Out and about the town some days ago Mrs. Dr. Omed and I spotted a strange passer-by–an oddly accoutred pedestrian, a middle-aged man draped in multiple placards and large crosses possibly made of sheet tin, like supersized milagros. The texts scribed on his homemade signage indicated the man was an abortion opponent, one of those perfervid street apostles who believe that insanity must advertise. Someone you might cross a busy thoroughfare against the traffic light to avoid.
With all the little posters dangling, the effect was like a walking Jack Chick pamphlet, except this man was Catholic, not a Fundy Prot like Chick. My memory of his cloak of many texts quickly blurred due to the briefness of the encounter, but I did retain one detail–his website: embryojesus.com, and noted it down in my handy Moleskine. When I eventually typed this curious URL into the browser, what I found exceeded my fondest expectations. Go check it out for yourselves, pilgrims and seekers. Just don’t tell him I sent you.
The writings posted indicate that the man–one Micheal Lauer–is not a garden variety anti-abortion fanatic. He is truly demented. His run on perserverations evince symptoms of clinical mental disorder. But the really interesting content on the site are images of his paintings, visionary art devoted to his Embryo Jesus and Stem Cell God. It is creepy but powerful stuff. You’ve already seen the crucified fetus, with 911 Tower and Noah’s Ark. Take a gander at this:
Look at those huge green eyes, the out-of-proportion, elongated El Greco hands, the jolly Santa-like God-the-Father peeking over Jesus’ shoulder.
That appears to be Abraham Lincoln in the upper right corner. Mr. Lauer could probably explain Honest Abe’s presence as well as the other elements in the composition, but I would be afraid to ask.
Note the little crown on the embryo, the cross projecting from the groin.
This one is like a cross between Matthias Grunewald and Frida Kahlo.
The surrealist angel Max Ernst, not the holy spirit, guided the paintbrush on this canvas.
I would post all the images I harvested from embryojesus.com, for this sample does not exhaust the unnerving splendors of Mr. Lauer’s lunatic genius. I refrain as I doubt he would appreciate the appreciation this unhouseled infidel has for his work, done in the service of Embryo Jesus. I don’t think a pregnant woman’s decision to terminate an embryo (or not) is any of his or his Stem Cell God’s business. I don’t particularly want to attract his attention, though I’m willing to risk that to share. The art speaks to me in a native tickle of the eye, the semaphore of mania. Oh, it whispers sweet madness to my bipolar brain. My brain likes that. Keep painting, Mr. Lauer, you have a fan.