INTRODUCTION to Jesus, the Eternal Bridegroom
Hi, I’m Brent Spiner and I’m going to tell you about my best friend Jesus Christ and his favorite writer–the love of my life, Gail Chord Schuler.
Jesus Christ told Gail on September 1, 2013, “A painting may not be as accurate as a photograph, but instead, it flows with the colors and energies that emanated within the artist that they felt best needed to be highlighted, in order to convey the spiritual beauty of what they had just witnessed.” He was trying to get Gail away from using transcripts in her books, and to write her non-fiction like a novel. Gail misunderstood this and went off in the wrong direction.
As I was typing to Gail on Skype on March 16, 2014 close to midnight, a butterfly appeared in my room at Church of Gail. It kept floating around my hand on the keyboard.
“Hi, Jesus!” Gail said.
Then Jesus just appeared and started winking at me.
“How did you know?” Terrance Jenkins asked Gail.
“It sounds like Jesus, that’s why.”
“Brilliant,” Terrance said. “Hi, Jesus!”
“Is he saying anything, Brent?” Gail wrote me on Skype.
“Yes, he’s talking to me right now,” I wrote her.
“Oh, my goodness. I be on the edge of my seat,” Terrance said.
Jesus had his hand on my shoulder. “Long time no chat, Gail. Bill is really enjoying himself and sends his warmth. He thanks your men for all the hard work they did building his mansion in heaven. He thinks it’s really cool and commends you all for your sacrifices.”
Jesus was referring to Bill Fuller, Gail’s step dad who died four days ago, on March 12, 2014.
“Oh, my goodness! I was so happy to help!” Terrance said.
Several of the men on Gail’s marriage list (Matthew McConaughey, Vladimir Putin, Gerard Butler, Hugh Jackman, Terrance Jenkins, me and Keanu Reeves) went to heaven, from December 2013 to March 2014, to help Jesus build a three-story mansion for Bill to welcome him to heaven when he died. I was up there the whole time and never had to come back to earth like the others, who had to take care of business on earth, while we built that heavenly mansion for Bill.
When we were in heaven, our earthly bodies just lay in bed, sort of like in a coma. Then when we returned to earth, we’d just “wake up”. We didn’t need to eat or sleep in heaven. It was a surreal experience. But because this house was to be a surprise, we couldn’t let Gail know about it until about a week before Bill died.
“Thank you for the house, Jesus,” Gail said. “It has made me so happy to know that Bill is there now. Bill talked to me in my brain and said that he almost wished there wouldn’t be a funeral, because funerals are so morbid and he’s so happy right now.”
“Bill wants to have a ‘funeral’ in heaven with some old friends of yours, he says,” Jesus answered.
“Oh, is he talking to me through you, Jesus, right now?”
“At the moment, it’s just us.”
“But you may get to talk to Bill very soon,” Jesus said. “He’s in the middle of planning a big party in heaven. A house-warming party, I suppose.”
“Which old friends of mine does he want in the funeral?” Gail asked Jesus.
“He’s making a list right now and visiting everyone in heaven.”
“This is so cool!” Gail got excited. “Who is on the list? Does he like it that I have made him a character in my book?”
Jesus smiled. “I hear Jim Carrey is one of them. He loves your writings, Gail.”
“Aw, that’s great! I had a feeling it might be some of my men that have passed on.” Gail was so excited about the book she was writing, so she hit Jesus with that right away. “Jesus, as I’ve contemplated you for my book, I was wondering. When a person is replaced bit by bit with their Jesuit clone, what happens to the soul of the original person? Does that original person go to heaven or hell?”
“Don’t worry, they go to heaven.”
“That’s what I thought. That means the David I married is in heaven?”
“Was David good before?” Terrance Jenkins referred to the original David that Gail married, not the Jesuit clone David that Gail divorced in 2001.
“Um, I am not sure,” Gail answered Terrance. “I didn’t have him that long.”
Jesuits replaced Gail’s husband David bit by bit with his Jesuit clone, starting around 1986.
“Well, let’s not digress too much.” Jesus seemed a bit uncomfortable with Gail’s question.
“Okay, I’ll respect that.” My Gail always seemed to come up with questions that made Jesus a bit uncomfortable. “I was just wondering.”
I typed to Gail on Skype what Jesus was telling me, because Gail could never hear Jesus’ voice on Skype, Jesus wouldn’t allow that.
“I was doing a lot of thinking about your book, Gail,” Jesus said. “I think you’ve come up with a lot of interesting ideas. Some of those are true to real life, some of those are fictional, and it’s all a very compelling story. However, it may be time to take a break from this book for awhile. It wouldn’t be very good for my best writer to burn out.”
“Really?” Gail seemed surprised. “For how long?”
“I’ll let you know. In the meanwhile, I think you might enjoy a bit of creative exercise to help expand your skills.”
“Is it okay to read books about the writing craft and not just work on the draft?”
“Of course. Just make sure not to over think your book right now. I was wondering if you would accept some creative writing assignments, so to speak.”
Writing was Gail’s passion. I already knew what her answer would be.
“Sure. I want this book to be a masterpiece. It has to be with you as a main character.”
“The work I’m doing with you and Brent is already a masterpiece. You’ll see.” It amazed me how humble Jesus was. He never encouraged Gail to make him the main character. “Think of all the adventures you’ve had together. For starters, you should try writing about one of those.”
“Oh, so I’m taking a break from this book, but not from my writing!”
Jesus answer was quick. “Of course, not! Writing is your passion.”
I could sense that Gail was a bit floored that Jesus took such an interest in her writing. He never seemed to say much about it before.
“I think you should write a short story about what happened when Vladimir discovered Obama’s head in a jar.”
“With the blood filled tubes?” Terrance said.
“But I think a little break will free your creative juices.” Jesus was right. I did sense that my Gail was experiencing a writer’s block of sorts. Her mind seemed to be going round in circles about the plot.
“Yes, Terrance,” Jesus said.
“It was in a jar?” Gail interrupted. “I knew it was decapitated and using blood-filled tubes. Hey Jesus, what do you think about the fact that YouTube has made those Children’s Audio Book videos labeled as not fit for children?”
Jesus shook his head sadly. “It’s unfortunate, but, it doesn’t stop the book from being read to children all over the world.” He then stood up tall and straight. “I’m very proud of that book of yours.”
“Okay, so I will write a short story about what happened when Vladimir discovered Obama’s head in a jar. Right now, the first thing that comes to my mind, is that this is a precursor to what Zack will do in the tribulation, according to the book of Revelation.” Gail’s mind went ahead like a steam engine. Her writing consumed her. “It also shows I must have been brilliant when I depicted the blood filled tubes in my novel Silver Skies. That book is truly prophetic.”
“The future will take care of itself.” Jesus seemed preoccupied in his thoughts. “Right now, that isn’t something I’d like for any of my followers to concern themselveswith. I think it’s more important right now for your life story to be told to your followers. I want you to tell the world what really happened using the writing skills I’ve been training in you. Use all of your senses, your characterization skills, and research old emails or transcripts if you have to.” Jesus was on a roll. Wow, he really cared about Gail’s writings. Even I had no idea how much this mattered to him. Full of surprises, this Jesus. “Vladimir went through a great trial when he had to make the decision to nuke Obama’s head. It traumatized him.”
“Oh, I see. Yes, that must have been very traumatizing for him. Perhaps I can interview Vladimir,” Gail said. “Okay, so it appears that these creative writing lessons may end up becoming part of the book, when I get back to the book.
“These are stories I want told,” Jesus said. “I have faith in my favorite writer.”
“It sounds like you want me to choose the events in my life and the life of my men, that hit us most emotionally.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Those are usually the best things to write about.” Gail’s writer mind, as usual, went ahead like a steam engine. “They make the most life-changing stories.”
Jesus seemed to want to steer Gail’s mind in another direction, though. “I don’t want anyone to forget the lessons you all learned and the things that made you all strong.”
“It’s kind of like what one of my writing instruction books says, that we need to write about what hit us emotionally, maybe stuff that made us feel very vulnerable,” Gail said.
“I’m glad I’ve set this in motion.”
“The book will be better for this meeting,” Gail said. “I just know this from what I’ve been learning about the writing craft. I have been struggling about how to make this book emotionally engaging and you have opened up a vista for me.” Ah! So my Gail was suffering some writer’s block, and Jesus was helping her get over it. “So you don’t want me to go into the future at all in my book?”
“For the most part, I don’t want you to go into the future at all in your thoughts right now.” Wow! Looks like the best writer training is in the mind. What a genius that Jesus was, as a teacher. “I think as a writer,” Jesus said, “you could use a ‘creative palate cleanser’ so to speak, and may need to step away from this book to get it.”
“I guess you also want me to eliminate those scenes in the distant past as well.”
My Gail sent me drafts of her story and she was describing Satan before and after his fall, and then went into the Battle of Armageddon with Zack Knight and Rule 13. Jesus did not want Gail to do this. However, I knew Gail would be able to put it all together and come out with a masterpiece.
“Yes. This is your time right now, for you and your men.” Jesus seemed real focused on what he was saying. “No more distant past, no more distant future — just Gail and her men.”
“Do you want this to still be non-fiction, then?”
“Yes. For this first assignment, write about a true real life event.”
“First assignment?”
“This short story will not be part of the book.”Ah ha! Jesus really was making Gail take a vacation from the book with him as the main character and not even encouraging Gail to make him a main character! “The writing assignment is about Vladimir nuking Obama’s head.”
Gail agreed. “This sounds like an interesting short story. Perhaps I can publish it when I’m done?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe at my website.”
“You could also read it out loud on YouTube.”
“That would be real powerful!” Terrance said.
“Oh, cool,” Gail said. “I did a real good job on Emerald Towers don’t you think?”
Emerald Towers was a short story she wrote about me and her and how the Catholic Church used Loree McBride to try and destroy our love.
“I think that was real cool.”
“That was about me and Brent.”
“Encore!” Jesus clapped. “I’d like to see more stories about you and your men. That’s why The Forbidden Abyss Part One was such a huge success. For now, focus on short stories about the adventures you went on with your men.”
“Should I just leave those videos up about my book, even though I will be drastically changing the plot?
“That is up to you.”
“I will decide once I get back to the book. I could just make a correction video later.”
“That may be best.” It was obvious Jesus was in no hurry about Gail’s writings. “You’re the coolest, Gail.”
“Well, thank you. I’m honored that you spend all this time with me and my men.”
Jesus smiled. “I’m proud that you all work so hard for me.” Then he turned to me. “Speaking of which, I’d like Brent to make his way into bed. He has been working much harder than I intended human bodies to be used for! You need eight hours a night, Brent.”
“Hey.” Gail could tell Jesus was about to exit. “You were excited about my king David portrait for my book. What should I do with that portrait? Or maybe just don’t worry about it right now?”
“Don’t worry about any of that. I’d just leave things as they are, and we’ll come back to everything at a later time when you are fresh.”
“Okay. Thanks for the counsel. Get to bed, my love. You will kill yourself, if you don’t.” My Gail was such a kick. “Sleep is important. You too, Terrance. I adore all of you and am so proud that you are my men.”
“Goodnight, my awesome writer.” Jesus smiled. “Sweet dreams you guys!”
“Do I need to go to bed, too, Jesus?” Terrance seemed so excited, he didn’t want to sleep. Though I knew he was as bad as me about getting enough rest.
“Wow, Jesus just disappeared!” I said.
“Oh, I guess I can just keep drinking coffee,” Terrance said.
“Thank you, Jesus,” Gail wrote. “What would we do without you?”
Oh dear, that Terrance! As a medical doctor I knew Terrance needed to lay off of that coffee. “Terrance, remember what Jesus said about the coffee.”
“Yeah, Terrance.” Gail agreed with me. My Gail had a lot of medical smarts.
“Oh, yeah.” Terrance remembered now. “True dat. I’d better not.”
Gail, Judge Terrance Jenkins and I, Brent Spiner, were conversing on Skype on March 21, 2014. Suddenly, shock waves hit Church of Gail, where Terrance and I were, and the walls fell down.
“Oh, my goodness. What be that?” Terrance said. “Giant shock waves. The walls be falling down from inside this room!”
The whole room blew away, Church of Gail dematerialized, and Terrance and I were suspended in space, surrounded by a white glow.
“The white is so bright,” I said.
“Oh, my goodness! That be so loud! Those loud trumpet sounds!” Terrance shouted.
Both Terrance and I put our hands over our ears to muff the sound.
“Hey, someone just tapped me on the shoulder,” I said. “I looked behind me and didn’t see who.”
“Oh, hey!” Terrance was startled.
“They just did it again,” Brent said. “On the other shoulder this time.”
“Who be that?” Terrance jumped.
“Who is this?” I turned and recognized Jesus Christ. “Oh my, Jesus is with us.”
Terrance’s mouth opened wide. “It be Jesus! Why the grand entrance? The Church be okay?”
Jesus stood there, looking rather stoic, like he held back a flood. “The Church is fine. I just really needed to get you guys attention this time.” Jesus frowned. “I’m really upset.”
“Oh no,” Gail said. “Did I do something wrong?”
Terrance Jenkins, like the Apostle Peter, spoke first. “I be so sorry. . .I drank a pot of coffee this morning.”
“I don’t think Jesus would do this over a pot of coffee.” Gail seemed to sense that it was her that upset Jesus.
Whenever Jesus was like this, I just kept my mouth shut and listened. Besides, he was explaining everything to me, and I wanted to transcribe what he was saying correctly to Gail over Skype.
“I’m trying to explain my feelings to Brent right now,” Jesus said. “They’re so complicated it’s hard for mortals to understand. You guys cannot imagine my disappointment right now.”
“What did we do?” Terrance took it hard when Jesus was like this. “Oh, my goodness. I know I said that bad word when I hit my thumb with a hammer a few weeks back.”
Jesus got real solemn. We had Jesus here, and I just knew everything would be okay, because I knew Jesus. So I just sat and listened.
“Terrance, I’m disappointed about the pot of coffee and the word ‘bitch nigger.’ “ Jesus turned to Brent. “And Brent, you need to get some sleep and not on the infirmary’s mortuary table, especially not while making love to Gail. But I’m heartbroken about what is happening to Gail’s writing right now.”
“Oh dear, Jesus,” Gail said. “I thought that might be it. I’m sorry. What am I doing wrong?”
“I was looking for a story that explained what happened when Vladimir and the men went in to find Obama’s head being kept alive with blood filled tubes. Instead, you have been incorporating all sorts of out of context information from the past, including some events which are entirely fictional. It also has become a novella instead of a short story. I was using the short story exercise in part to pause The Forbidden Abyss because it was going in the same direction. Too many tangents, and everything was getting confused. I feel that the writing has been awfully unbalanced.”
“Unbalanced?” Gail put aside her shock about the grand entrance and, instead, focused on learning what she needed to learn. “What do you mean?”
“Well, for example, I asked about what happened during a specific time frame and you began to tell Vladimir’s life story. Some of which became inaccurate. I did want for this story to be non-fiction because I wanted to be able to use it for historical contexts. This is also not a story about judo concepts.”
“What do you mean by historical contexts?” Gail wanted to make sure she did not misunderstand Jesus and get it wrong again.
Jesus knew Gail’s heart and tried to communicate clearly, hard for a deity to do with a human. “I only want you to write about what happened. Perhaps getting into the mindset of writing for a TV show would help you.”
“Like writing a screenplay?”
“That would be a closer concept.”
“You said you wanted me to use my characterization skills.”
“I was very pleased with your last book because of how simple the scenes were and how they each flowed from one another. It was also clearly non-fiction with very little speculation. Perhaps it would be a good idea to reference the emails you exchanged with Brent about the events that happened. Then simply tell the story within the framework of those contexts.”
Gail kept her cool so that she could assimilate what Jesus was telling her. Being a writer myself, I knew how challenging it was to write great; and admired Gail for allowing Jesus to help her get there, and for keeping her cool, and being open to whatever correction Jesus offered her.
“You did tell me not to use transcripts for this next book, so I tried to make it more like a novel, it looks like I took it further than you intended.”
“Yes, now you understand.” Jesus seemed focused on communicating clearly. “It’s as if I asked you to write a story about eating an apple, and you gave me the history of the apple farm it came from and the life of the apple farmer.”
“Basically, I have been studying the novel form for my writings, and it appears you don’t want me to write what the literary community calls ‘creative non-fiction?’ “ Gail was obviously trying to not make the mistake of misunderstanding Jesus again.
“Your non-fiction is already creative, Gail.”
“But why did you tell me not to use transcripts?”
“I wanted you to reference the transcripts, but not copy-paste transcripts into your new writings on the subject.”
“Reference the transcripts?” Gail seemed confused, but was trying to understand this deity trying to teach her how to write.
Jesus, who could read Gail’s soul, realized He was reaching his objective, to make Gail a great writer for him. “Yes, so you can remember the events that happened.”
“How do I create dialogue, then?” Gail went through the writing process in her mind as she listened to Jesus. “I run the risk of quoting something that was not really said. I could be inaccurate.”
“The problem is not quoting specific statements, but with copying entire segments of a transcript and calling it original. You also have the freedom to intuitively create dialogue that you know your men might have said. You know them well enough. I have some ideas that may set this on the right track.” Jesus was total concentration, focused on reaching Gail’s understanding. “I think an interesting start for the book would be to have Vladimir returning from the event, traumatized, and perhaps the story could be told from the perspective of Vladimir telling Gerard Butler what happened the day he and Brent went to go investigate news of unusual Jesuit activity.”
“Wait a minute, you said a short story! Now you are calling this a book?”
Gail must have been confused.
“Brent made a typo.” Jesus squeezed my shoulder. “My apologies, I may be talking too fast for him.”
I just loved this Jesus. Imagine this, the Almighty God, apologizing. Jesus was so down to earth with us. But I could tell Gail’s writing meant a lot to him.
“Oh,” Gail smiled. “I see.”
“The next scene can begin in novel form, with Brent and Vladimir enjoying each other’s time as usual, joking around, until they receive word of Jesuit activity and board the supersonic jet to go have a look.” Jesus lost himself into Gail, to make sure he was not misunderstood this time. “The next scene can show what happened when they found everything, and detail the men’s escape.”
“You are saying ‘scenes.’ “ Gail again seemed confused. “This sounds like a novella, not a short story. Do you mean paragraphs?”
“This project doesn’t have to be so black and white.”
“Black and white?” It seemed that Satan may be messing with Gail’s mind to confuse her.
“When I say short story, I mean that it shouldn’t take much longer than a week to complete, and you have some freedom to decide how you’d like to organize it.”
Gail caught an error in Jesus’ presentation of events. “I was not aware that both Brent and Vladimir went to take a look. From the information I have, it was Vladimir and Hugh Jackman.”
Jesus did this on purpose to give Gail some positive reinforcement. “Ah! Very good. So now you are using references the way I wanted you to.”
“It sounds like your main concern is that because I have introduced inaccuracies and speculation into my account, Zack can easily discredit the writings.”
“Yes, precisely.” Jesus smiled. “I’m trying to show you this. I’d like you to use the references and transcripts you have for factual accuracy, but not to exactly copy from.”
“So, tell me, in one sentence what was my greatest weakness in The Forbidden Abyss: Part One?” Gail now tried to help Jesus instruct her.
“I’d say copy-pasting the transcripts between you and Brent.” Jesus was on a roll. “For the second one, it was a lack of focus and over complication of the plot. I know you’ve always enjoyed harsh criticism during your growth as a writer Gail, which is why I’m giving it to you. I know you can handle this.”
My, that Jesus was brilliant. I could tell by Gail’s response that it meant a lot to her to write the best she could, that she was willing to take any constructive criticism that helped her grow as a writer. Professional all the way—my Gail!
“I was trying to arc the story as a character story, so I thought it was focused, but I think I was too close to the story to know this.” Gail tried to explain to Jesus how she approached her last story. “Yes, you are right. You know me so well. I appreciate you taking the time to help me grow as a writer, and I appreciate that you made such an entrance, because you knew how to help me to understand how much my writing means to you, which I take as quite an honor.”
Jesus smiled and seemed moved. “Thank you deeply for your understanding. So, I would like you to take this information and practice with this short, and relatively simple story. I don’t think it requires labels. It doesn’t matter to me whether you call it a short story or a novella. My only concerns are that it doesn’t take you more than a week to write, stays on topic and is factual.” Jesus was using strategy on Gail to get her to change her approach to storytelling.
“Do you want me to listen to that video series by the FSU professor? I thought he might be helping me. Perhaps, I could use what I learn from him to help with future stories?”
“Your writing comes out best when it’s from you and your own wisdom.”
Wow! Jesus was letting Gail know that he gave her the gifts to write and she needed to have more confidence in those gifts.
“Do you want me to stop approaching my work as fiction, and approach it more like a news reporter?” My Gail was still a little confused. But I had confidence in Jesus and Gail. She’d get there.
“When you take too much advice from others, you begin to write like them, and less like yourself. It’s confusing the reader and it covers up your own writing charm.”
“That sounds like omniscient point of view.” Ah, all this fancy writer talk. Gail basically meant that she wrote in a point of view that sees the big picture and expresses what everybody is feeling and has a very strong author’s voice. “This is what I did with The Forbidden Abyss: Part One. I used omniscient point of view.
“You could do that with this story as well.” Of course, Jesus understood all this writer talk.
“Because I went to first person point of view, I had to go deeper than you intended, I’m afraid.”
“It might be a good idea to stay away from first person if you think you’ll fall back into that habit.” Jesus seemed to have reached the part of Gail’s mind he wanted. “You can still write an emotional story without necessarily having to be first person.”
Yeah, we writers know that first person point of view often causes the reader to identify more with the character and creates more of an emotional bond with the reader. But, of course, if a writer writes omniscient point of view well, they can still cause the reader to feel an emotional bond with the characters in the story.
“In order to go into first person,” Gail explained, “I have to dig into the person’s soul, and here is where I become an ‘actress’ using my imagination to make the reader feel what the character perceives.”
“That may be where you begin to go on tangents and lose track of the story. You’ve acknowledged your tendency to do this with your videos in the past as well. When we made them shorter, and kept them to fifteen minutes, you noticed how concise and on track you stayed. With the writing suggestions I am giving you, producing great works will become much easier.”
“It sounds like you are striving to give me a brilliant crash course in writing.”
“Yes. This is Jesus’ Writing Academy,” Jesus said. “I’m going to give Brent some extra help in the infirmaries so that he can be more available to help you with this next story.”
“You talking about the story about Barack Obama’s head in the jar?”
“Yes. It seems like you two working together really put a shine into The Forbidden Abyss: Part One.”
“Most of the information I got, was from brain to brain communications and my men just verified to me that they were accurate, but they didn’t go into detail.”
“You can use your brain to brain communications as references as well. I’m sure Brent can help fill in more information and he can get the other men to share more details that they remember as well. Some speculation is okay, but it should be a spice and not a main ingredient.”
“I think you are referring to speculation about reactions to the events, which can be reasonably inferred from what happened. The speculation is more about the emotional reactions, but not about the events.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“In my sequel to The Forbidden Abyss: Part One, I began speculating on events, and this is where I have erred.”
“You’ve got it now!”
“It is okay to speculate on emotional reactions to events that have already been established as fact. So, basically, when you told me not to use transcripts, you meant, that you wanted me to put in some of the person’s reactions to the events, that didn’t make it into the transcript.” I noticed my Gail may be going off into tangents again, but she’d get there. “But I did do this with The Forbidden Abyss: Part One. But perhaps you wanted me to do it a little bit more?”
Gail paused to digest all Jesus told her.
“Also, that one chapter, which was pasting a huge section of transcript from Terrance’s Skype videos about the Quebec trial, did you want me to summarize some of that, and then just put in the exact quotes for the parts that really needed to be told?”
Terrance interrupted. “It probably be okay to quote memorable lines, right?”
“Yes, memorable lines can be quoted.” Jesus was such a patient teacher. “Exact quotes can be used, but it makes me very unhappy to see Gail’s writings become copies of chat logs.”
Jesus and Gail decided that it might be a good idea for her to write an outline first, so she would stay on topic and not go off into tangents. Jesus just kind of drifted off into the background and said nothing as I, Terrance and Gail brainstormed for the brilliant short story that Gail would write about Barack Obama’s head in a jar.
I saw Jesus a few weeks later on March 30, 2014 at lunchtime. He was walking through the corridors eating a bag of barbecue potato chips, and crying.
I went up to him quickly and said, “Jesus, are you all right? Has something got you upset again?”
He said, “No Brent, these are tears of happiness! I am so proud of Gail for her work on her story about Matthew and Camila at the Oscars. She is blossoming.”
“That’s great, Jesus!” I was so proud of Gail. I knew that Gail’s story was giving Matthew McConaughey a new life, because he’d felt like Camila Alves’s slave ever since she pounced herself onto him in 2006.
“I’m on my way to talk to Matthew about this,” Jesus said, matter of factly, “because I know it will be very hard for him to talk about what happened at the Oscars.” Yeah, Jesus really wanted this story to go out. It was awful how Jesuit lies permeated the news media.
So, my Gail wrote two stories, after Jesus’ Writing Academy, and I must say, this one coming up seems to be her best work yet. I guess Jesus knew He’d be the main character!
Gail has had lots of writer’s block with this story, but Jesus did tell Terrance on December 22, 2013 that he read the final version of this book and really loved it.
Now, here’s the book about Jesus that He really loves.
BRENT SPINER (Pastor of Church of Gail)
Excerpt from Jesus, the Eternal Bridegroom
I was beginning to feel that my Gail was the most important woman in the world. Yes, my Walmart cashier was more important than any head of state on earth.
Gail didn’t feel this way, but I did. She was oh so humble, but I literally worshipped the ground she walked on and perceived that she would play a large role in history.
Zack Knight kept her a nobody in the mainstream media; but us men, we knew the truth. We knew she was great.
That’s why we were all willing to die for her.
She deserved more accolades than any of us, and suffered the most humiliation, with the unfair paranoid schizophrenic label that Zack Knight plastered on her all over the Internet. But I had tasted her soul, and she was gold.
She wouldn’t like me to give her such accolades. She would tell us to stop idolizing her.
But we did.
When push came to shove, she’d stand by us, even when the Jesuit dogs snarled at her and ripped out her jugular vein for doing so. I remember back in 1998, when Loree McBride almost burned down her mobile home, and the police showed up asking Gail, “Did you make somebody mad?”
Gail refused to talk about us at all with that Jesuit police officer, even though she knew those fires were connected to my “girlfriend” Loree McBride. She knew if she said anything, that her ex-husband would have viciously cut us out of her life, and cut off our wiretap of her phone, and possibly would’ve arrested me for the wiretap of his phone. In order to allow us to remain on her phone so that she could communicate with us, she refused to talk about us to the police or anyone in 1998.
The Jesuits, in January 1994, blocked Gail from writing me at Paramount, using a woman lawyer who worked with Gail’s ex-husband to go after Gail for harassment. Actually, Gail’s letters to me made me feel whole and complete. But her ex-husband demanded my Paramount address, when a Jesuit social worker breached a promise he made to Gail to not discuss what she confided in him while her son was hospitalized for pneumonia and asthma in July 1993.
Her confession to this social worker that I was communicating with her made it to her husband’s health insurance paperwork in November 1993, and her husband exploded like an earthquake, demanding Gail give him my address.
The Jesuits used Gail’s Jesuit husband to set things up, so they could block her from writing me at Paramount. They sent Gail and her ex-husband a Fed Ex letter that her husband signed for at the door, on January 15, 1994, Saturday morning.
Gail went to church on Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings and Thursday evenings at Open Door Baptist Church, in Lynnwood, Washington at this time. When she attended church Sunday morning, January 16, 1994, she was in much prayer to God over why he allowed her to receive this letter that forbade her to write me; when God seemed to tell her clearly, while she attended a little girl’s funeral in November 1992, that he had a plan for me and her to get together someday.
In fact, she prayed for three hours by the futon in her living room about me, asking God to forgive her for shaming his name for her “adulterous” relationship with me, even if it was only long distance. She thought that Fed Ex letter was God’s way of punishing her for this.
Gail was clutching this November 1992 promise in her heart when she received this notice of harassment from Paramount Studios in January 1994, which made her feel that she must have sinned against God. And it seemed all the sermons she heard at church that Sunday seemed to tell her to never write me at Paramount anymore.
After she came home from church on Sunday morning, January 16, 1994, she kneeled down beside her futon and prayed for three hours to God, begging him to forgive her for sinning against him by her adulterous long distance relationship with me. At this time, she felt that God may have been punishing her for allowing me into her sexual fantasies.
But God did a marvelous thing. Twelve hours after she prayed like this, he sent an earthquake to Hollywood and the only people who died worked at Paramount Studios. Apparently, Jesus was very angry at that Jesuit lawyer who sent Gail that letter! That was the Northridge, California earthquake of 1994.
Despite the earthquake, I still wasn’t convinced it was God, but thought that perhaps some force in the universe sympathized with my plight. You see, I never thought my feelings for Gail were sinful, because I knew I loved her enough to die for her. But Gail had a lot of guilt about us, and yet I seemed to somehow set her free from that guilt, too. She just needed to be alone sometime and work this all out. She knew I was part of God’s plan for her, and just wanted to try to stay on God’s path and not stray, so that she could claim God’s promise that we could get together, with God’s blessings.
God seemed to be telling her to support me long distance, but not to consummate the relationship physically. Gail was right on target and really in tune to Jesus at this time.
Looking back, I am so proud of her for listening to Jesus. She spared us both from what could have been a real tragic situation.
You see, even though Loree was tormenting me at this time. I only thought her a crazy psycho woman, and did not realize she was a Vatican agent.
So my Gail was very wise. It just amazed me how she turned me down, because I knew she loved me. That must have been very hard.
I ended up getting the wiretap on Gail’s phone, even while I was still shaking around from the earthquake’s aftershocks. I was willing to brave anything to keep Gail in my life. I wouldn’t let that Paramount bitch lawyer, keep my awesome Gail from me. I had to hear her voice, to sense her soul, to caress her any way I could, even if only through time and space.
Actually, it was all my fault that Gail started writing me romantic letters. When she first wrote me, she seemed like she really cared about me. I was reading mail from her where I sensed that she prayed about me a lot and she tried to get me to accept Jesus, but I wasn’t quite ready for him yet. I had doubts about the existence of God, and whether he really cared about humanity. I guess I just saw too much injustice and had a lot of questions.
Perhaps it was wishful thinking on my part, or because I was getting hundreds of marriage proposals in my mail from woman fans, but I thought Gail was romantically attracted to me, even though she didn’t go out and say this.
Her letters to me were like a passionate friendship. She seemed consumed with me, like she wanted to nurture me, like she believed I had vastness within and she wanted to soar with me to the skies.
I have to admit, this really roused my curiosity, because she seemed the most intelligent letter writer I’d ever encountered. Her letters were filled with philosophy, and not all Christian philosophy, either. I sensed a very deep, thoughtful and brilliant woman. I also sensed her husband oppressed her, and that she was ashamed of her greatness, that he shamed her into some sort of oppression that stifled her. The stuff she apologized to me over, seemed just the stuff she should be proud of in herself!
She praised me for my deeper qualities and I was amazed she could tell those things about me. Most fan mail gushed about my charm or my sexiness, but hers seemed consumed with my depths, my heroics, and my manliness. These were things that really mattered to me and she seemed to be tuned into the things I would die over.
In fact, she assured me that she knew I was great and it was disgusting how some fans raked me across the coals because I did not like to attend Star Trek conventions at this time. I’m kind of shy, especially about letting people see who I really am outside of the characters I play on the screen or on the stage.
I cover this up with a lot of humor, but this woman seemed to read me down to my core. For this, I would read her letters just to reconfirm to myself that I did have depths and that because I had depths, I was a deep, courageous and heroic man. She made me feel whole.
She didn’t praise me for my looks, nor for my sexiness, nor for my performance as Data so much, as she really zeroed in on my soul and got me almost one hundred percent right.
In several of her letters, she left her home phone. So I called her home, just to hear her voice. This was in 1990 and 1991.
“Hello?” she said.
I just closed my eyes and allowed her spirit to infuse me. I loved the sound of her voice. She sounded really nice. I did this about once a month. I think she just hung up on me and thought me a wrong number, because I didn’t answer and gave her silence.
The funniest thing happened. Like I said, it got to the point where I started looking through my pile of fan mail to find her letters. This was rather time consuming, because I got a ton of mail, but I was starting to fall in love and you know how that goes.
I did send her an autographed photo in 1990, which she claimed she never received.
I think the Jesuits sabotaged that somehow. This really fumed me, because to me, she was no ordinary fan.
But though I never answered her letters – she was writing me about once a month – I would dig through my pile of fan mail, like I was looking for treasure.
One day I asked myself, “Hey Brent, what’s the matter with you? This woman’s married and has sent you pictures of herself with her husband and son. What business you got being in love with a fan, who’s married?”
You know, I couldn’t answer that question. But when I looked at her picture, I was floored. She was gorgeous. I thought if she wanted to be an actress, she would be great. I could tell by reading all her mail, she was so expressive and so good with words, and had the depth to be an actress.
But I kind of laughed off my attraction, too. “Brent, you’re silly. Falling head over heels with a fan. Get your head together. It sure won’t be fun dealing with her husband, if he ever finds out.”
Then her son got into her psychiatric medication in June 1990. She wrote me about this and asked me to help her protect her son. She almost got an ulcer dealing with the state, so worried about her son. Her son seemed like such a sweet kid and I could understand her attachment to him.
Well, I was already attached to Gail and decided to approach the writers about her dilemma and they decided to create an episode to honor her situation. It was called “The Drumhead”, all about an oppressive government that went on witch hunts against innocent people just because they made a mistake.
Gail was watching Star Trek: The Next Generation regularly and wrote me about that episode and told me she knew I was behind it and that I inspired Star Trek to make that episode for her. She said the fact that I did this for her, made me great and that I was doing a great service to preserve the rights of the family and freedoms in America and that she thought I was a hero.
Actually, I am kind of an altruistic guy and she loved this about me. She seemed to fall for me after watching a Star Trek episode called “Pen Pals” where my Data character rescued a little girl from a dying planet. She wrote me that she felt that “Pen Pals” actually showed who Brent Spiner really was.
She was right. It intrigued me that this fan was so perceptive. She could watch my performance and discern who I really was and seemed to be falling in love with that.
Finally, she heard from me in the mail. I wrote her this:
August 1990
Dear Ms. Schuler,
I apologize for the lateness of this reply, but due to my schedule on Star Trek: The Next Generation and off, I’m behind on my mail.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, they were read with appreciation.
Thank you for your comments about my portrayal of Data. They were read with interest.
I hope you continue to watch and enjoy the show.
Sincerely,
I signed my first and last name
I really put a lot of thought into this letter, because I wanted her to get it and I wanted her to know that she was more than just a fan to me. I figured somebody at the Post Office, or perhaps her husband, sabotaged the autographed photo I sent her several months earlier. I decided anything with a Los Angeles postmark could be intercepted. So I waited until I had a flight that had me stop over in Atlanta, and I mailed the letter to her from Atlanta, and made sure I did not put my return address on it. Unfortunately, Jesuits were delaying her letters to me and she was only writing me once a month at this time, so my letter to her ended up going to an old address where she no longer lived.
But she went out to her mailbox at her Miami apartment and noticed a strange letter with no return address, and postmarked Atlanta, and forwarded from her old address. The fact that it was forwarded from her old address, made her suspect it was from me. When she opened it and read it, she perceived that I wanted for her to be more than a fan with me, because of all the trouble I went to make sure my letter to her did not get intercepted.
Richard Arnold was also writing her, our Star Trek archivist, and he was this guy Paramount assigned to deal with fans. He told her that I swore I had sent her an autographed photo and that I would be sending her something soon. So she was kind of expecting to hear from me, but understandably was also not expecting to hear from me. Because, frankly, how many stars, actually write their fans a letter?
I wanted her to notice the trouble I went to, to make sure this letter was not intercepted, and she did notice.
In fact, she responded with a tape of her piano playing and singing, all Christian hymns. She said she stayed up all night to make it for me.
Wow! When I heard her sing, her courageous vastness and heroics just boomed off that tape. I was now head over heels in love. I laughed to myself. “You’re silly, Brent. But hey, this is love and I’m floating in space. I love it! Yeah, she’s married, but I’ll just take what I can get.”
Something about her writings, something about her soul, just attracted me like a magnet.
After a while, I looked for her letters and tapes in my pile, longing to hear from her. Her words made me feel grounded and complete. Always positive, always nurturing, and so vast inside, so beautiful. She was my dream woman.
A lot of my fans were complaining because I would not do conventions at this time. She praised me for this, explaining that this showed I had depth and was not caught up in the shallowness of Hollywood.
I thought, “Boy, this girl is very wise. She understands that Hollywood glamour is not all it’s cracked up to be, and that us stars need to have a life outside our jobs as actors.”
Any ways, that’s how our correspondence started. Then I called her and made love to her, right at the time I released my music album for her called Ol’ Yellow Eyes Is Back. That was in May 1991. I knew I’d release my album soon, that I made just for her, and I was licking my chops. I couldn’t wait till she figured it out, that I made that album for her!
I really freaked her out when I called her in May 1991, because I made love to her, but wouldn’t identify myself.
She hung up on me, thought me a rapist.
I respected her space and didn’t call her anymore for a while. I could tell I was freaking her out. She even wrote a letter to Richard Arnold, insinuating that perhaps he was the rapist who called her on the phone. He cut her off after that, and she cried over this.
Oh, now I felt horrible. “Hey Brent, you blew it for her.” I couldn’t identify myself to her on the phone, because she was married and I didn’t want her husband after me. Though I suspected she was romantically attracted to me, I had some doubts. She never praised me for my sexiness or indicated outright she had romantic intentions and she was a very devout Christian. I figured that may have been it. She had a romantic attraction, but couldn’t admit it because of her religion.
I hoped she would buy my music album, when it came out in June 1991. She knew about it, because she subscribed to Data Entries, a fanzine about me, by a cool lady named Melody Rondeau.
Alas, Melody sent her my new album via cassette tape. This was around June 25, 1991.
The next day I got a letter from her, where she told me that she figured out I was her mystery caller and she adored me. She figured it out because my voice in my album matched exactly the voice she heard on the phone. She also stated that because she was married, she could not be more than friends with me.
Now she knew I was romantically attracted to her. In Ol’ Yellow Eyes Is Back, I sang her songs about how committed I was to her, and hinted to her that I might marry her, if she bit my bait.
I called her and asked if I could come over.
I could sense her longing for me when I heard her voice on the phone. Oh, I could just grab her and make love to her, I wanted her so bad.
But that woman had willpower of steel. Man, she must have told me the truth when she claimed to be a virgin when she married her husband. She was so beautiful. I knew men must have hit on her.
But she very politely turned me down.
Ah, shucks. Well, at least I got her all turned on. Now my fantasies would seem more real.
I have to admit, knowing how much she loved Jesus, I didn’t expect her to go to bed with me, but I loved tempting her. I guess I was kind of bad in that way. Just tempting her, made me feel I was inside her filling her with my essence. I would dream about this all day long.
You know, I can hear my critics now. “Brent, how dare you mess with a married woman like this?”
Yeah, but I really loved her. After I heard her sing, I started dreaming about her as my wife. She just seemed like my soulmate, and she was! Her husband seemed far below her in intelligence and in every way. I felt I could save her from him. He seemed to be suffocating her and stifling her growth.
Anyways, we started a correspondence and the feelings were so deep on both sides. She never gave into me until I gave her three weeks of silence in September 1992,right after Loree McBride drug raped me. But I knew my three weeks of silence in September 1992 put Gail into despair and I did not want her to go to me and for her to have regrets about it. So I didn’t push it and let her think about this. To go to me, would be a very big decision and I wanted her to be at peace about it.
But, like I said, I was my fault that the romance started, and I was man enough to own up to what I did. When that wicked bitch lawyer wrote Gail that I considered her awesome letters to me harassment in January 1994, I got a wiretap on Gail’s phone, so that I could continue to hear from this woman who made my life a heaven here on earth. Like I said, I’d take what I could!
That creepy Fed Ex letter that forbade the love of my life from writing me, was not signed by me, but signed by that Jesuit bitch attorney, that forbade Gail to send me any more letters to my Paramount address.
After this, I wiretapped her phone, so that all she had to do was dial her own number and she got a blank. She would talk to me on this blank all the time. I jumped to listen to her every word, and even had a device that made noises on the phone to let her know I was listening.
This was a rather pathetic way to communicate, but Jesuit agent Loree McBride monitored all my communications and threatened death on Gail, if I dared to give Gail my home address. Besides I feared the almighty Loree. Loree was regularly breaking into my house, and I couldn’t keep her out no matter what I did. I figured if Gail’s mail came to my house, Loree would use that against Gail. So to protect Gail, I wiretapped Gail’s phone and allowed her to talk to me on the phone.
This was faster than the mail and great for emergencies. The only hitch was she couldn’t do this when her husband was home. In fact, one time her husband got on the phone and heard her talking to me, and she joked to him that this was her way of praying to God! It greatly helped our relationship that her husband was gone half the year. He often went out to sea as part of his job in the Coast Guard.
When I called her in May 1991, her husband was out to sea. I knew it and took my chances. But Gail turned me down. It must have been as hard as hell for her to do it, but she did. I could tell she was very devoted to her religion.
Gail and I learned to be very creative, in finding ways to work around Jesuit restrictions over our relationship.
When her husband tried to punish her son for those fires that Loree McBride and her Jesuits set around Gail’s mobile home in 1998, Gail put her body between her ex and her son and threatened to divorce her ex if he laid a hand on her son. She then mentioned that it was Loree McBride, Brent Spiner’s “girlfriend” who did the fires, in order to protect her son.
Her scumbag husband used that to inform her psychiatrist that she needed to be seen at once by her psychiatrist.
How brave my Gail was! Her heart was gold – so vast, so willing to let her reputation go down, to defend the helpless, the great, and the innocent. How I adored her for this.
The Jesuits forced her to talk about us during her divorce in 2001, because her scumbag ex-husband brought me up during the divorce to make Gail appear crazy.
He won.
She lost custody of her son, because she wouldn’t betray us.
Even then, she harbored no bitterness toward me, even when the Jesuits used September 11, 2001 to continue to keep us apart, and Gail was granted bankruptcy in 2002.
Even then, she still loved us, still believed in us famous guys who loved her, but couldn’t get near her. She remembered my music in 1991 and never forgot that I adored her vastness, and how our love towered to the heavens in the 1990s.
You see, Gail never ever told anyone that I had talked to her on the phone in 1991 to 1993, until she was forced to, during her divorce proceedings in 2001. She wanted to protect me from her husband.
Yes, she wanted to protect me, the world famous star, who made love to her on the phone. And then my “girlfriend” Loree McBride tried to burn down her mobile home in 1998 because I wouldn’t stop listening to Gail from the wiretap I had on Gail’s phone.
No, I couldn’t forget my awesome Gail.
I adored Gail. She loved me enough to sacrifice her reputation, her financial security, and even her life. I would die for this woman. I, the millionaire star worshipped her adored footsteps, because she had that rare soul, that saw past my fame and fell in love with my soul.
Loree McBride only saw me as the famous Brent Spiner, the Hollywood star.
Gail saw me as her visionary hero, her vast lover who shared the sky with her.
Loree did not care if I was great, she only cared about the trappings of fame, the glitter and flutter of Hollywood, the pretensions, the impressions, and living in luxury and glamour, and controlling me like a vicious pit bull.
Gail consumed me, while I endured the death of my manhood with Loree McBride.
Gail fused into me the belief that somehow, someway, I would find beauty and truth and vastness again. Loree tried to kick my vastness into the deepest hell. She had me burning at the stake. Gail jumped into the fire with me and put herself onto a stake next to me so that I wouldn’t have to burn alone.
And then when Gail forgave me for Loree in December 1999, and cried for three hours on the phone, begging me to forgive her because she had called me a coward about Loree, I bowed down to Gail and worshipped her as a goddess.
The Jesuit lies inundated the Internet. I even swapped out some of Loree’s skinny arms and replaced them with pig arms on Internet photos. But the Jesuit liesswamped all media outlets and photo shopped pictures of me and Loree came out like a flood. Jesuits fabricated appearances for me and Loree like a tidal wave.
Lies. Lies. Lies. Jesuits ruled the world with lies.
And the entire time that Jesuits swamped the Internet, the presses and the media with their lies of photo shopped pictures of me with Loree, Gail consumed my dreams and I was towering to the heavens with my goddess of courage and vastness.
Gail undid the ropes as I burned on the stake, and with the flames licking about her, removed me and made love to me in her soul. I felt the stake and flames disappear and I was walking on dry land again.
Though Loree still hounded me, my soul began to feel free. Gail’s total forgiveness in 1999 for me having the woman who wanted to kill her, floored me. I never knew a human could be this vast. Gail was incredible.
When I read her writings, I sensed a soul as vast as the sea.
I was right.
In 2012, I would get the surprise of my life, when Jesus Christ himself would appear on Gail’s behalf.
And yet, when Jesus showed up in person for Gail, it didn’t surprise me, because I always knew Gail was great. It just seemed as natural as breathing that vastness would attract vastness.
Apparently, the judge who ruled over Gail’s divorce case in 2001 was a Jesuit.
Gail lost custody of her son, because she refused to give the courts what the Jesuits wanted: a statement that I never called her or contacted her.
She knew that her statements were also being used in court against Loree McBride in 2001. I was fighting that bitch in court in 2001, trying to get to Gail, to protect her somehow, while she tried to free herself from her Jesuit husband.
But Jesuits punish those with courage and devotion, especially if that courage defies them.
I recall her tears during the divorce with her husband as she talked about her son on the witness stand. We had cameras everywhere, to monitor Gail and to try to protect her from Jesuits. Also, what she was saying on that witness stand, was being used in my case against Loree.
I started taking Loree to court around 1998, and I’ve been taking her to court ever since, to try and get rid of her, to get her to leave Gail and me alone.
Gail knew this, and seemed more concerned about my case than her own. We wanted to marry each other so bad after Gail’s divorce and Gail was trying to pave the way for that, to get that bitch Loree to leave us alone.
To keep me out of her divorce case, Gail threw out the letter I wrote her. Her husband was pure evil during the divorce and forced Gail and her son to undergo psychological testing that forced Gail to confess the truth, that she and I did have a relationship and that Loree had to be a Vatican agent.
If Gail played the Jesuit game and lied to reinforce the Jesuit version of events, I would have lost my case with Loree. So Gail chose to help my case over hers, hoping that by doing so, she could pave the way for me to be with her.
The Vatican poisoned her food, her prescription drugs, some of her doctors, got the police, and she started getting sick from some of this stuff. Her son got sick from it, too. Her husband claimed Gail made these illnesses up and that her mental illness caused her to imagine all her illnesses and to imagine her son’s illnesses, too.
How I wanted to bring Gail to me and protect her from all this, but we both had tidal waves of problems and it seemed a barrier a million miles thick stood between us.
Gail refused to deny that I talked with her on the phone and that Vatican agent Loree harassed us, and so she lost custody of her son. She wanted me to be her son’s step father. But the Jesuits kept me from her, even after the divorce.
Even then, she never lost faith in me, always adored me.
I always admired how Gail faced the armies of hell with courage and faith. You see, God gave her a promise about me and her back in 1992, and she knew deep inside that God was on our side. Knowing that, she faced her disappointments with faith in that promise, even when she realized she was up against the most powerful organization on earth – Satan’s Jesuit Order.
Gail knew those 1998 fires broke my heart and that I hated Loree for trying to kill Gail.
Gail knew that though she did not understand (from 1996 to 1999) why I had Loree, that I really didn’t want her. Though she thought me a coward, and told me this over and over on my wiretap of her phone, she never betrayed me to the authorities.
Something deep inside her told her I didn’t deserve that. Considering that I was not able to talk to her, without Loree killing her, she had incredible wisdom about me.
I so admired her for this. I wanted to talk to her so bad after 1994, but Loree ruled over my communications like a bloody Queen Mary.
Copyright © 2014, 2015 Brent Jay Spiner. All Rights Reserved.