I vaguely recall a story about some kid and his coat of many colors. Or is that a rock opera I’m remembering? Whatever. My pal Benny Hinn has a jacket that puts that shmata to shame.
Here’s Benny in action with it —
As Benny himself knows, there ain’t no such thing as magic. There is bamboozlement however. And, as Benny and his jacket do remarkably well, they bamboozle people right off their feet. Can I tell ya? This here deity loves him some Benny Hinn!
But, unfortunately for Benny, this deity can’t keep a secret to save his eternal life.
It IS Benny’s jacket that’s knocking em flat but not because “magic”. Benny hasn’t washed it in a while — and the guy sweats more than a little (shoveling bullshit with two hands is hard work, Pilgrim!) Pig farms, rotten egg factories and sewers have all called to complain. That jacket smells!
But, Benny’s a not just a good performer, he’s a great one (it’s why I love the guy). He takes no chances. So, in addition to the jacket’s jaw-dropping stink, Benny went for broke by adding a little somethin’-somethin’ to one of the pockets: his soul.
Lemme tell ya, Pilgrim — that stink could knock even a deity off his perfectly pedicured feet.
Benny Hinn is a genius unto himself. Disagree and he’ll hit you with his jacket. Or I’ll hit you with mine.