce Jamison but Bruce Jesus Christ and I have just fed the masses!"
The manager says, "That's nice, but so what?"
Bruce says, "So, I have no money."
The manager asks if he’s kidding.
He’s not, so now everyone pissed off.
We ain't getting no booze, the waiter no tip and the manager no money. The manager then has the balls to ask us to pay for what we ate. We say, "No way, it was his treat."
Things start to get real ugly with lots of yelling until finally the cops show up and want to know what's shaking. The manager tells them. They ask Bruce if he intends to pay. He tells them that he has no money and wouldn't pay if he had. The cops ask if we'll pay the bill. No way, we tell them. The cops then arrest Bruce and tell us to get the hell out of there or they'll run us in too, so we split."
Quite a tale. I was sorry I missed it.
A month later "One Flew Over The Cookoo's Nest" was playing at the theater in Wailuku and I’d figured that since I’d read the book and had seen the loony bin live, that I would check out the flick. I get to Le Cinema two hours early thinking I’d get something to eat then kick back awhile before the movie started.
As I'm heading up the street to the market a guy comes up to me and says, "Hi, I'm Bruce Jesus Christ. What's happening?"
I look him over, he looks like a regular dude, short hair and nice clothes. I say, "I heard about your caper in Lahina last month, pretty cool."
He says, "Yeah, I just go out of jail for that one."
I ask why they cut him loose so soon and he says, "They found out that I’d just gotten out of the nut house on Oahu and didn't see no gain by keeping me in longer. Ever been in?” he asks me.
I don't know if he means jail or the loony bin, but since I have been in both, I just say, "Yup."
Bruce looks at me for a moment, then says, "So, what's up?"
I tell him about the movie and he says, "Good idea, think I'll come along."
I tell him that we have a couple hours to wait and he says, "Great, let's get some beer."
We buy a 12 pack and sit in the parking lot drinking, bullshitting and copping a nice buzz.
When it's time to get in line we still have a couple beers so we stash them in our pockets, buy our tickets and go in. It must be a popular movie because the theater fills up. We sit right in middle and the show starts. It's good too, some of it is even like it is inside.
Everything is going along fine except that Bruce and me are the only ones laughing. When it comes to the fishing scene, Bruce stands up yelling, "That ain't like it is!" He cocks his arm with half full beer in his hand, which he's going to throw at the screen.
I grab his arm and jerk him back into his seat saying, "Jesus Christ! (not meaning him) Sit down! It's only a fucking movie, and anyway, that's the last beer so don't waste it."
He looks around and says, "Oh yeah." and we watch the rest of the flick without incident.
After leaving the theater we buy another 12 pack, take it down to the beach at Sprecklesville and proceed to get drunk. Everything's going along fine until Bruce starts talking religion and I say, "Fuck that shit! I don't want to hear it."
Bruce gets hot and starts cursing me.
I tell him to "Fuck off!" which to my surprise, he does. He just gets up and splits, leaving me with the beer. Nice to meet you JC.