Franken-Lies-And-the-Lying-Liars-Who-Tell

And let me tell you, it's a lot of sacred art: Botticelli, Granacci, Tintoretto, Dolci,
Rembrandt, Ribera, Rubens, Van Dyck. Twenty-seven rooms full. A priceless collection.
Donated by wealthy alums? Not quite. Most of it was purchased by Bob Jones, Jr., himself,
the second of the three Bob Joneses.
You see, Dr. Bob II had spent some summers in the 1930s as a tour guide in Rome,
Paris, and Vienna, and had acquired a taste for fine art. Luckily, when he returned to Europe
in the late forties, he was able acquire quite a bit of it at very reasonable prices. Hmmm, I
thought. What do you suppose would be the chances of a white supremacist who came to
Europe in the thirties knowing someone who knew someone who had recently come across
some "misplaced" art in the late 1940s? In fact, I thought I recognized a couple pieces that
used to belong to my grandfather, who was a big collector of sacred Christian art before he
was hauled off to Buchenwald. Nah. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions.
Still with some time to kill, we decided to hop on the three o'clock tour with a delightful
Christian family of four. We had a lovely time, even had some laughs, until we got to the
theater, where our bluff was finally called. On the stage were several gigantic crosses, scenery
for what they call "The Living Gallery" This involves recreating great works of sacred art
using real people in tableaux. I was very excited about getting Andrew to take a picture of me
hanging from one of the crosses. Then we met R.J. From the public liaison's office.
"I'll take them from here," R.J. told our tour guide. We didn't like the way he said that.
Nor the way he said, "Let me tell you a little about the theater. The floor is from Rockefeller
Center. But it's no Saturday Night Live. "
The jig was up.
"Can I just ask what you're down here looking for?" he inquired pointedly.
"Well, it's a long story," I said, willing, but not really eager, to go into the whole boating-accident-depression-salvation-boxes-of-blood
thing again.
"Uh-huh. Look. We've had enough of being made fun of," R.J. said with more than a
touch of bitterness. Then turning to Andrew, he added, "I hope this isn't awkward for you."
"Oh no," said Andrew cheerfully. "We've been getting this all day." Actually, we
hadn't. But I thought it was a nice touch.
R.J. continued. "If you're legit, I'd be happy to show you anything you want to see.
But we're not going to put our heads on the chopping block again." I had to admire his direct-