My Spiritual Revelations And Other BS
By Brother Bob
About The Book and Excerpts
My Spiritual Revelations and other BS was written by Bobby Ferrando, aka Brother Bob. Bobby owned Food for Thought restaurant in Washington, DC for 26 years. From 1973 to 1999 Food for Thought was a hangout for DC’s changing alternative scene; from the vegetarian hippies, to the Vietnam era protest marchers, to the early DC punks, to the GLBTQ community, with always a hopeful musician on stage entertaining for tips, including Mary Chapin Carpenter. Bobby has now joined his son, Black Cat club owner Dante Ferrando, at Black Cat managing the club's Food for Thought Cafe.
In the book Bobby relates several loosely autobiographical experiences that have lead him to his simple philosophy of love. His irreverent thoughts on religion, god, faith, prayer and the bible express his non-traditional point of view. After closing his restaurant, Bobby toyed with the idea of writing a book, but until easy internet publishing became available, the book was only a thought. Now with the tools and services online, anyone can self publish their book.
Gary Null, a natural health advocate conducted an experiment on prayers. If I remember correctly, he asked respected elders from four different religions to pray over some bean sprouts. In all four cases the sprouts that were prayed over grew considerably faster than a control group of sprouts. If you have heard of Gary you would know that he is meticulous in his attention to accuracy. Apparently something in the attitude of those praying had a positive effect. Plants don’t lie. But I still don’t pray. If I did, I would only be thinking in the back of my mind about the poor sprouts that God ignored because I was praying for the competition.
The First Time p. 21
On the first Friday of each month, there was a special mass before school in the morning with the required fast from midnight the night before. This mass seemed to have longer periods of kneeling than Sunday mass, but this was probably not the case. It only seemed that way, because what came after mass was what made “First Friday” worth it. There was a table piled with box after box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and crates of individual cartons of chocolate milk. For a ten-year-old, there was no better high than all that sugar and a little caffeine on an empty stomach right after swallowing God.