The rantings of Garner Ted Armstrong on the American Negro. Those of his generation surely had another view that reaches back to a time within the deep South.
Dear Friends and Brethren,
“GARNER TED ARMSTRONG IN PERSON!” announces the poorly mounted sign outside a glittery suburban hotel ballroom with fancy plastic chandeliers. Ted, shown in profile with a microphone in hand, is proclaiming the end-time gospel with planet Earth spinning out of control behind his hoary head. This affirmation that something really, really important is about to happen in a city that prides itself as a regional entertainment capital goes largely unnoticed in the empty hotel lobby. For on this hot August Sabbath day, the majority of the modern Romans are next door on carnal rides for the masses at Six Flags amusement park instead of attending this spiritual amusement ride for the elect.