"There's the Catholic Church, and then there's me," boasts Bob Larson, the world's most-prolific Protestant exorcist.

Larson is a Christian-evangelist renaissance man. He's written more than 30 books, produced dozens of videos, hosts his own radio show and offers personal one-on-one counseling. He even went on the road with Slayer for Spin Magazine to determine whether or not the band members were truly Satanic. (He concluded that they're a bunch of posers.)

Lately, however, the man of God seems to be getting the most mileage from his live exorcisms. He sets up shop in hotel conference rooms around the country, where hundreds of believers congregate hoping Larson will free them from demonic bondage.

At the Sheraton Hotel by LAX, nearly 200 people have gathered to see Bob in action. After a brief introduction, Larson advises the audience members to protect themselves with some spiritual objects. In mime-fashion, they follow Larson's lead and arm themselves head-to-toe with the (invisible) Helmet of Salvation, Shield of Faith, Breastplate of Righteousness and Sandals of Peace. So equipped, attendees are now ready to confront actual demons.

The modern-day exorcist approaches a women who obviously needs some spiritual cleansing. He shoves his Bible hard into her jugular vein and declares, "I draw a bloodline between me and you, Satan!"

He demands the demon tell him his name. The evil entity answers, "Unforgiveness." Then the women says in a little girl's voice, "My daddy molested me."

Larson replies, "The devil made him incest you!" (Bob seems to particularly relish using "incest" as a verb.)

Next, the supernatural being reveals that it is Shirley Temple. "She wants me to lift up my skirt and show you my panties, but I wont let her," says the woman, then adds, "I've been married three times."

"Well, there's gonna be number four, five and six if you don't get rid of your demons," says Larson, who believes that nearly all personal problems--including the legal ones of Kobe Bryant and Michael Jackson--can be blamed on demon possession.

Larson dabs holy oil on the woman's forehead, then lets her be ministered to by a female member of the Do What Jesus Did team (not to be confused with the more-famous What Would Jesus Do? movement).

The spiritual warrior stalks the room, seeking more unfortunates who need his help. Larson approaches a teenage girl wearing a T-shirt with the words "Bad Girls" written on it.

"Why do you have a shirt that says, 'Bad girls'?" asks the moral crusader. "Do you wanna get raped? Are you a bad girl? Get her one of the DWJD T-shirts." He hands the confused girl a shirt and says, "I want you to go to the rest room and come back with this shirt on." She never returns.

Bob approaches a huge, muscle-bound guy with a shaved head who must be at least 6 foot 4 inches and a few hundred pounds. His demon is named Hate. Bob directs a couple of his team members to hold Hate's arms as he administers some exorcism action. Hate lunges at Larson, screaming, "I'm gonna kill you!" This causes the audience to freak out--some are drawing signs of the cross in the air with their hands, while others are making sure that their Breastplates of Righteousness are securely fastened. A blond surfer dude who's even bigger than the man possessed by Hate rushes to the front of the room to protect Bob.

Eventually things calm down, making way for the moment of truth: Larson needs money to raise DWJD teams around the country. He says it costs $10,000 to create each team, and he wants $100,000, so he can start 10 teams in the area. Larson even takes credit cards--just like Jesus did.

I decide to give him a fiver. There are few things as entertaining as one of Bob Larson's exorcism exhibitions, even if no one did vomit pea soup.

(This article first appeared in Swindle Magazine)



Click here to go back to articles page.