Just tell me why we should refrain from pointing to the wealth amassed by religious personalities like the late Rev. Berniece Hicks.

The Main Street "house" owned by the late Rev. Hicks is up for sale.

Meanwhile in Indianapolis, I believe Session 5 of the estate auction is scheduled in October.

Even the auctioneer is thunderstruck.

“In nearly 30 years as an auctioneer, I’ve never seen a collection as large as this one”, said Darin Lawson, CAI, President, Wickliff Auctioneers. “Our staff is eager to begin the process of sorting and cataloguing all items, and making them available for worldwide bidding.”

Hicks was a preacher, and she had a church. Maybe she owned the church; maybe it owned her. Obviously she owned lots of stuff. One needn't devote hours of research to grasp that the church Hicks founded has been controversial almost from the beginning, as this front page from 1979 attests.

Note the effort made 40 years ago by the Courier-Journal to get Hicks' and her church's side of the story (naturally the News and Tribune didn't bother in the aftermath of Hicks' death, preferring the usual platitudes), and indeed, even I am compelled to admit there are two sides.

I heard from local residents over the weekend who've lost family members to what they consider is a cult. Others have spoken of love and service to mankind.

And: A million dollar house in New Albany, and a collection of valuable so vast that is makes a luxury auctioneer's head spin.

I'm an atheist, and my skepticism pertaining to religion predates all the other aspects of my life (travel, beer, politics, small business ownership) that readers may know about me.

From mainline mega-churches old and new to Christianity's hundreds of bizarre splinter sects, about the only points of agreement amid the cacophony is derision toward rationalists like me.

I've no desire to proselytize non-belief -- it doesn't even make sense to do so -- but from my perspective as an onlooker, the "prosperity gospel" alibi used to shield personages like Hicks surely is the most cynical P.T. Barnum-like of all notions somehow derived from the figure of Jesus as handed down to us. Even a cursed, filthy, drunken atheist can read desert scrawlings and conclude that the Jesus narrative, real or contrived, had nothing to do with wealth accumulation. 

But didn't all those church members tithe voluntarily?

I'm sure many did, although in any power structure there's a long discussion to be had about the nature of "voluntary," because it's seldom all that simple. Significantly, even if the members tithed "voluntarily," this fact in itself tells us nothing about the manner by which their faith was manipulated and their money spent.

Lifestyles of the ostentatiously rich and pious? Okay, but don't expect me to look the other way. 

Following is an excerpt from Elmer Gantry, the classic satirical novel, which makes this point in gripping fashion.

Elmer Gantry, the traveling evangelist who loved whiskey, women and wealth, was conceived by Sinclair Lewis in a best-selling 1927 novel. Lewis went on to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, and Gantry went on to lofty-synonym status: Displays of hypocrisy and showmanship will often evoke his name, especially in reference to preachers — and, increasingly so, to politicians.

In this passage, the garrulous wealth-accumulating charlatan preacher Gantry converses with the humble and impoverished true believer, Pastor Pengilly – and it happens in Indiana, of all places.

---

He came with a boom and a flash to the town of Blackfoot Creek, Indiana, and there the local committee permitted the Methodist minister, one Andrew Pengilly, to entertain his renowned brother priest ... when he heard that the Reverend Elmer Gantry was coming, Mr. Pengilly murmured to the local committee that it would be a pleasure to put up Mr. Gantry and save him from the scurfy village hotel.

He had read of Mr. Gantry as an impressive orator, a courageous fighter against Sin. Mr. Pengilly sighed. Himself, somehow, he had never been able to find so very much Sin about. His fault. A silly old dreamer. He rejoiced that he, the mousy village curé, was about to have here, glorifying his cottage, a St. Michael in dazzling armor.

After the evening Chautauqua Elmer sat in Mr. Pengilly’s hovel, and he was graciously condescending.

“You say, Brother Pengilly, that you’ve heard of our work at Wellspring? But do we get so near the hearts of the weak and unfortunate as you here? Oh, no; sometimes I think that my first pastorate, in a town smaller than this, was in many ways more blessed than our tremendous to-do in the great city. And what IS accomplished there is no credit to me. I have such splendid, such touchingly loyal assistants — Mr. Webster, the assistant pastor — such a consecrated worker, and yet right on the job — and Mr. Wink, and Miss Weezeger, the deaconess, and DEAR Miss Bundle, the secretary — SUCH a faithful soul, SO industrious. Oh, yes, I am singularly blessed! But, uh, but — Given these people, who really do the work, we’ve been able to put over some pretty good things — with God’s leading. Why, say, we’ve started the only class in show-window dressing in any church in the United States — and I should suppose England and France! We’ve already seen the most wonderful results, not only in raising the salary of several of the fine young men in our church, but in increasing business throughout the city and improving the appearance of show-windows, and you know how much that adds to the beauty of the down-town streets! And the crowds do seem to be increasing steadily. We had over eleven hundred present on my last Sunday evening in Zenith, and that in summer! And during the season we often have nearly eighteen hundred, in an auditorium that’s only supposed to seat sixteen hundred! And with all modesty — it’s not my doing but the methods we’re working up — I think I may say that every man, woman, and child goes away happy and yet with a message to sustain ’em through the week. You see — oh, of course I give ’em the straight old-time gospel in my sermon — I’m not the least bit afraid of talking right up to ’em and reminding them of the awful consequences of sin and ignorance and spiritual sloth. Yes, sir! No blinking the horrors of the old-time proven Hell, not in any church I’M running! But also we make ’em get together, and their pastor is just one of their own chums, and we sing cheerful, comforting songs, and do they like it? Say! It shows up in the collections!”

“Mr. Gantry,” said Andrew Pengilly, “why don’t you believe in God?”

Come with me and escape ... from the Watch Tower: "Armageddon is always coming tomorrow."

Photo from Insider Louisville.

Kevin Gibson has written a fine article about (Insider Louisville) "a former Jehovah’s Witness and his quest to help others."

First, an excerpt from Wikipedia about the ... Christian denomination -- or is it a cult? Definitely a fringe sect among believers, claiming a mere 8.5 million adherents worldwide.

Jehovah's Witnesses are best known for their door-to-door preaching, distributing literature such as The Watchtower and Awake!, and refusing military service and blood transfusions. They consider the use of God's name vital for proper worship. They reject Trinitarianism, inherent immortality of the soul, and hellfire, which they consider to be unscriptural doctrines. They do not observe Christmas, Easter, birthdays or other holidays and customs they consider to have pagan origins incompatible with Christianity. They prefer to use their own Bible translation, the New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures, although their literature occasionally quotes and cites other Bible translations. Adherents commonly refer to their body of beliefs as "The Truth" and consider themselves to be "in the Truth". They consider secular society to be morally corrupt and under the influence of Satan, and most limit their social interaction with non-Witnesses. Congregational disciplinary actions include disfellowshipping, their term for formal expulsion and shunning. Baptized individuals who formally leave are considered disassociated and are also shunned. Disfellowshipped and disassociated individuals may eventually be reinstated if deemed repentant.

Read Gibson's articles here:

Shunned: A former Jehovah’s Witness and his quest to help others (part 1)

Shunned: A former Jehovah’s Witness and his quest to help others (part 2)

 ... (Mike) Shemwell, now 41, hosts a podcast called “Shunned,” through which he not only tells his own story, but allows guests to tell their stories about escaping religious cults and other oppressive situations.

The podcast has more than 100,000 unique downloads, and Shemwell has found himself a guest on several other such shows.

The number of those excommunicated, often by choice, from such religions is growing, Shemwell says. He wants to help people not only escape their situations if they so desire, but also to heal once they’ve moved into a more “normal” lifestyle.

For the Shemwells, they faced a life of never seeing or hearing from their families again when they left. They faced a world in which they had no friends.

But they’ve not only survived — they’ve thrived. They now have a legion of friends, ironically, in people they knew before they were “disfellowshipped” from the religion as clients of their cleaning business. They’ve visited Niagara Falls and hiked the Adirondacks. They live a happy, American life.

But from the time Shemwell was 8, life was not so free, nor was it always happy ...

"Rev. Bernice Hicks, founder of Christ Gospel Church, dies."

I have neither the time nor the energy to devote to a detailed rendering of the religious quackery embodied by Bernice Hicks, who died a few days ago. However, we all deserve an obituary, even if it avoids the controversial bits.

LEGACY OF LOVE: Rev. Bernice Hicks, founder of Christ Gospel Church, dies, by Chris Morris (Tom May Sidestepped This One)

 ... Rev. Hicks, who founded the Christ Gospel Churches International, which has its headquarters on 10th Street in Jeffersonville, died Sunday. She was 99 years old.

A letter dated Aug. 12 from the Rev. Allen Conway to members of the church confirmed her passing.

"It is with great sorrow to share that our mother, and our Beloved Pastor and Spiritual Guide, Rev. Bernice R. Hicks, has passed from this life to eternity. She went to her Heavenly Home earlier this afternoon."

Under her leadership, Christ Gospel Church has more than 2,000 members at its Jeffersonville church, and more than 1,000 congregations throughout the world. She also wrote more than 120 books during her ministry.

Andrew Takami, a longtime member of the church, called the religious leader a "mentor" and said the two had a deep friendship.

"She had a lot to do with my spiritual growth," Takami said. "We were very close."

It should be noted that for an inveterate skeptic like me, religion is quackery by definition, and so I'm not singling out the late Sister Hicks as an exemplar.

Far more importantly, it strikes me that younger readers might not even know that for almost as long as Christ Gospel Church has existed, it has battled accusations of being a cult. Can it be denied that Hicks herself was the object of a personality cult?

Gahan had to get the idea from somewhere, and Warren isn't Pentecostal.

Deep Study: Berniece Hicks, Christ Gospel Church International

Of all the sub-cults inspired by, affiliated with, or created by Rev. William Marrion Branham, the Christ Gospel Church International (CGC) followers of Rev. Berniece Hicks is most interesting by proximity. Its headquarters is also located in Jeffersonville, Indiana, less than three miles from the Branham Tabernacle. When asking the locals if they were familiar with the religious cult in Jeffersonville, it is not surprising that the answer given is often "which one?"

Of course to me, they're all cult-like to lesser or greater degrees, but specifically, the legendary Courier-Journal expose in 1979 served as a coming-out for Hicks' critics.

At a website called Seek the Truth, cult survivor John Collins elaborates.

Deep Study: Berniece Hicks, Christ Gospel Church International

Of all the sub-cults inspired by, affiliated with, or created by Rev. William Marrion Branham, the Christ Gospel Church International (CGC) followers of Rev. Berniece Hicks is most interesting by proximity. Its headquarters is also located in Jeffersonville, Indiana, less than three miles from the Branham Tabernacle. When asking the locals if they were familiar with the religious cult in Jeffersonville, it is not surprising that the answer given is often "which one?"

When new escapees of the CGC group first contact us, they are often surprised to learn how many of their "sacred teachings" were so similar to that of William Branham's teachings.

Collins quotes the 1979 C-J piece.

... Those who escape give similar testimonies of undue influence, further supporting the studies of mindcontrol in the "Message". But these stories are nothing new. Apparently, Christ Gospel Church International has been under examination for several years as members escape and give testimony.

The former members said that Mrs. Hicks controls the lives of her church members, that she delves into their sexual habits, that she tape-records conversation she has with members. They say that she is given large sums of money, that she has a valuable collection of antiques bought with church money, that she has an unlimited expense account.
Courier Journal, April 12, 1979

Investigative reporters have looked into the financial allegations of the CGC sect for years, concerned that donations to the church were being used for personal gain.

"There is so much money involved here ... We talked with people who gave their refrigerators, their TVs, even their houses, to the church. I think when you're talking about large amounts of money, it takes the subject out of the private sector and into the public sector."
Courier Journal, April 15, 1979

In recent years, it seems that a new generation of Christ Gospel adherents has made a conscious effort to main-stream-line the experience. However, dissidents remain.

The link to the featured website is broken in this NA Confidential post from September 18, 2016, making a point that these dissidents come and go, and it wouldn't surprise me to learn that a "hot" propaganda war is being fought all of the time between the church and its recovering former members.

Whither Sister Hicks and the Christ Gospel Church?

Interestingly, the book Christ Gospel Church and Sister Hicks Revealed: A Critique of the Bride's Message, which is mentioned at the web site (below), was published only three months ago.

In turn, these critiques remain topical after 37 years. According to the math in the newspaper article from 1979, Sister Hicks now is somewhere around the age of 97.

Has her Main Street domicile ever been included on the Historic Home Tour?

Whoa.

Christ Gospel Church and Sister Hicks Revealed

This site was created for those who wish to know of or have ever been associated with Christ Gospel Church and Sister Hicks and provide them an in-depth review of her doctrinal teachings, specifically her own fabrication of the Bride's doctrine. In it, we will layout a clear and fair judgment of Hicks and her teachings. Bernice Hicks, better known as Sister Hicks, makes prolific claims for herself and the "message" she espouses. That message is called the "Bride's message." Hicks claims that God personally gave her this teaching. When Hicks states that Jesus Christ speaks to her, she does not mean it as most would say, allegorically, but as in the flesh. By analyzing her claims and weighing her teachings against the writings of the apostles this site will attempt to show that Hicks' doctrine has no support from the scriptures and should be considered an inferred fabrication. Her persistence to falsely proclaim and uphold a special prophet status with her congregation would eventually be her undoing.

Previously:

Praise the Lord and pass the Hoptimus, it's a miracle! Sister Hicks' sidewalk escapes Rosenbarger's (wrecking) Balls.

Altogether now: "Business news is the worst part of mainstream media. You’re no better informed by reading it than by reading nothing at all."

Heck, we talk about business all the time.

ON THE AVENUES: Taco Bell has as much to do with "local business" as Jeff Gahan does with "quality urban design principles."

Meanwhile, begin your week with this video cam of foxes pillaging the hen house, and remember:

Yanis Varoufakis, business cults, and why I refuse to wear a suit.

The prime reason for this violent, lifelong allergic reaction to the trappings of chambers of commerce and like-minded business idolatry societies is their vacuously obnoxious glorification of business for the sake of business, in the form of endless rounds of symbolic pom-pom waving, mysterious networking rites, totemic seminars and expense account driven re-education junkets, the sum total of which is the perpetuation of eager, grasping and typically greedy cadres of business “elites”, each dressed exactly alike, refusing to travel in steerage, wholly ignorant of the universe beyond their sales strategies, but perfectly capable of exchanging indecipherable business lingo and colloquialisms that surely would have inspired Sinclair Lewis to update the saga of “Babbitt” for an even more annoying age.

A beertrepreneur? That's something completely different. Now strap on those Wall Street Sickness Bags and enjoy.

The Calm Before the Crash, by Whitney Wimbish (The Baffler)

Business news is the worst part of mainstream media. You’re no better informed by reading it than by reading nothing at all. In fact, you might be worse off—if you’re sucked into the assumptions of neoliberal economics that are the only existing reality on Wall Street. Those theories boil down to one point: It’s your fault if you’re poor.

snip

A typical criticism of business-page reporting is that it’s not really for regular people, it’s for investors. And, sure, it acts as another set of society pages for richies and helps them make money. But that’s not all it does. Financial news depicts Wall Street from the Wall Street perspective. And it depicts us as Wall Street sees us.

Think about the MarketWatch article from earlier this year, widely mocked on Twitter, which repeated an investment company’s claim that you should have twice your annual salary saved by the time you’re 35. That column isn’t just laughable tripe; what it really does is launder finance industry propaganda that says people don’t have enough money because they’re not saving enough. Not because specific policies have sapped their money, not because retirement products sold by Wall Street don’t work, not because of a tax code that was bad even before Trump got his hands on it. Because of individual bad decisions. It’s your fault!

It doesn’t take a special background in finance to understand that’s a lie. You likewise don’t need to know the details of the Dodd-Frank Act or Trump’s efforts to dismantle it to know something is very wrong in our economy, despite what so many articles would have you believe these days. But here’s some data anyway ...

You may wish to pour a drink before continuing.

Just like before the 2008 crash, personal debt is at an all-time high and some borrowers are defaulting at an increased rate, for example on car loans. Total household indebtedness is $13.2 trillion, the Federal Reserve Bank of New York said in May, $536 billion more than the last high point, which was in 2008. For some perspective, with $13.2 trillion, you could fix Flint’s water crisis more than 60,000 times over. Meanwhile, corporate debt has also grown to an all-time high, with $5.3 trillion in outstanding corporate bonds—and half of the bonds issued in recent years have been downgraded to “junk.”

Total household indebtedness is $13.2 trillion, the Federal Reserve Bank of New York said in May, $536 billion more than the last high point, which was in 2008.

When it all comes crashing down, you know which group will get a bailout. For everyone else, another crash will compound the misery caused by the last one ...

"It can be difficult to separate fact from myth regarding the House of David and its baseball history."

1927.

I could have sworn that I'd mentioned the House of David's barnstorming baseball cultists previously. Evidently not.

Ryan Ferguson's piece is a good introduction to the hirsute, pepper-playing celibates of yore, although I must concede to a measure of annoyance that the author is seemingly unaware of the Oakland A's of the early 1970s. Long before Boston's "idiots," the Swinging A's pioneered bearded and mustachioed modernity in baseball.

Ironically, I wrote about it only recently.

ON THE AVENUES: It no longer keeps me waiting.

1974.

The A’s became my team, and Reggie Jackson my favorite player. Unbeknownst to me, the A’s also were about to become quite good, winning five divisional titles in a row from 1971-1975, and three consecutive World Series crowns in 1972, 1973 and 1974. The players grew outlandish mustaches and beards during this period and wore white shoes, all of which outraged the older generation, endearing the team to me even more strongly.

Oddly, I cannot recall my father expressing an opinion either way about the House Of David. At the same time, he wasn't much of a churchgoer.

The religious sect that became baseball's answer to the Harlem Globetrotters, by Ryan Ferguson (The Guardian)

The House of David was an Adventist cult that banned alcohol, sex and shaving. But it also loved baseball – and its teams toured the country to enraptured crowds.

In recent years, extravagant facial hair has become increasingly popular in Major League Baseball. The fad likely began with the 2004 Red Sox, as Johnny Damon and other self-proclaimed idiots wore flowing manes in contrast to the clean-shaven Yankees, who they eventually toppled to win the pennant.

Since then, many players have gained attention for creative beards, with former Giants closer Brian Wilson perhaps the most famous. Yet while these modern exponents are perhaps more recognizable, the art of fine baseball beards can be traced back over a century, to the House of David, a virtuoso team of religious believers that toured the country for almost five decades. Theirs is a compelling tale.

Whither Sister Hicks and the Christ Gospel Church?

Interestingly, the book Christ Gospel Church and Sister Hicks Revealed: A Critique of the Bride's Message, which is mentioned at the web site (below), was published only three months ago.

In turn, these critiques remain topical after 37 years. According to the math in the newspaper article from 1979, Sister Hicks now is somewhere around the age of 97.

Has her Main Street domicile ever been included on the Historic Home Tour?

Whoa.

Christ Gospel Church and Sister Hicks Revealed

This site was created for those who wish to know of or have ever been associated with Christ Gospel Church and Sister Hicks and provide them an in-depth review of her doctrinal teachings, specifically her own fabrication of the Bride's doctrine. In it, we will layout a clear and fair judgment of Hicks and her teachings. Bernice Hicks, better known as Sister Hicks, makes prolific claims for herself and the "message" she espouses. That message is called the "Bride's message." Hicks claims that God personally gave her this teaching. When Hicks states that Jesus Christ speaks to her, she does not mean it as most would say, allegorically, but as in the flesh. By analyzing her claims and weighing her teachings against the writings of the apostles this site will attempt to show that Hicks' doctrine has no support from the scriptures and should be considered an inferred fabrication. Her persistence to falsely proclaim and uphold a special prophet status with her congregation would eventually be her undoing.

Praise the Lord and pass the Hoptimus, it's a miracle! Sister Hicks' sidewalk escapes Rosenbarger's (wrecking) Balls.

"People have a remarkable ability to explain away evidence rather than change their cherished beliefs."

I never knew Rose Colored Delusion was a Kool-Aid flavor. Sells well here in New Albany, though. This article begins with the most relevant historical reference, and proceeds through ways that cult-think occurs outside the election cycle.

Cultish Thinking in Everyday Life, by Derek Beres (Big Think)

 ... The practitioners of mind control are not restricted to cult leaders and religious sects. Instead, they walk among us on a daily basis.

Yanis Varoufakis, business cults, and why I refuse to wear a suit.

Photo credit: Guardian

Note that Wetherspoon's is a casual pub chain in the UK, and give ample props to Yanis Varoufakis for his New Age-style, "Castro-in-fatigues-at-the-UN" moment. Then I'll explain why suits don't suit me.

Greek finance minister Yanis Varoufakis goes casual at number 10, by Imogen Fox (Guardian)

... It was apparent from the photocall on Downing Street that we were witnessing a bit of a fashion moment. There was Osborne, himself riding high on his rebooted fashion skills with his Julius-Caesar haircut and properly fitting suit, shaking hands with a man wearing a Wetherspoon’s-appropriate bright-blue shirt and an early-1990s madchester drug dealer’s coat. The shaved head, the feet apart hands-in-pockets bouncer’s stance and the easy grin serving to underline the look.

I resemble these remarks.

At present, I own one suit, and since I lost weight, it's now much too roomy. It hasn't yet occurred to me if there'll be implications in my mayoral campaign, apart from observing that just because one isn't wearing a suit/uniform, it doesn't mean he cannot dress appropriately.

Can a person dress like a normal human being and be mayor? It sounds like an experiment worth performing. The following has been written and revised several times, most recently in March of 2014 as a Potable Curmudgeon column at LouisvilleBeer.com.

---

The PC: It doesn’t suit me.

I pay fairly close attention to civic affairs in New Albany, and perhaps this owes to broad personal interests and a degree of community-mindedness, although as in most communities, a taste for low comedy doesn’t hurt.

Among the political tugs-of-wars witnessed on a daily basis throughout the year, those various mechanisms by which municipal governments of all ideological identities – both country and western – pretend to develop their economies have come to be especially entertaining to me.

Whether it’s my town or yours, they tend to work the same. A business purporting to be the second coming of Henry Ford, Ben & Jerry and Versace, all rolled into one unstoppable juggernaut, argues that it is poised to bring great joy to the inhabitants, not to mention a job or three, if only (ahem) the business climate might be adjusted just a tad. Consequently, it is gifted with a heady cocktail of incentives, including tax abatements, loans, grants, discount sewer coupons, lottery tickets and oral sex on demand.

It’s a little known fact that these businesses actually must make some semblance of a theoretical case to merit their share of governmental largesse, as in a certain number of positions to be created, machines purchased, and dual-purpose flanges shipped. And so they do — theoretically. City councils salivate with Pavlovian aplomb, stenographers (still quaintly referred to in some quarters as “journalists”) cut and paste from breathless press releases, mayors pad their resumes, and the incentive pies are duly sliced.

Ostensibly, that’s where the public/private partnership begins, but in the real world of attention spans the length of a fruit fly’s adolescence, it’s where the relationship usually ends. The barn door has been left ajar. Calendar pages turn, concrete is poured, accountants diligently wield their fiduciary looms … and then, every once in a while, something exceedingly strange happens to shatter the monotony.

At a meeting, a timid hand will be raised, and an inconvenient question proffered:

"Excuse me, resident economic development tsar, but all these claims of jobs and sales and market dominance justifying the incentive package you awarded this company … well, did they actually create those jobs? Did they really ship that many flanges, or was it only a projection? Was anything they were saying actually true?"

Crickets chirp, and pins are heard dropping. The patriotism of the questioner is ridiculed.

Somewhere, a stenographer dozes.

—

Thinking back to the time when I was asked to explain how I’d managed to survive in business for more than two decades with a lowly Bachelor of Arts in philosophy and history, rather than appropriately seductive parchments in business, I recall spitting, harrumphing loudly, and barking back at my interlocutor: Because serendipity rules our planet, and thinking outside boxes trumps rote recitation … and I doubt any of it is taught amid the quasi-theological curriculum at “business” schools.

I went into business because I love beer, and an opportunity was presented for me to love beer (for inconsequential and symbolic pay) while sharing my love of beer with others. It was nothing more at the time, it is nothing less now, and it remains absolutely nothing to build a business school curriculum around.

I’m very, very proud of that fact.

An autobiography is still possible; if so, it will be entitled “Beer, Bile & Bolsheviks: A Fermentable Life,” although if the tome ever comes to fruition, there’ll be precious little inside it about spreadsheets. Numbers are what you hire other people to understand, while carefully applying the greasepaint, rehearsing the shuck and jive, and performing “My Way” for the 3,657th time.

America’s weird indigenous cult of business achievement titillation repels me. My personal heroes have always been artists, baristas, musicians, chefs, writers, actors, dancers, sportsmen, brewers and other practitioners moving within the less easily quantifiable realm of creativity.

How and why they’re paid is far less interesting to me than how they create, and what they produce in an aesthetic sense. How do their physical skills capture the output of their brains?

If the business of America truly is business, then it causes me to openly shudder, and if so, my personal “business” encompasses looking elsewhere – anywhere will do – for a higher order of inspiration, as opposed to worshipping techniques to amass and maintain wealth. While it’s true that Bruce Springsteen is handsomely rewarded for creating music, give me the Boss over Donald Trump, any day. I can whistle along with music, but only wince at avarice.

As a matter of convenience, I accept the term “businessman,” but prefer to think of myself as a beertrepreneur.

The very root word “entrepreneur” is suitably French. There’s an element of daring and risk contained within it, contrasting with “businessman”, which sounds far too numerically vocational and conservative for my blood. Entrepreneurs sweat to create, and can relate to Lear’s raging. Businessmen wear dull threads and merely manage the inspiration of others.

The prime reason for this violent, lifelong allergic reaction to the trappings of chambers of commerce and like-minded business idolatry societies is their vacuously obnoxious glorification of business for the sake of business, in the form of endless rounds of symbolic pom-pom waving, mysterious networking rites, totemic seminars and expense account driven re-education junkets, the sum total of which is the perpetuation of eager, grasping and typically greedy cadres of business “elites”, each dressed exactly alike, refusing to travel in steerage, wholly ignorant of the universe beyond their sales strategies, but perfectly capable of exchanging indecipherable business lingo and colloquialisms that surely would have inspired Sinclair Lewis to update the saga of “Babbitt” for an even more annoying age.

—

That’s why I generally refuse to wear a suit. I waited a long time to find a line of honest work that would permit me to dress like a normal human being. My uniform is different from yours, just as a football player’s is different from mine. Having found such a pursuit, permitted to be both comfortable and unhesitant to dribble hot wing sauce down my chin, I’m hesitant to surrender the autonomy.

I’m a craft beer kind of guy, and there’s a saying in the craft beer business: We brew beer, we drink beer, and we sell what’s left. At the end of the day, if there still are a few farthings lying around, then we made a profit, and while I readily acknowledge the imperative of making a few bucks, it’s worth repeating that love of beer is what drew me to my business.

History, geography, lore and storytelling about beer are my interests. Being truthful in relaying them is my goal. Anything less is Wal-Mart … or AB InBev.

It was inevitable that craft beer would grow up, but if growing up means embracing the tactical fictions and emulating the attitudes of our mass-market brethren, you can count me out. I’d rather raise that timid hand, rouse the steno from the clutches of the sandman — and repair to the nearest bar.

Todd Blue Moves.

The great Charlie Pierce famously enjoys maligning the web site Politico by referring to it as "Tiger Beat on the Potomac."

And what is Tiger Beat?

Tiger Beat is an American fan magazine marketed primarily to adolescent girls. It is currently published by Laufer Media, Inc. of Los Angeles, California, which also produces its sister publication, Bop.

I'm tempted to declare that henceforth, as it pertains to its breathless fawning, fluffing and fellating of the business community, Insider Louisville should be known as Tiger Beat on the Ohio. Tempted, but I shan't ... primarily because Kevin Gibson and Steve Coomes do good work.

It's just so very tiresome to be asked to worship "business" people, when so many other sectors of humanity are far worthier. The cult of business is a sickness and an aberration, even if I'm engaged in it. Admire artists, musicians and even the occasional second baseman. Do not look to folks like Todd Blue as role models. It's beyond kinky. It's ugly.

Speaking of Blue, who cares whether he is here in Louisville or peddling auto-centrism in Houston?

Todd Blue: No city our size has this many billboards with a college president’s face on them, by Terry Boyd

 ... Blue says his departure is more about Louisville than it is about him.

“‘Do we want to lose young, aggressive entrepreneurs?’ is a different question than about Todd Blue leaving town,” he said ...

... “It’s a beautiful, beautiful community. But there is nothing to gain by being politically correct.”

It's getting deep in here.

When an American Business Idol says it isn't about the money, it is, and when he insists it isn't about him ... it also is; in Blue's self-aggrandizing case, incessantly so, seeing as Boyd's piece doomed us forthwith to a follow-up from Blue himself, in which he declares Mayor Fischer the greatest ever, trembles with glee over the Ohio River Bridges Project, and in short, makes very little sense at all, rather like the boys and girls screaming in ecstasy over their pre-pubescent heroes.

Hence, Tiger Beat on the Ohio. However, even a stopped clock is right twice a day, and Todd Blue is no exception.

Todd Blue: ‘U of L is not Louisville, and Louisville is not U of L’, by Todd Blue

... There are many businesspeople in Louisville who feel this way but cannot speak to this because they have to live and operate – and compete – with U of L. Heck, maybe they are scared U of L will pull their season tickets.