So the Mormons are streaming out of the Conference Center, heading for lunch. Thousands of folks passing right by you. And what do you preach? Well, if you are one of the members of the Street Screeching Cult, you preach about…King James White, of course! Oh, and you have some poor deluded soul smile while wearing a bald cap and yell out, “I love Gail Kiplinger!” (it’s Riplinger). I’ll never forget turning around and seeing that these men had taken the time to produce signs about me, and then to listen to them making fools of themselves in front of the Mormons proved, once and for all, that whatever else you call these guys, “preacher” is a title far too high, far too noble, for whatever it is they do.

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