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On Tuesday, December 28, on TBN's Behind the Scenes program, Jan Crouch gave a guided tour of the conference room at their new facility in Costa Mesa, California. The room was full of banquet tables and chairs and decorated with red velvet curtains consistent with the decor of all TBN's facilities.

Mrs. Crouch used the time to promote the seminars available to all TBN partners in Southern California, at a cost. The one coming up, said Jan, was a seminar on liposuction given by her own cosmetic surgeon.

It's a mystery to me how the church as a whole can tolerate such worldliness and outright evil use of "ministry" funds. But the Crouches are free to express their individual deviant interests at the expense of the donations of their supporters since no one dares question them for fear of losing access to the "Christian" airwaves that TBN dominates.

That particular Behind-the-Scenes program ended with a tape of a performer singing on their grand ole opry stage in Tennessee. This stage is one of the most decadent looking one in TBN's repertoire. It is decked out with golden lions on either side of the stage and various Babylonish decor.

TELEVISION HAS BUILT TBN INTO A POWER From The Orange County Register, May 1998

"That comes to you from Jesus, from Jesus!" Jan Crouch cries, as she hands out Hot Wheels cars and Barbie dolls at a Jerusalem hospital.

She freely displays her emotions during such visits, often dabbing at tears.

The Crouches also are frequently seized on camera by the gift of speaking in tongues, a phenomenon Pentecostals believe is a physical manifestation of God, a garble of sounds only he can interpret. On the spring Praise-A-Thon, Jan tells of a recent nighttime episode.

"I waked up and heard someone speaking in tongues — and it was me!" she says. God's message: "Jan, the TBN Praise-A-Thon isn't for TBN at all. It's for all my people. It is their telethon. They are going to have every need met."

Suddenly, she jerks forward at the waist.

"Eloto-moko krecherya undala lala," she says, speaking in tongues.

Recovered, she relays God's message: "Your wallet is going to be healed in Jesus' name."



I remember the first time I ever saw evangelist Jan Crouch on the Trinity Broadcasting Network (TBN). She was telling about the time she and hubby Paul were all set for a trip to the Holy Land, but she didn't have the wash done yet because the washing machine wouldn't work. So she said that she got down on her knees, put her hands on the washing machine, and said, "Lord, I just know you're going to heal this washing machine." And lo and behold, the washing machine went "rumph, rumph, rumph" and started working just fine. Isn't that something? People suffering, in desperate need, pray for miracles in vain, and Jan Crouch has God fixing washing machines for her.

When I visited Paul and Jan in their Orange Country gilded rococo shrine to their bad taste and the gullibility of Americans everywhere, I had a most unnerving experience. After descending the main Louis-Seize/Bordello grand stairway and taking in their Viva Las Vegas inspired décor of interminable vulgarity, I made my way to their ladies room for a surreptitious vomit. Regrettably, I found that Jan Crouch's penchant for gild knows no limits. When I looked up at the ceiling, I was surprised to see that it was made of polished gold, allowing a reflected view of the goings on in each of the other stalls. After witnessing Jan Crouch enter the adjacent stall, remove her Marie Antoinette wig, place it on the coat hook and proceed to relish a rather prolonged poop, I knew it was time to leave TBN studios, never to return.


Flipping channels on a recent Sunday evening, one couldn't help but pause on Trinity Broadcasting Network, where Jan Crouch appeared, complete with pink cotton candy hair, raccoon eyes and HUGE BREAST IMPLANTS! Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick! We almost threw up our lasagna! Our roommate had to pull the fork from the bloody mess that used to be our eye sockets. Isn't it so nice to know that some of that money that the Crouches receive from little old ladies' pensions may have helped create her voluptuous, supple bosom and a tacky Carvel wedding cake of a holy temple in Costa Mesa? She's older than rocks and was obviously proud of her gravity-defying sweater puppies. She wore an alluring, tight, crushed-velvet, low-cut blouse to show off those San Onofre reactors pointing straight up to the good Lord. Her face looked haggard-as usual-as those non-pagan pyramids protruded from her frail, grisly frame. One has to wonder what she looks like topless. Uh, on second thought, scratch that. Only a couple of months ago, while tuning in Praise the Lord, Crouch had grandma-sized, drooping-toward-Satan flesh islands (which, along with the rest of her, ranked No. 16 last year). Perhaps her renovated rack was budgeted into the new TBN headquarters' construction costs. MITIGATING FACTOR: If it wasn't a boob job, she must've been wearing one of those new Pray for a Miracle bras!


POPSMEAR article on Jeezus Jan
What's That On Your Head...A WIG!

ASK FOR A LOVE GIFT!!! Paul and Jan's Home Address: 1973 Port Chelsea Place Newport Beach, CA 92660


Welcome to my tribute to Jan Crouch, the only woman brave enough to walk in Tammy Fae Bakker's Guccified footsteps, and in so doing up the stakes for being an over-the-top joyride of a televangelism hag! Jeezus Jan scores major points for starting out looking like a rodeo clown (giant mop of pink hair, Ronald McDonald make-up, frilly tablecloth dresses with fringe hanging from every limb on her body), only to completely change her look and evolve into the silicone-armored, manicured, uber-wigged JEEZUS JAN: 2000!

Look at the lovely couple. Jan looks amazingly lifelike - partially because of all the plastic surgery, but partially because she regularly saps the life force from her bloodless husband, Paul.

The first time I saw JEEZUS JAN: 2000, she was appearing on her and Paul's PRAISE THE LORD show. I hadn't seen them on television for a while, and I was shocked enough to see how FAT Paul had gotten, but when they showed JAN, I nearly fainted! Paul should have been embarrassed to be on camera - his gut was poking out of his faux-Versace shirt, which was apparently a few sizes too small for his heft.

But Paul looked like Mr. Blackwell compared to his wife, who was only shown for split-second shots. She cackled through the program, sitting at the far side of the stage, throwing confetti at people. She was clearly on a mental decline.

Looking at this picture, I like to imagine it's from an episode of POLITICALLY INCORRECT gone wrong. The usually snarky Bill Maher has run screaming from the set, and Jan goes down in history as the only female guest on the show Maher did not goose or call "sugar."

Look at this poor old woman. You KNOW she's thinking "what the HELL is that creature?!"


Here is a picture of JEEZUS JAN: 2000 scaring a sickly child. This may be my favorite picture of Jan, because even though she's cropped out of the shot, you can still detect from the little bit of her synthetic personage that made it into the shot, it could be nobody but LA CROUCH!

I hope you enjoyed this glamorous descent into the evangelical abyss. Keep dropping by for new pictures of JEEZUS JAN: 2000!