The Last Baptist Church: The Odyssey of Reverend Cheese Head Brown and Deacon Jones

By Dirty Red

I have written a 300-page book about black religious humor. I created two fictitious characters I called Reverend Cheese Head Brown and Deacon Jones. It’s a fictitious church in a make-believe Arkansas town named Turkey Scratch Arkansas. In the end, you will split your sides laughing, but to understand where I am coming from, you have to understand my background and the time and place that I was raised. I am going to help you, but first, I have to hurt you before I can heal you. Your first reaction will be to throw this book away and to curse me out, but that’s the pain we all must endure to pass the denial stage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: May 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781466982215

Dirty Red

Licoln 'Dirty Red' Wiley writes from the gut. From the beginning in the cotton fields of Arkansas, to the Los Angeles WATTS ghetto, experience has been his greatest teacher. His insight into human nature and the animal psychology of Man is immeasurable. If his fascinating accounts of prostitutes, hustlers and con games doesn't leave you wide eyed with astonishment; you will never be King in the Land of the Blind. This is realism about real people.

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© Copyright 2013 Dirty Red.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-8223-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-8222-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-8221-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013903513

Trafford rev. 04/03/2013

7-Copyright-Trafford_Logo.ai www.trafford.com

North America & international

toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)

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CONTENTS

Foreword

PART 1

Crisis In Heaven

The Moaning Bench

Looking For Jesus

Moonshine

Gone Fishing

The Holy Ghost

Eucalyptus Street

All Aboard For Heaven

Noah’s Ark

Lying In Church

Capital Punishment

And Jesus Wept

And God Wept

Knowing Someone

A Pig Named Oink

The Urinal Experience

Here Comes The Judge

The Pearly Gates

Jesus Cried

Thou Shalt Not Steal

The Parachute Jump

Rev. Cheese Head Brown’s Cheese Caper

Initiation

Church Visitor

Ride, Rev, Ride

The Bet

The Blues

The Insurance Salesman

The Striptease Club

Jehovah’s Witness Vs. Reverend Brown

Black History Month

Who’s Going To Heaven

Knowing Someone

The Latter-Day Saints

Burn The Crack House Down

Speech And Your Environment

The Church Announcer

The Tattletale

First Time

The Mental Ward

Alcoholic Vs. A Drunk

All Aboard For Heaven

Flippin’

The Eagle And The Buzzard

Rev Over All

The Prodigal Son Leaves

A Man Lost

Why Was I Born?

The Christmas Story

God’s Chosen Children

A Pig Named Oink

Bye-Bye Black Sheep

Monkey Man

Cummins State Prison Farm

Rev Starts Downtown

Church Visitor

A Day In Court

The Carpool Lane

Hog Humping

The Miracle

Really Hung

A New Low For Reverend Brown

A Texas Tale

Automation

The Closet

The Upper Room

Illegal Arkansas Love

Parrot Talk

Sister Odel Get Happy

The Race Thing

The Penis Evolution

The End

Deacon Jones’s First Flight

Black Muslim 11

The Inevitable

Deacon Jones’s Bus Ride

Shoot To Kill

Ride Rev Ride

Watermelon Man

The Church Thief

The Collection Plate

Crying Out Loud

Chewing The Fat

Size Up Deacon Jones

Deacon Jones’s Big Win

What If

Sister Cleo’s Toes

Deacon Jones Goes Hunting

The Cop Test

Deacon Jones Stops Cussing

The Funeral

The Boys Of Summer

The Doctor Visit

Drinking Buddies

Rt. Reverend Dr. Cheese Head Brown

Observation

Down Memory Lane

Dark Town Strutters Ball

The After Party

The Blind Preacher

Road Rage

A Bum’s Rush

Sperm Race

Barnyard Love

The Gay Guy

The Church Bake Sale

Soldier Boy

Lottery Ladies

Born-Again Boy

Swearing And Cussing

The Parrot Speaks

The Monkey Speaks His Mind

Nymphomania

The Piano Player

Black And White

Mother And Son

Adam And Eve

Rev Visits The Holy Land

Sister Odell Vs. Sister Jackson

Xmas Party

The Marriage Counselor

The Costume Ball

Leave Well Enough Alone

Born Again And Again And Again

Man Shortage

Degenerate Conception

Pissy Drunk

The Final Straw

Wavy Hair

Feeling Good About Feeling Bad

Killing Ants

Integration

Reverend Willie B. Goode

Busted Again

The Evolutionist

Chicago Bound

Pulpit Breakdown

Wish Granted

Driving Deacon Jones

A Texas Whopper

The Storyteller

The Mormons

The Barrel

Watch Your Watch

Getting Out Of Iraq

Flight Reservations

The Good Books

Freaky Fetish

The Super Robot

PART 2

Child Abuse

Nobody’s Fool

Backstabbing

Girl Watching

Arkansas Penal System

A Piece Of Pizza

The Eleventh Commandment

Sister Ora Bell

Fish Ain’t Biting

I Pray To Preachy

The Crucifixion

All God’s Children

Mama Knows Best

Dew Drop Inn

Red Light

Well Hung

Subject Of His Sermon

Thou Shalt Not Steal

Moroons

California Tripp-In

The Baptismal Pool

Child Abuse

C. C. Rider

Creation

The Martyr

He’s My All And All

Small-Town Love

The Prodigal Son Returns (A Southern Story)

A Whale Of A Story

Don’t Stop Steppen

Unauthorized History Of The Jew

A Tall Texas Tail (Tale)

Jitterbug

Good New… Bad News

Brave Troops

Redundant

Moroons

Religion… In The Beginning

Ezekiel

Uncle Ben Howard

This Nigger Here

Missionary Prayer Circle

A Sign Of The Times

Southwest Airlines

Barely Beat The Bear

He Farted

Black Muslims 11

Communion

Uncle Ben Howard

This Nigger Here

Religion… In The Beginning

Ezekiel

Missionary Prayer Circle

The Unholy Union

The Sermon

The Here After

The Doctor’s Office

Deadwood Dick

Sister Sister

Church Procedure

Lesson In Life

High Price

The Unholy Union

The Holy Ghost

Eucalyptus Street

REVEREND

CHEESE HEAD

BROWN

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REVEREND

CHEESE HEAD

BROWN

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Introducing Deacon Jones in his usual state of a drunken stupor

Deacon Jones

FOREWORD

THE LAST BAPTIST CHURCH

I have written a 300-page book about black religious humor. I created two fictitious characters I called Reverend Cheese Head Brown and Deacon Jones. It’s a fictitious church in a make-believe Arkansas town named Turkey Scratch Arkansas. In the end, you will split your sides laughing, but to understand where I am coming from, you have to understand my background and the time and place that I was raised. I am going to help you, but first, I have to hurt you before I can heal you. Your first reaction will be to throw this book away and to curse me out, but that’s the pain we all must endure to pass the denial stage.

I am a blind agnostic. My granddaddy and my daddy were ordained Baptist preachers, and my son is senior pastor of a large church and a TV evangelist. My mother was a saint that believed that if the Bible said it, then I believe it, and my mind is nailed shut! She also believed in applying the rod so would get an daily. To make money after my father died, I would pick and chop cotton, mow lawns, dig fishing worms, and steal. This preacher’s son was headed for a life of prisons and crime. One day, I was caught stealing reading material from a retail store, and I met a wise old man that turned my life around completely. He was a Jew, but I knew no Jews, so he approached me in a way that I could neither run nor fight. Like all thieves, I planned to run if allowed to—but if not, I had a knife and I would hurt you.

However, he said in a calm way, Son, if you don’t mind, I would like a word with you. He went on to say, My clerk has informed me that you are stealing my comic books. I am not having you arrested because I asked her what else were you stealing, and she said that was all. So I decided that I would have a word with you. I wanted to tell you that we have a ‘colored’ library here in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, where you can read books for free, so you don’t have to steal my reading material.

I told him that my brother and I both had library cards, and we were allowed three books each week. Reading six books a week, I had read every book in that stinking library.

He said, I believe you, son, and furthermore, Arkansas has a department of censorship whereas everything you read has been censored—from your textbooks to your daily newspaper. However, I have a collection of books in my home that has not been censored, and if you promise to stop stealing my comic books, I will let you read them. Also, son, you must never tell anyone where you are getting these books because I could be charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor because many of my books are banned in the South.

At first my Jewish mentor was spoon-feeding me books that I could understand by black authors such as Native Son, Black Boy, and Bigger Leaves Home by Richard Wright. In between these, he would feed me books by Jewish authors such as Civilization and the History of the Jew by Rabbi Arba Eban, The Wandering Jew by Potect, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich by Albert Speer, and also Mein Kampf.

I said that I would help you, but first I had to hurt you before I can help you, so keep reading even as you curse me out. Finally, my mentor gave me a book to read with a warning. He explained that the book was banned in the South, and it was unlawful to even possess it. The name of the book was Killers of the Dream. It blew my mind completely, and then I began to ask questions and think outside the box. The author was a highly acclaimed Southern white lady by the name of Lillian Smith, and she was the author of the best seller Strange Fruit. She was arrested and banned from publishing again. The gist of the book was why the white man worked so hard for so long in so many places to build such a beautiful dream then turned around and killed it time after time. In the 1940s, she went on to predict the rise and fall of apartheid in South Africa, the civil rights unrest of the sixties, and the first black president. Today, there is a yearly award for literary achievement in her name. Now I was thinking for myself and asking questions.

Let me say that I respect the rights of others to believe in their faith and religion, and I demand that you respect my right to seek proof rather than faith. I then asked the same question to my sainted mother, my pastor, my teacher, a smart white man, and my Jewish mentor. My question was this: If we were created in the image of god, why is it that we so closely resemble monkeys and apes?

My mother asked me, Son, what have you been reading, and where are you getting these ideas from? Then her face clouded up, and she looked like she was about to cry. I asked my black pastor and teacher the question, and they both started shaking like a dog expelling persimmon seeds, clouded up, and they looked as if they were about to cry. I then asked a white man the question, and he was in total denial and said, I don’t look like a damn monkey! I then reminded him that if he removed his clothes and looked in a full-length mirror, he would be looking at a white-skinned, blue-eyed blond ape.

As I said, I would have to hurt you in order to help you, so keep reading, and I promise you that in the end you will crack up laughing.

My dearly departed sainted mother would say to me, Son, you are telling me a story, and I have to give you a whipping. She would never call it a lie because of her training as a schoolteacher and a church first lady, so I came to believe that there was no difference in a story and a lie. So the Bible is either the greatest story ever told or the biggest lie ever told.

This puzzled me, so I decided to ask my wise old Jewish mentor to clear it up for me. Now understand that I have had three wise Jewish mentors, and I know nothing about Judaism, but I have learned to love the Jewish people and their culture. After being spoon-fed all those Jewish books, I knew more about the Holocaust than most Jews my age. I knew where all the concentration camps in Poland and Germany were—also the name of all their commandants. I knew who Dr. Mengele (Dr. Death) and Adolf Eichmann were and the names of all of Hitler’s inner circle. With this in mind at the age of fourteen, I asked my Jewish mentor about two of the lies in the Old Testament. I’ve found many lies in the Bible. (Stop crying now. Dry your eyes and blow your nose, in that order. Don’t blow your nose first and then wipe your eyes.)

And here was his answer: Son, the Bible was written seven thousand years ago by my people for my people. We wrote it in Hebrew and had no idea you people would someday read it. We had no idea that a printing press would be invented and a billion copies would be printed in thousands of countries. We were coming out of slavery in your country where, like you, we worshipped many gods. We had gods named Baylor and Blalock. We carved gods out of wood as well as gold. Just as black people worshipped the slave master’s Jesus coming out of their slavery, we had begun worshipping some of the Pharaoh’s gods in Egypt. We were telling our story with our spin, and naturally, we said Jews were God’s chosen children. You didn’t expect us to say you black folk down in Africa were his chosen children. Now the—in Europe put their spin on our book and called it the King James Version. The Mormons put their spin on our book and called it the Book of Mormons, etc. He then said, If you object to our spin, then write your own book and put your own spin to it.

So here goes nothing.

Civilization and the History of My People

To begin my story, I start a search for the beginning. In order to find any beginning, I simply go to the end, and the beginning has to mathematically be 160 degrees in the posit direction. However, if no end can be found, then it stands to reason that there is no beginning. So we reach the conclusion that it always has been thus and needed no creator. Now dry your eyes and stop crying, and I will explain how we all came about.

A trillion years ago, the entire universe was covered with ice. As our planet rotated around the sun, it slowly became closer to the sun, and the ice began to melt. The area that began to melt first was the African tropics, and a shallow sea formed that is now called the Great Rift Valley. It is here that the scientists all received grants to go and study first man. These names include Dr. Leaky, Dr. Livingstone, and the renowned Dr. Johansson of Sweden. He is the one given credit for discovering the missing link and naming the creature Lucy.

Now back to my beginnings. After another trillion years, the first life appeared in this shallow sea. We can debate the type of life, but that’s not important. The important thing is that water, air, and sun (heat) combined to produce life. Eventually, an ancient fish developed a prehistoric lung and was named a Selacon. Having a lung, he was able to live in and out of water. As an amphibian, all land creatures evolved from him. Out of the category of fish, fowl, or animal, I fell under the heading of animal. Not having the speed of the leopard or the power of the lion, I survived by climbing to the treetops. My paw developed the dexterity to grasp tree limbs, and my elongated tail helped me to climb and swing. I ate leaves and fruit, and after eons of time, I grew big and strong enough to venture down from the treetops.

To prove what happened next, Dr. Johansson went to Africa and made the adjustment that this primate made without tools or shelter. I was now walking upright. I spent the nights in the trees for safety, and in daylight, I ventured down seeking food and water. My mind began to develop, and I noticed that all the predators were afraid of fire. I knew that if I could harness fire, I could use it as a tool. I dragged fire embers to the opening of a cave, and no longer did I return to the trees. I then started eating meat, and my mind and body grew larger and stronger, and having no use for a tail, I lost most of it. I am reminded that I once had a tail by the tailbone at the end of my spine today. To obtain this meat that I now craved, I would watch the cheetah and the leopard drag a kill into the trees and steal the carcass as they left to drink from the river. Now with a roof over my head and a food source, I had the time to invent things. By striking a bone with a stone, I could get at the bone marrow inside. If the stone shattered, I had a cutting edge to cut meat. If I attached a stick to the cutting edge, I had a knife. If I attached a longer stick, I then had a spear and could now hunt larger game by throwing the spear.

With each invention, I had more time to spend in the cave, and I started drawing pictures of the creatures that I saw on the plains of Mother Africa. I had invented art and music, and soon architecture was to follow. My people first built two pyramids in sub-Saharan Africa, but they both fell because of lack of engineering skill to begin with, as this knowledge and technology moved from south to north.

Now dry your eyes and stop crying, and I promise to have you laughing for the rest of my story. After inventing the stone-edge spear, my family could now hunt the largest animals on the African plains. The mighty lion would now turn and run from the head hunters of the earth. As the head hunters on earth, we were now referred to as the HNIC (Head Niggers In Charge). Smile! We now left the caves and built houses of thatched straw. My people now developed tribes and villages. We now stood five feet tall and weighed 150 pounds, and our brains had enlarged to the point of beginning to reason. We arrived at the point of governing ourselves with the first true monarchy. We agreed on a king and a queen. We worshipped our king because he had the power of life and death. There was no need for jails or prison. The king would simply order your hand or head chopped off. We had many lesser gods, but if you were found worshipping them, then off went your head. We ventured as far north as what is now the country of Benin. Our nearest neighbor and greatest enemy was the country of what is now Nigeria. We fought those (sumbitches) with sticks and stones, knives, and bows and arrows for fifteen thousand years and held our own until they became an exporter of oil and developed a modern army that finally defeated us.

Our most celebrated king was Oba Ewuare the Great. He ruled our country from 1444 until 1473 and is credited for building the capital city of Benin.

In 1965, I owned a juke joint in Los Angeles, California, and an African student in quest for his PhD from UCLA walked in and looked at my facial features and gave me my background in African history. His African name was unpronounceable in English, so everyone called him Uncle Larie. He became a Hollywood actor and ran around with the Frank Sinatra rat pack. He made a fortune in translating movies to African countries. While in Texas, I was notified that he had drank himself to death and was found dead in his Cadillac. He gave me my background in oral history (which his father had given him), but from 1700 onward, my history is documented.

In 1700, it was the practice of the Nigerians to sell their captured enemies to the goat-eating, camel-riding Arabs, who would force-walk them cross country to the Portuguese slave ships. Mother Africa had protected the interior of Africa with a mosquito and a malaria-carrying fly so non-Africans could not come inland. I was asked once if I hated the white man, and my answer was not nearly as much as I hate those Nigerians and those goat-eating, camel-riding Arabs. You would have to study African history and understand that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

My ancestor arrived at a Virginia boat dock in 1700, and I was purchased by a plantation owner in Locustville, Virginia, by the name of Lewis. He remained there until 1740 whereas he committed suicide because of an illness that was then called melancholy (and we now call depression). We were inherited by his son who was named Meriwether Lewis of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. His plantation was next to Thomas Jefferson’s plantation, and he was given the nod to map the west. After returning from the expedition, Lewis had a slave that kept asking for his freedom, and there are two letters in the archives where Lewis told Jefferson of having to beat this uppity slave named York for asking for his freedom. This slave was my relative five times removed.

In 1806, Jefferson was out of office. Lewis was broke and a million dollars in debt and, like his father, decided to kill himself. He first offered a bag of gold coins to his slaves to kill him, but they ran to the woods and hid. He then took two pistols and two knives and sat under a tree. His first shot bounced off his head and knocked him out. His next shot went into his chest but still did not kill him, so he proceeded to stab himself until he died.

In 1820, Missouri joined the Union as a slave state, and we were force-walked from Virginia to Hannibal, Missouri, and were owned by a slave owner named Wiley. The State of Missouri never quite made it as a slave state because of an early fall freeze hitting cotton and tobacco, which did not fare well there. In 1865, the Civil War ended, and we were free. The only business the Wileys knew was how to raise cotton and tobacco and holy hell, so we headed south in uncovered wagons. We were like black Gypsies, and we had to survive any way we could. We were in search of land to sharecrop cotton, but we found trouble in every state we went to with stealing, fighting, and killings. We were in the process of becoming civilized Christians, but only one of us could read and write. He was a preacher, and having heard of a school in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, that was to teach children of freed slaves to read and write, he led us there. The school was named Old Branch Normal for the first fifty years then Ark. am@n and is now the University of Arkansas. AT Pine Bluff (uapb)

This ends my story because my family says, Shut the hell up because the statute of limitations never closed on who killed all those black and white people!

We are seeking a major publisher to publish and promote this book!

Heathen’s Heaven

(Remembering Little Johnny Taylor)

Everyone should have a heaven of their own, including heathens. Now a heathen has no interest in Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Baylor, or Baylock. Nor does a heathen give a rat’s behind about Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John—he develops heroes of his own. My heroes were superstars from the past.

I fell asleep and dreamed that I was in Heathen Heaven. There was a big concert going on, and all my superstars were there. You had to stand in line because the tickets were going fast. I started walking around my heaven because I could not sit down. The Barcays were there getting ready to play. I saw Otis Redding singing Sitting by the Dock of the Bay Wasting Time. Sam Cook was there singing A Change Is Gonna Come. Backstage, I saw Elvis singing Blue Suede Shoes. Jimmy Hendrix was there tuning up his guitar—superstars from my past. Junior Walker was there, and everyone jumped to their feet when Z. Z. Hill played those Down Home Blues. Jackie Wilson sang Lonely Teardrops, and I knew that I was in heaven.

It started raining, and the people just stayed there. I didn’t want to wake up because I was having so much fun. I saw Earl sitting with Mahalia, and Lightning Hopkins just looked on. The people stood and cheered when Marvin Gaye sang Let’s Get It On. I got two lovers, and I’m not ashamed, Sweet Mary sang. King Curtis blew Soul Serenade. I thought I saw Lady Day there sitting in the shade. Pearl Baylie was there, and Count was there. It was getting kind of late and almost time to go, but I didn’t want to wake up. I was in Heathen Haven. Donny Hathaway was there. Tears of joy filled my eyes as Percy Mayfield took the stage and sang Please Send Me Someone to Love. He was followed by big Joe Turner singing Chains of Love. Next on stage was Little Johnny Taylor singing You’re One in a Million, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Johnny Otis talking to little Ester Phillips.

I saw Ray Charles without his dark glasses, and I knew that I was in paradise. I never wanted to wake up because I was having such a good time. Howling Wolf sang Little Red Rooster, and he was followed by John Lee Hooker singing Did You Ever Hear About the Burning, Way Down in Nachave Town. Jimmy Reed closed the show with his Big Boss Man, and I finally woke up to find myself still among the living with Christians, Muslims, and Jews.

Dirty Red (The Heathen)

PART 1

CRISIS IN HEAVEN

God was highly frustrated this day in heaven, so he decided to call down to hell and talk to Satan. The devil was busy as all get-out, but finally, they put him on the phone.

God said to the Devil, "Satan, I got a problem up here in heaven, and I need your help. Now some way and somehow, we got some black folks in heaven that just don’t belong up here,