Holy Book Sales

Norm and Flannery Knew

Roy Blount Jr

Sep 30, 2024

"Just Mix Coca Cola With Vaseline,” the Internet tells me, “and You Will Be Amazed!"

But I don't want to be amazed. I'm already amazed.

Not in a good way!

You know what Norm McDonald said about Hitler:

"The more I hear about that guy, the more I don't care for him."

Everybody has heard lots and lots and lots about Donald Trump (on the Internet), yet half of us apparently still like him. They're going to vote for him. For President.

Although he is a man who sells Bibles. Along with gold sneakers, watches and heroic trading cards of himself. To raise money to pay his legal bills, which have piled up on account of his stealing classified documents, attempting to defy democracy and imposing himself on women -- but you know all this.

Even Trump voters must heard something about it.

But has it really sunk in that he's a Bible salesman?

Plays one on TV. "Every American should have a Bible in their home," he says, "and I have . . . many." (That pause before "many" is him thinking he’ll count 'em all up but then realizing nobody expects a person in his position to keep track of the exact number of Bibles in his home.) "It's my favorite book," he goes on. "A lot of people's favorite book." He uses that expression a lot, "a lot of people." He is not alone in this world. For the latest generation of possible voters, he has always been around, lowering America’s political tone.

I shouldn’t say this, but maybe people who like Donald Trump haven't read much literature. In literature, Bible salesmen don't show up as trustworthy.

In Flannery O'Connor's story "Good Country People," a passing Bible salesman falsely wins the consciously very differing trusts of two women, mother and daughter.

The Bible salesman isn't trustworthy, but the women aren't either, and they don't even realize it. The daughter has a wooden leg and a PhD in philosophy. She is the type of person who would not even apologize about suggesting that people who like Donald Trump haven’t read much literature. She has gone so thoroughly sour (she thinks), she’s changed her name from Joy to Hulga. She decides to take advantage of the salesman's apparent innocence. (His socks keep being partly swallowed by his shoes.) Turns out she's the innocent one.

More than that going on. Religious stuff. O’Connor was more Catholic than our Supreme Court.

But to make a short-story masterpiece even shorter: the Bible salesman plants kisses on Hulga's face, in a way that sounds like the way Trump might do it ("making little noises like a fish"), and steals her leg and goes off with it who knows where, leaving her stuck in a hayloft.

Hulga is amazed. As he goes, she asks him: "Aren't you just good country people?" (This phrase has been bandied about, with different shades of irony, leading up to this evil point.)

"Yeah," the Bible salesman says, "but it ain't held me back none."

Tough story. You can't say they don't get to know each other better. But only the salesman knows what to make of it.