Breaking News: Black Church Building Fund Located

By Haroldamus

Today Archaeologist uncovered what appears to be the remnants of a building that housed the mythical black church building fund. For hundred of years African Americans donated money to this fund only to never see it used or any records kept as to how much was donated into it. The building fund was found in what appears to be an abandoned graveyard for fried chicken and ham hocks bones near the abandoned home of the late black minister, The Right Reverend Bishop T.A. "Cash" Moneyclipp

Because of his close relationship with God, Bishop Money was able to annoint all donations to any black church building fund and have all of them flown directly to him by angels each and every Sunday. Bishop Money was not a selfish man. For he was known to donate religiously to the recently uncovered secret slush fund called the American Black Pastor's Cadillac (and Mercedes) Funding Association. Until he died, Bishop Money would donate in the nine figure range every year to this fund; which was used to buy new Cadillacs and Mercedes Benz automobiles for the millions of black pastors that lead churches that had less than twenty members.






Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Introduction: The Glass Lot

I often think of my hometown of Berkeley, California; living on Berkeley Way up the street from the Glass Lot Baseball Field. We called it the Glass Lot because it was, to the casual observer a vacant lot of cement, broken glass and occasionally a junked car where winos, addicts and the homeless disposed of their bottles and other trash on a nightly basis. It was also where we played Baseball in the spring, summer, and early fall despite the hazards of broken glass and leftover cement that were remnants of a multi-storied parking lot razed long before I was born.  The “preseason” usually started in February or at the latest, the first week of March.   Preseason was never planned. Or even discussed. Everyone instinctively knew the day and time the preseason would begin and we would put on our usual baseball attire; jeans, long sleeve t-shirt, Hi-Top Chuck Taylors, baseball cap and enter the Glass Lot and go through the ritual of choosing sides to play the first baseball game of
Read more

1978: An Ode To My Father

Image
An Ode to My Father January 9 th , 2020 marks the forty-first anniversary of my Father’s death. That year, 1978, was the year my life changed. Looking back over my life, the path I’d chosen prior to 1978 made little sense to anyone but the 20 year old me. I’ve never been one to choose or capitulate to the status quo definition of how one should live life. I’ve always chosen to go up what the majority of society, and African-American society in general considered to be the steepest and roughest side of the mountain. I did so not because I had something to prove. I did it because I wanted to experience life unconditionally and do so without owing a debt to anyone or anything that would cause me to compromise my will and self-determination. To put it where the goats can get to it and in my Mother’s own words, “I was a hardheaded motherfucker.” The summer of 1978 is when everything changed for me. The Saturday before Father’s day that year, Dad came over to my apartment to visi
Read more

My Man, Dick Clark!

Image
I know I’m going to shed a tear tonight. I feel myself welling up already and I’ve been thinking about this day since I heard the news that Dick Clark died. Dick Clark was New Year’s Eve to me. I watched Dick Clark on New Year’s Eve ever since my parents allowed me to stay up and watch the celebration at the age of twelve in 1970. As a teenager, no matter what slamming party my friends and I were at, at 11:45 the party stopped and all eyes were focused on the TV, Dick Clark and the big ball that was about to drop to welcome in the New Year. Millions of other party guests, club hoppers and just plain folks sitting in front of the TV were tuned in all over America to watch Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rocking Eve. In my twenties, I would be at a nightclub or house party and the same thing would occur. All activity would stop until Mr. Clark said “Happy New Year.” It didn’t matter to me that people in other parts of the world either had celebrated or were preparing to celebrate the Ne
Read more