A flight attendant's smackdown with the wife of mega-preacher Joel Osteen inspires a whole new set of commandments.
Today Denver, tomorrow the Twin Cities.
The provocateur who brought you "Piss Christ" pinches off a new concept.
According to Mark Potok, director of the Southern Poverty Law Center's Intelligence Project, the National Socialist Movement is the largest neo-Nazi group operating in the country, with 81 chapters, including a group in Kansas City, Kansas. The local National Socialist Movement chapter made headlines in May 2005 when it held a meeting at the Berliner Bear, a German restaurant in Waldo that has since closed. The Knights of the Ku Klux Klan regained most of its notoriety back in the late 1980s and early 1990s when founding member David Duke ran twice for president. Today, they're in paltry eighth place, out of 34 Klan organizations, with six chapters, none of which are in Kansas or Missouri. They're headed by an Arkansas preacher named Thomas Robb, who believes that Eve was impregnated by the serpent and gave birth to "the Jewish race."
So in January, I assumed an alias — Bobby Rudd — and signed up for the Klan. I sent the required $30 on March 8 to the address listed on a flier stuffed in a copy of the Pitch in January. My membership card, newsletter and orientation DVD arrived later that month.
I played the DVD, expecting to see burning crosses and maybe some hellfire and brimstone about mixed races from a white-robed preacher with a Southern accent. Instead, it was a four-hour home movie about the group's Arkansas headquarters and campgrounds. Robb came on occasionally to say that he hoped I would join the Klan for the right reason: to form a viable Christian political party dedicated to helping the poor, downtrodden white man. Robb cautioned that the group does not condone violence. He also gave a series of tips about KKK affiliation, including a warning to keep it from friends and co-workers unless they could absolutely be trusted.
My membership in the Knights Party allowed me to access its Web site, including the member chat room. In April, I signed up with the screen name "baldeaglejesus." I hoped to find a contact in the vast white-supremacist movement implied by the fliers.
I began exchanging e-mails with another local member, called Turk. I never got his last name, but when I told him in my first e-mail that I was new to the metro, he sent me a guide to Kansas City.
Actually there's lots of great things to do here in KC. The downtown area has lots of high-class events that are attended largely by whites, such as the ballet, the Lyric Opera and the Quality Hill Playhouse. My favorite area is Westport, which is a largely Irish community and has lots of places to eat, drink and be merry. There may be heathen and aliens in some of the clubs, but on the whole they are well-kept by bouncers and the KCPD patrol the area well on weekends. Lee's Summit has less to offer but is also a predominantly white area. A word of caution: its lakes are becoming increasingly polluted by heathen and aliens, so travel at risk.
The Swope Park area (the Zoo, Starlight Theatre) is overrun by heathen and aliens, be careful there.
Outside of the area, Weston is a great white community with a wine garden and excellent Irish pub. Overland Park in Kansas is a nice area, only it was built by Jews, who welcome heathen and aliens, so again be cautious. Traveling down the I-70E, Columbia is a nice town but being infested by heathen and aliens. St. Louis is lots of fun but infested even worse than Columbia.
And, if you're overly allergic to heathen and aliens, avoid the casinos everywhere, they're breeding grounds.
So when he called me a month later to ask if I wanted to go grab a beer, it was no surprise that he asked to meet in Westport. Sunday was his free day, though he had to reschedule his Bible study group. We agreed to have lunch that afternoon at Chili's. Turk said he would wear a black hat and a black shirt with an iron cross. I arrived half an hour early for our 2 p.m. meeting.
The hostess took me to a booth behind two distinguished-looking black women. I asked if she could move me. She tried a booth next to a Hispanic family.
"If it's possible, could I get that seat in the back?" I asked. It seemed better to avoid anyone overhearing us, and I wanted a spot where I could watch the door.
Forty minutes, one nacho platter and four Cokes later, Turk called my name from over my left shoulder. He must've come in from a side entrance I didn't know about. It wasn't until then that I realized how wired I was; I had to suppress the urge to throw my drink in the direction of the voice.
