Glenn Beck's 8/28 Extravaganza Will Rule All the Heavens and Earth (Part 1):
Glenn Beck didn't think that crucifixion would hurt so much. Sure, sure, in an abstract sense, he understood that having nails driven into his hands and feet would cause pain. A good follower of Christ always understands that the Son of God suffered mightily. But, holy shit, it really fucking hurts. "You want us to stop?" asks Jonah Goldberg, who's wheezing at the effort.
"No," a sweaty Beck exclaims, "I promised something big. Oh, fuck. It hurts. Keep hammering." Beck screams as Goldberg shrugs and continues swinging. The nails are special: they are carved from the bones of George Washington and John Adams, sharpened femurs, polished and lacquered. The crowd of 5 million people (according to Beck's estimate - others will say it's about 20 grand) stares dumbfounded as gushes of blood coat Goldberg and fellow hammerer Stu, who's weeping, too. Blood trickles down the steps of the Lincoln Memorial as a wailing Sarah Palin kneels, facing the scene. She's dressed as one of the Marys. It's hard to tell which.
This is the climax of the day, August 28, the epiphany at the end of the weekend devoted to Restoring Honor to America. The performance at the Kennedy Center the night before was one for the ages. Beck announced the tone for the evening when he walked on stage and triumphantly held up a 10-inch vibrator made of gold, dropped his pants, and started fucking his own asshole with it, inserting it and putting it on high speed. Then he took out the skull of Woodrow Wilson, yelled, shakily, "I hate this son of a bitch," and started thrusting his dick into the eyehole, crying, singing, "God Bless America," as he came and shit at the same time. The audience at the Kennedy Center wept, too, and cheered. As assistants wiped his ass and balls, Beck, sobbing, looked out at the crowd, and said, "God told me to do that. He told me to skull fuck Woodrow Wilson while reaming myself with a gold vibrator. Thus begins the new age. Thus starts the new American miracle." Beck walked off as a riot ensued as attendees fought to grab the shit and cum-stained tissues from the stage.
Earlier on this Saturday, this God-kissed, sunshine-covered turning point of an event, Beck had had himself whipped and scourged by men dressed as George Soros and Saul Alinsky. He walked through the crowd, hauling a wooden cross, wearing a crown of thorns. At first, everyone thought that it was just a show, that Beck would make a heartfelt speech, cry some more, tell them all it was an historical day that will be remembered for centuries and be read about by children and grandchildren. And that would have been fine. Even when Beck silenced the choir and pulled down curtains to reveal Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity already crucified, most of the audience laughed uncomfortably, used to the rodeo clown antics of Beck.
But when the blood started to flow, when Beck first screeched, "Oh, fuck me," it dawned on the crowd that that motherfucker was really gonna do it. He had to one-up Martin Luther King, Jr. The only way to do that? Actual self-martyrdom.
When the nailing is finished, the radio and TV host nods and, using ropes and winches, the cross is erected so that bleeding Beck faces the crowd. He is still miked. "This is for you, America. This is for you. I'm dying for you. For your sins." He's losing blood. He wearily turns to O'Reilly. "I forgive you," Beck says. He turns to Hannity. "Go to Hell." He sees the teeming hordes, mouths open, tears streaming; he looks down at Palin, who is tweeting, "Beck xifiz for u 2be better ppl." He's having visions, having visions. He sees, as large as the Washington Monument, walking towards him, Martin Luther King. And Abraham Lincoln. And they're not wearing pants.
(Find out why tomorrow in the exciting conclusion.)