What Ricky knew from being raised in an area where
these revival meetings thrived, was that the people in these
regions had work to do. Whether it was farming, running a store or
working in a factory, they couldn’t just take off with little or no
warning to get closer to God. Besides being the Sabbath, this was
why the Sunday sermon was the best attended. People had time to
rearrange their schedules and plan ahead.
But, Ricky told himself, if these same people had
more than a day or two of warning, like a week or two in which they
were bombarded by constant reminders of the upcoming show, they
would be more apt to put in an appearance for multiple meetings.
And this meant the plate would be passed to more of the flock more
times.
In 1994, armed with a computer, a printer and the
idea that he could increase the profitability of any tent revival
meeting, Richard approached three preachers working the same
circuit a few weeks apart. After pitching his idea, he got all
three to give him a chance. His idea ended up being so successful
that by the following year, he'd contracted with twenty-two
different travelling revival meetings to provide all their
promotional needs. Expanding on his original idea to blanket an
area with flyers two weeks before his client hit town, he turned
his attention to the religious radio stations in the targeted
vicinity and started getting himself booked on talk and morning
shows to promote his patrons. Here he found he could spout the fire
and brimstone just as well as, or better than, anyone he
represented. He even toyed with the idea of hitting the circuit
himself but abandoned the plan when he realized how glutted the
market was. It was better to continue profiting a little from each
of the charlatans than risking it all by putting on a show
himself.
But still, over the years, as he watched the power
these preachers wielded, Richard craved what they had.
When the first cases of the HWNW virus were reported
on the news, Richard saw his clients jump on the story and start
calling it God’s retribution for our sins. They had been spouting
the same line for years about AIDS, herpes and the clap, but a
little fear went a long way to convincing the masses of divine
retribution and opening their wallets and purses in the hopes they
could buy themselves into heaven.
Although profits rose, Richard wasn't going to let
business get in the way of his much needed vacation. Leaving things
in the capable hands of his personal assistant, Rosencrantz, Inc.
now had eight full time employees, he embarked on his planned
vacation with a redhead named Sheila, who he met in a dive bar in
Tennessee, secure in the knowledge that the additional money coming
in, due to the latest virus spreading across the world, would be
waiting for him when he returned.
After two days of sex, sun and self-indulgence,
Richard woke on the third day to a knock at his cabin door.
Answering it, he found one of the ship’s officers standing
nervously in the passageway. The man explained that, because of
some mechanical difficulties, temporary difficulties he stressed,
all passengers needed to remain in their cabins until further
notice.
Suspicious of the explanation and the jittery
demeanor of the officer, Richard nonetheless agreed to remain in
his room. As soon as the officer moved on though, he dressed
quickly, grabbed his camera, and after making sure that the coast
was clear, slipped out of his cabin. He’d heard horror stories of
people on cruises being stuck at sea for days when their ship broke
down, and if this was a similar case, he wanted pictures to back up
the lawsuit he would slap the Cayman Cruise Lines with.
Looking for anything suspicious and keeping his nose
open for the smell of backed up sewage, since this seemed to be one
of the most reported causes of a cruise being disrupted, Richard
hadn't gone far when he heard the sounds of cursing and fighting
coming from a hallway ahead. Rushing forward, he found himself
these revival meetings thrived, was that the people in these
regions had work to do. Whether it was farming, running a store or
working in a factory, they couldn’t just take off with little or no
warning to get closer to God. Besides being the Sabbath, this was
why the Sunday sermon was the best attended. People had time to
rearrange their schedules and plan ahead.
But, Ricky told himself, if these same people had
more than a day or two of warning, like a week or two in which they
were bombarded by constant reminders of the upcoming show, they
would be more apt to put in an appearance for multiple meetings.
And this meant the plate would be passed to more of the flock more
times.
In 1994, armed with a computer, a printer and the
idea that he could increase the profitability of any tent revival
meeting, Richard approached three preachers working the same
circuit a few weeks apart. After pitching his idea, he got all
three to give him a chance. His idea ended up being so successful
that by the following year, he'd contracted with twenty-two
different travelling revival meetings to provide all their
promotional needs. Expanding on his original idea to blanket an
area with flyers two weeks before his client hit town, he turned
his attention to the religious radio stations in the targeted
vicinity and started getting himself booked on talk and morning
shows to promote his patrons. Here he found he could spout the fire
and brimstone just as well as, or better than, anyone he
represented. He even toyed with the idea of hitting the circuit
himself but abandoned the plan when he realized how glutted the
market was. It was better to continue profiting a little from each
of the charlatans than risking it all by putting on a show
himself.
But still, over the years, as he watched the power
these preachers wielded, Richard craved what they had.
When the first cases of the HWNW virus were reported
on the news, Richard saw his clients jump on the story and start
calling it God’s retribution for our sins. They had been spouting
the same line for years about AIDS, herpes and the clap, but a
little fear went a long way to convincing the masses of divine
retribution and opening their wallets and purses in the hopes they
could buy themselves into heaven.
Although profits rose, Richard wasn't going to let
business get in the way of his much needed vacation. Leaving things
in the capable hands of his personal assistant, Rosencrantz, Inc.
now had eight full time employees, he embarked on his planned
vacation with a redhead named Sheila, who he met in a dive bar in
Tennessee, secure in the knowledge that the additional money coming
in, due to the latest virus spreading across the world, would be
waiting for him when he returned.
After two days of sex, sun and self-indulgence,
Richard woke on the third day to a knock at his cabin door.
Answering it, he found one of the ship’s officers standing
nervously in the passageway. The man explained that, because of
some mechanical difficulties, temporary difficulties he stressed,
all passengers needed to remain in their cabins until further
notice.
Suspicious of the explanation and the jittery
demeanor of the officer, Richard nonetheless agreed to remain in
his room. As soon as the officer moved on though, he dressed
quickly, grabbed his camera, and after making sure that the coast
was clear, slipped out of his cabin. He’d heard horror stories of
people on cruises being stuck at sea for days when their ship broke
down, and if this was a similar case, he wanted pictures to back up
the lawsuit he would slap the Cayman Cruise Lines with.
Looking for anything suspicious and keeping his nose
open for the smell of backed up sewage, since this seemed to be one
of the most reported causes of a cruise being disrupted, Richard
hadn't gone far when he heard the sounds of cursing and fighting
coming from a hallway ahead. Rushing forward, he found himself
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