anchored
06-09-2007, 06:59 PM
Hey Tone, since we are in this thread, "Memories of the Foundation," do you remember the following?? If not, let me refresh your wrinkled old memory a tad.
Mike B, Fermin M, and I were ferverishly trying to finish up the big curb around the Davenport Rd. mansion that we had been struggling with for weeks using scraps of splintered plywood and other unsuitable mickey mouse materials and nothing but trashy equipment at our disposal.
The sun was relentlessly beating down and we were sweating our brains out, thirsty, tired and frustrated as we were struggling with this unusually difficult task and wishing that maybe Tony or Sue would find it in their hearts to at least bring out a refreshing drink of water, lemonade, a soda or even some kool-aid, any bit of nourishment from inside their air-conditioned comfortable mansion that we, the brothers, had just erected for them to live out their lavish lifestyle.
We were at the point of desperation and frustration looking all around for anything that might work for forms as we kept trying one thing after another and experimenting with junk.
Much to our amazement, instead of coming out with any cold refreshment, Tony Alamo suddenly came flying out the back door of that air-conditioned mansion in a screaming rage and threw a big tantrum right in front of all three of us. Screaming to the top of his lungs he said, "What's taking you so long to get this curb done? I could have had this done weeks ago. YOU PEOPLE are just holding up the Lord's work here." As he was screaming like a little girl, he picked up this old piece of raggedy plywood and slammed it down into the form foundation. Then, in a flippant rage, he turned around and went back into his nice cool air-conditioned comfort zone, back into the comforts of his nice new mansion that we had just built for them, slamming the door behind him.
The three of us looked at one another in amazement not believing what we had just seen and heard. I thought right then, what a hypocrite. I've never seen anyone act like that in my whole life, especially someone claiming to be a "pastor."
After about 10 minutes went by, Susie came out with her little Tony. Tony's pouting face, looking down towards the ground, had gathered much blackness and he couldn't even look us in the eyes. Sue said, "now Tony, apologize to the brothers for the way you acted." He said in this little wimpy voice, "I'm sorry." He still didn't look directly at us. I knew he didn't mean it and it was only because Sue made him say it, that he even said it. I can tell when someone is really sorry and, he wasn't.
Tony, I know you would have never apologized on your own. But you, being Susie's house pig at the time, you knew you'd better do what you were told. Maybe that's why you treat women the way you do today. It's a revenge thing. None of the women who you married who were adults stayed with you and put up with your nonsense for very long. The only ones you can control are the young underage teenagers and under that you can manipulate and rape and subjugate.
Mike B, Fermin M, and I were ferverishly trying to finish up the big curb around the Davenport Rd. mansion that we had been struggling with for weeks using scraps of splintered plywood and other unsuitable mickey mouse materials and nothing but trashy equipment at our disposal.
The sun was relentlessly beating down and we were sweating our brains out, thirsty, tired and frustrated as we were struggling with this unusually difficult task and wishing that maybe Tony or Sue would find it in their hearts to at least bring out a refreshing drink of water, lemonade, a soda or even some kool-aid, any bit of nourishment from inside their air-conditioned comfortable mansion that we, the brothers, had just erected for them to live out their lavish lifestyle.
We were at the point of desperation and frustration looking all around for anything that might work for forms as we kept trying one thing after another and experimenting with junk.
Much to our amazement, instead of coming out with any cold refreshment, Tony Alamo suddenly came flying out the back door of that air-conditioned mansion in a screaming rage and threw a big tantrum right in front of all three of us. Screaming to the top of his lungs he said, "What's taking you so long to get this curb done? I could have had this done weeks ago. YOU PEOPLE are just holding up the Lord's work here." As he was screaming like a little girl, he picked up this old piece of raggedy plywood and slammed it down into the form foundation. Then, in a flippant rage, he turned around and went back into his nice cool air-conditioned comfort zone, back into the comforts of his nice new mansion that we had just built for them, slamming the door behind him.
The three of us looked at one another in amazement not believing what we had just seen and heard. I thought right then, what a hypocrite. I've never seen anyone act like that in my whole life, especially someone claiming to be a "pastor."
After about 10 minutes went by, Susie came out with her little Tony. Tony's pouting face, looking down towards the ground, had gathered much blackness and he couldn't even look us in the eyes. Sue said, "now Tony, apologize to the brothers for the way you acted." He said in this little wimpy voice, "I'm sorry." He still didn't look directly at us. I knew he didn't mean it and it was only because Sue made him say it, that he even said it. I can tell when someone is really sorry and, he wasn't.
Tony, I know you would have never apologized on your own. But you, being Susie's house pig at the time, you knew you'd better do what you were told. Maybe that's why you treat women the way you do today. It's a revenge thing. None of the women who you married who were adults stayed with you and put up with your nonsense for very long. The only ones you can control are the young underage teenagers and under that you can manipulate and rape and subjugate.