As of January 16, 2003 - A Happy, if a bit past fashionably late New Year, End Times epicureans! And my, what an animated annum it's been! According to the new Republican calendar, 2002 was The Year of The Terrorist, with public hysteria-grams sent out at regular intervals to pep up the populace about phantom attacks that might or might not occur in malls, airports, sporting events, little kiddie's closets, etc. Bush declared his "axis of evil", citing Iraq, Iran and North Korea. Three locales exactly none of the al Qaeda terrorists hailed from, but which he could safely push for war against, since nobody likes or has any use for them, either. He might just as well have picked Luxembourg, the Klingon homeworld and Trent Lott's backyard.
It was all part of the great "War On Terror", which seemed to do exactly nothing about catching real terrorists or preventing real attacks from happening all over the globe. But, it's been simply spiffing for Dubya's approval rating and distracting the media and the brain-dead majority from the spectacle of the imploding economy and our disintegrating rights.
Of course, all of this has meant for big numbers in the Doom Biz, as the apoca-looped lap it all up with a serving ladle, certain that all the above are just signal flares pointing the way to the end of the line. My site's never enjoyed better numbers and a fair deal of that is due to the Trib-twinked who stumble in here via search engine slip-up. Some even go on to link their own sites to mine. I thought they merited a thanks and a mention after all this time. And speaking of meriting a mention, (how's that for a smooth segue, eh?) two of my listed bizarros have just made the not-so-stunning leap from Doomsquirrels to jailbirds. Now, Darwin might say that such a radical change would have to take place over many generations. But, then, Darwin never observed such mutant specimens as William "Little Pebble" Kamm or R.G. "Sorry, No Funny Nickname" Stair... a little something ol' Chuckie could be grateful for.
2002 came and 2002 went, yet not a trumpeting Trib seraph nor a comeback-minded J-man could be bothered to get down, get Judgie on the home planet. A total bummer for both Evangelist George Curle and the Rev. J.S. Malan, respectively, who probably had their T-shirts and embroidered band jackets all ready for the big world end tour.
It's been a bad year for poor Dr. Joseph R. Kopeski, what with dear ol' Ma Earth not wobbling down to a stop like a super economy-sized dreidle and all. Ooh, what's gonna happen to all that yummy chocolate gelt he bet on his doomsdate, now?
April certainly was the cruelest month for little Mikey Keller, potpourri apocalypse pumper and wild-eyed, hate-mongering Fascist nutsatchel. Yet, despite his hopes for a brighter, whiter tomorrow, Spring failed to produce a single fiery shower or even a drizzle of brimstone to wash the multi-culti masses away.
It was supposed to be a jolly June Doom for both the US and those ultimate tabloid magnets, the Windsor clan, according Anglophilic buggybonnet "Mordred Pendragon". He was quite adamant that soon the Antichrist would be busting out all over. Instead, by August, his prophecies were over and busted.
It simply would not be summertime without a mention of the passing of another fabulously failed apocalypse from the fine followers of Bob Dobbs. Of course, the Subgenii have wasted no time uploading yet another grand final party invite to the faithful. So, hurry on over, if you don't want to be left out with the rest of the "pinks"!
Sherman, set the Wayback Machine for Christmas, 1967! We're going to the happy, if ciggie-hazed, home of one Knud Weiking, who's about to be warned of a Nuke de Noel by a glittery-gold, proto-Babylon dancer ET named "Orthon" ...But, Mr. Peabody! ETs are small and gray and bug-eyed, everybody knows that! Besides, there was no nuclear attack on Christmas, 1967! ...Well, you're too young to explain the first question to, Sherman, my boy. But, as to the second, just remember; no nukes is good nukes!
Sashaying up a decade or three... well, sort'a, kind'a... almost... we find ourselves smack-dab in the Internet's Tertiary Period. A strange and primitive place through which unsuspecting surfers rove freely, blissfully unaware of the malignancy about to be unleashed amongst them. A cancer that would be cut out in one place, only to take form and spread a thousand-fold elsewhere! A disease that laughed at the threat of cure! A horror that could not be contained! A nightmare that would never end! A monster that, once created, could not be unmade! An evil that would never be quelled! I speak, of course, of the terror of... spam!!!
Ah, but, not everything here is about looking backward. For all the failings and the jailings, we've had a clutch of newbie boobies zero in for a crash landing on these pages, too. Oddly enough, NASA gets first billing in this category, with a jump-the-gun speculative comet-o-doom announcement that got End Timers in a tizzy...only to have their shiny, new apocalypse downsized to an economy fly-over by the next business day.
As far away from NASA as one can get without actually phasing into an alternate dimension, we find the endlessly rambling, junk bestrewn Internest of space cadet, "Zeropoint", which he proudly dubs, "The New Physics". New they are, indeed! And entirely unique, as well, to the confines of little Zero's pointy head. Of course, Zero would disagree with that. But, then, Zero would insist that the US military are treating an invading horde of bug-eyed gray ETs to an all-you-can-eat buffet of black market-fresh human babies. That does sound grim, doesn't it? But, I hear the tater-tots are delicious!
Zdravstvuyte, comrades! Come share a vodka to celebrate this little glasnost moment in the world of 'net kookery! A toast to the mad rantings of that mysterious, muddle-minded maven of the Russian steppes, "Dr. Eve"! Vashe zdorovie! And another to her ever-loyal PR apparatchik, Janus Gregoric! Vash...uh,... to him, too! After spamming a host of mailboxes, including my own, with their yummily insane, doom-vowing screed against pretty much everything, the happy duo have been given a well-deserved, permanent niche in my korner. So, come pull up a chair, pour yourself another drink (you'll need one) and say, Gde zdes tualet? ...Oh, wait, no. That's "Where is the bathroom?" Sorry. ...um, oh, right! You'll say, Na kakom narkotiki yavpyayutsya pi vy? Which, of course, means, "What drugs are you on???!!!"
I got the Evil Aryan aliens lied to me about everything
And I ain't got no 'zact Doomsdate Blues...
I said, I got the Evil Aryan aliens lied to me about everything
And I ain't got no 'zact Doomsdate Blues...
They're gonna blow up the world with some comet or meteor or...whatever...big thingy...
And leave nuthin' behind but my shoes... ooooooh...!
In addition to all that them there, the Links section has experienced quite a boom in new arrivals and the media section has a few interesting info-bitties, as well, particularly on the books page. It should go without saying that the Apocalyptic Program Guide has its shelves freshly stocked with this month's latest, if not always greatest, catch of doom around the dial. And a lazy saunter through the gaudy galleries of the Geddon Museum is always on my recommended things-to-do-before-the brimstone-hits list.
As of May 11, 2002 - What can I say? There I was, minding my own business, not bothering a soul, when I was suddenly seized with this mad, crazy urge to redecorate! Yes, brothers and sisters, the spirit of site renovation moved me! It floooowed through my body and out onto my page editor until each and every corner of my site was.... born again! Glory, hallelujah! I'd like to say it was Martha Stewart speaking through me, but all things considered, I think I had more of a Christopher Lowell thing going...or possibly Pee-Wee Herman. But, hey, it's a look and it's mine.
Of course, not all the changes 'round here have been for beauty's sake, alone. The Doomwallowing biz has picked up a mite over the last annum. Spurred on, unquestionably, by that little traffic-stopper in NYC last September 11. Never at a loss to make a bad situation worse, panting propheteers have scurried, cockroach-like, out of the woodworks to wring fire-breathing, sinner-roasting, fantasy affirming, apocalyptic portent out of every agonizing detail. The results of which have been... pretty much what they always are.
And speaking of abject failure, let's take a look at a few long-time residents of these pages whose doom-doting prophecies have had the bad luck to pass their freshness dates: First up is the self-dubbed, Brother Solomon, whose window of opportunity for Jesus' Mount Of Olives comeback has not only closed, it's been boarded up, bricked over and turned into a falafel stand. Please help by sending the Bro donations for a home-bound plane ticket and a clue.
The pyramidologists weren't having a very good year, either. What with the world not ending per ancient rock pile and all. Maybe they just have the wrong architectural structure? I'm thinking maybe they should switch to an igloo. Or a wickiup. It couldn't hurt.
Way down Southwest in the land of SeaWorld, the ever-optimistic Unarians are doing their darnedest to deal with the inexplicable non-appearance of both the Interplanetary Confederation of ETs and their prophesied convention site...Atlantis. No, not the spiffy resort casino in the Bahamas, the crumbly, waterlogged burg in the, um, Bermuda Triangle. Well, you know how it is when you book your astral travel plans with a discount cult.
And if you just mosey on down the block a pace, you might run into Charlie Spiegel, who's most likely as mopey over the odd absence of mighty Mytonians amongst us as the Unarians are over that whole ET-AtlantisCon thang. Maybe they should get together and form some kind of support group for UFO Cult-Cookies Who Can't Get A Date?
It should come as no surprise that not everyone who was into aliens in 2001 was into the lovey-dovey kind... Well, at least not the unconditional lovey-dovey kind. Afrocentric ET-ogler Tynetta Muhammed has been putting up with the let-down of her spaceborn pals' no-show. And that's a bitter pill, 'cause she was so looking forward to seeing them zap all of Earth's white folk into ashes. I guess now if she wants to see white people reduced to nasty little piles of disposable waste, she'll just have tune in to Fear Factor like everyone else.
Ah, the glitter and glamour of Oscar night! The hunky stars in tuxes, the starlettes in laughable haute couture gowns! The Doomsday comet wreaking death and destruction on all...What? You don't remember that part? Nah, I don't recall anything that entertaining, either. And it's kind of a shame, in a way. At least, if it had been able to take out the designer of Gwenyth Paltrow's dress, it could have done the world a real public service.
But why dwell on the past, eh? Especially when there's so much to look forward to! Like rains of blood and endless plagues and Eastern gods who have severely kinky livestock fetishes...
You really didn't think I could do an update without an entry from that crown jewel of journalistic integrity, The Weekly World News, did you? And as a matter of fact, I've got two! First go-round, it's nuclear doom in triplicate with the standard Biblical chaser. Then, nipping at the nuke's prophetic heels is the Big Guy's kid, himself, with a sudden urge to go prime time...and with a distinct prejudice regarding demographics and market share.
Not all Doomsdays have to be ooky and spooky and blood-drenched and grim. Golly gosh, no! Why, it can be bright and cheery as a clear June morn'! Just ask the followers of P'taah, who all plan on merrily ascending to a higher level full of fun and "deliciousment" (sic) when their date of choice comes busting out all over.
Clearly ex-music producer Ian Gurney spent too many years standing too close to amps cranked up to 11 and the vibrations simply blenderized his poor lil' brain cells. The result is a hilarious, paranoid, infantile tome detailing his doom-doomy-doom-meltdown of the whole wide world.
Considering what a spectacular apocalypse they've got on the shelf, it's really kind'a odd that I get so few Muslim Doomwailers to post about in here. Well, then again, why talk the talk if you can walk the walk, eh? But, I digress...The artful crackers of the Quranic Code haven't felt the need to keep mum about their momentous prophetic find and so I thought I'd share it, too.
I probably should have added this one a long, long time ago. But, I just thought it was so obvious. However, I keep getting mail about it. So, in the interest of achieving "closure" I give you, "Our Solar Death" or "Here Comes The Su-AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!" ...sizzle... sizzle... fizz.....
News Flash! King Arthur is the Antichrist!!!... Whadd'ya mean King Arthur was a mythical person? So's the Antichrist. See how much they have in common! And you worried they'd have nothing to talk about. Well, actually, according to a certain anonymous 'Net Kook, the King Artie in question has been conveniently reincarnated (or just incarnated, in this case) in the non-mythical personage of one Prince William. His reign of eeevil is set to start off with a real summer blast, too.
And it just wouldn't be school break season if the devoted denizens of alt.slack weren't back once again promising the planet a serious whacking off... or whacking... or something...
Off to the right you'll notice some gematrical crayon scrawlings by little Clay Cantrell. We're all very proud of Clay. And his doctors are sure that with a small adjustment to his medication, he might be able to be released one day and live a semi-normal and productive life...Maybe in an assisted living home somewhere in the country...Though, not too close to livestock.
The hate pours hot and heavy from the pages of the DemonBusters, who seem to take issue with pretty much everything and anything that dares to put a non-apocalypse-contemplatin' smile on anybody's face. Basically, if it's fun, it must be demonic. And if "they're" not "us", they must be demonic, too. Swell bunch'a folks. They don't have any precise date to pin their pinings on. But, if the psychic force of sheer human loathing could make the world go boom, they'd be at DEFCON 1 by now.
In addition to all the above goodies, there have been some brand, spanking new additions to the Links section and even a few new entries to the media section, too. As always, The Apocalyptic Program Guide has been freshly updated and is fairly overflowing with cataclysmic eye-candy for the discriminating Doomwatcher... or even the not-so-discriminating. If time permits between now and the End, you may wish to wander over to the Geddon Museum. Since the last update, the curator has secured a couple of interesting new acquisitions for the collection. Sorry, no private docent tours at this time... and no school groups.
Last, but not least, I've added a section for buttons and banners. People have asked me for them before, so now I've got 'em. If you'd like a little graphical something to put on your page as a link to mine, you can find them here. The selection is limited just now, but I plan on making more, as my time allows.
As of May 18, 2001 - Well, helloooo, again, catastrophist connoisseurs! Yes, I know it's been a while. In fact, an entire year... and a few days' spill-over...since last I updated. And I suppose you could go and accuse me of one of those unpardonable Seven Deadlies, such as "Sloth" (though, I personally prefer "Lust" or "Greed", if I get to place an order) for falling behind on my Web Mistressly duties. I actually have extremely good excuses for it. The best, I assure you...Of the very highest pedigree. And I could sit here and enumerate them all, one by one in minute detail. But, the sum of it is, unlike the cartloads of campy Cassandras whose prophetic foibles shriek banshee-like from every page,...I have a life.
Although it's been a stupefyingly slow year for Doomsdates in the wake of all that pants-down embarrassing Y2K business, the backlog, alone, has forced a whole lotta changes on this site to be made at once. So, without further ado, let's get things rolling by taking a look at all the Magic Odd Balls whose apocas lapsed:
The year 2000 is well and truly behind us and we're already ankle-deep into the dewey muck of the real new millennium, ushered in by that best of End Signs: the election of the village idiot as US President, followed by the traditional torpedoeing of the country's economy. Real disaster aside, Y2K was chock-a-block with Doomsduds from beginning to end. Take the Numerology wonks, who, after furiously flipping all sorts of figures about, truly thought they had the date for the Big Day signed, seventh sealed and delivered,...only to end up reacquainted with reality's favorite prophetic number "Zero".
Of course, one can almost always count on apocalyptic perennial Charles Taylor, to sprout, spread his Armageddon allergens all over the place, then wither and die once his deadline passes...Only to pop up again, like the ragweed he is, with the first new lunatic outburst of the season.
Speaking of recurring infestations, Hal Lindsey did his shill-mad best to wring every paranoia pricked penny out of the year 2000. Though, when you're a true Master of Doom like Hal, there's really no end in sight.
When it came to predicting his Kingdom Of Heaven, it was a case of "one mo' time!" for the Rev. Sun Myung Moon...Ditto when it came to flopping out. And Ed Dobson lowered his already dubious standards to go a' date settin' and got soundly thwapped upside the head with a reality switch for his trouble.
Hypergraphic headcase Lester Sumrall has once again seen a perfectly good prophetic book title go right down the cosmic commode, while near-miss for the Kooks List Ruth Montgomery is left in the ruins of yet another prophecy gone poofsies.
Ah, the life of a stay-at-home mom! I've often wondered what it must be like; Keeping after the kids, cooking meals, cleaning house, watching endless hours of soap operas and QVC... and attaching ones' self to crazed geriatric gurus screeching about the end of the world... I dunno if I could do it. I mean, I really hate soap operas.
Four out of five doctors surveyed say that sustained aerobic exercise, like a nice, refreshing hike in the hills, is excellent for maintaining one's health and well-being. I assume they mean, unless you're planning to take your hiking trip with "The Stella Maris Gnostic Church", who went out for a bit of walkies and UFO ogling in '99 and became fodder for a bad X-Files ep, instead.
If there's a chance of having your prophecies go up in holy smoke, there's a lot to be said for scheduling the event long after you're too dead to care about it. Franciscan monk Petrus Olivi had the good sense to work out his ravings thus. Modern Doomsquirrels could buy a clue.
When he wasn't inventing integral calculus, defining what would become known as Newtonian physics, or getting beaned by overripe fruit, Isaac Newton would busy himself with predicting a future Doomsday per the Book Of Daniel...A reminder of just how hot it could get under those big, curly wigs they used to wear back then.
That was the year that wasn't for 19th c. minister Jonathan Edwards. Detailed anti-papal plans, notwithstanding. Likewise for his fire and brimstone-breathing grandson, Timothy Dwight, who was anti-just-about-everybody-else. Nor was it any better for their more dewey-eyed counterparts off in France, The Convulsionaries, whose prophetic results would likely just tick them off.
That mama Mary! She's a talker, all right! And one of her favorite head-phone buddies is "Father" Stefano Gobbi, who's been insisting for years and years that Mary has been leaving voice mail in his noggen to the effect that Y2K would be earth's last... Perhaps "Father" Stef needs to switch to digital?
What would an update be without an item from the Weekly World News, I ask you? And who would want to miss this little treasure about angel Armageddon in the Promised Land?
Bible Code crackpot Michael Drosnan got to wave bye-bye to at least one of his many word puzzle-wrought prophetic pinings this last year. And hallucinating headcase Marvin Byers also got to watch his apocalypse amount to zip.
Dory Tan and her version of the Virgin tried "their" darnedest to sucker the faithful into building a spiffy new chapel to Mary. It had to be done in a jiff, y'see. On a'count 'a 2000 being the End and all. Well, maybe the end of putting up a chapel without a building permit. But, other then that... no.
According to the blackened cajun style neurons of Dannion Brinkley's brain, we should all have been zapped to hell and gone by several dozen deifically delivered doomwallops, by now. From the standard-issue earth changes to WWIII and bio-chips of the Beast, there should be no question but that the End is a nigh kind'a thang. And yet, as they say, the best laid schemes of mice and madmen...
Let's hear it again for the Weekly World News and their fabulous discovery of the "Bethlehem Scrolls", which promised us rip-roaring, militia-mad, action adventure excitement in the Last Days of Y2K. Now, I just want to know where I go to demand a refund.
The big May 17th Venus/Jupiter conjunction was supposed to herald the comeback performance of the boss's kid. Instead, it just made for a small boom in home telescope sales. The date was also a big disappointment for Native American UFO wigger, White Buffalo Calf Woman, whose ET Jesus turned out to be just as sure a no-show as the classic model.
There's nothing like a June Armaggedon!...I mean it. Absolutely nothing, at all. The members of the "World Message Last Warning Church" will have plenty of time to mull that over in their prison cells as they serve time for the various forms of "festive holiday celebration" they engaged in, in anticipation of their sacred due date. Marilyn Agee, on the other hand, never bothers to mull over much of anything. Least of all, the total failure of yet another Rapture deadline, and her June 2000 collection is no exception to the rule.
Summer solar flares, Confucius confusion and the Weekly World News... need I say more?
Okay, there's more. The Weekly World News also dished the cosmic dirt on a spiffy lil' Black Hole of Doom due to do us in, during those deadly dog days of summer. And if that didn't get us, then surely the prophetic palaver of Mother Seaton and her hoary portents for Washington D.C. would. Hmn,... Come to think of it... Maybe Mama S. had something there...
And it's deja vu all over again for the buzzy bunch at the House Of Yahweh. Long time readers will understand. Newbies just click and read away.
Apparently, it's back-to-school time for Jim Searcy's Fall Semester Armaggedon, which managed to get a failing grade on its very first report card. And Grant Jeffrey, tax consultant of the apocalypse, faired no better when his Jubilee jerry-rigged Doomsday dithered by without so much as a shimmy in the Federal Interest Rate.
Still more from the Weekly World News; (I knew you'd be surprised) A brand new Nostradamus prophecy, which nosedived in time for the Thanksgiving holiday! And a series of prophetic delights from ravage riffing rug rat, Donna Sulmond, whose imagination for wacking the world pop in dozens of lurid ways stands as a real example to all those parents who can't even get their kids to write a "Thank you" card to their grandma and grandpa.
Off in the icy wilds of Helsinki, Dr. Hannu Ritvos is likely busy re-doing some more bad math trying to figure out why the world is not collectively acting out an old "Man From Atlantis" episode. And we may never know if Pope John XXIII's purported prophecy came true or not...for reasons that are only too obvious.
The glory of faith is brought once again into full, blazing view via Father Joseph Kibwetere and his "Movement for the Restoration of the Ten Commandments of God". A real maverick, Joe didn't even bother to wait for his backup Doomsday to bomb like his first before allaying his flock's naive fears by locking them up in the church and setting them all on fire. At last report, though there is an International warrant for his arrest, he was still roaming at large.
Remember back in January when the polar ice caps melted and the world ended and everything? No? Sheeesh! Ya' just can't trust a sacred scroll from a supermarket tabloid like ya' used to, huh? Not that such setbacks would get the likes of Dr Dale SumburĖru down. Nah. After all, what's a deadline or ten when you're waiting for a fussy dresser like the Lord?
Off in the Arizona hinterlands, Gabriel of Sedona and his merry flock of apocalyptic ET twitterers have been waiting on a Cinco de Mayo Doomsday for two whole years, only to come up nada. Must be a letdown, indeed. Not that you'd know it from their website, mind you. Gabe is from the "whistle and look the other way" school of prophetic failure, intent on pretending he never suggested any such thing...Until he can cook up a brand new date to go muy loco over, that is.
Dr. Joseph R. Kopeski has some good news and some bad news. The bad news is, the home planet's only got a mere two years before our rotation slows down to a halt, killing us all in gruesome, awful, icky ways. The good news is, it'll seem a whole... lot... loooooonnnngggeeeerrrrrrrrrr...
Of course, while we're hanging about waiting for that to happen, we might just get beaned by our own moon, instead; Courtesy the calculations of one Mark Crealer, who describes our Lunar companion's orbit as "degrading", and I must aver even shockingly slothful.
There are some nuts in the tin that have gone a bit further off than the rest. Such a one is Byron T. Weeks, whose paranoid, right-wing rantings about the Last Days dot the Internet like beer cans in a Superbowl parking lot. As example; his screed about an October 2000 antichrist attack which got spammed all over creation before tanking in full view of everybody.
No year would be complete without a shiny, new apocalypse from the guys who do it best, The Church Of The Subgenius. And I'm happy to report that plans for the ultimate apocalypse party are already underway!
As I said at the top, there haven't been many fresh prophecies to add to the pile, this year. Things being slow, we have to be grateful for the few gibbering gems we can get. In that spirit, I'd like you to help me give a big apoca-loony welcome to my newest additions to the 'Net Kooks Korner, starting with Mr. Bayram Bala. With people these days pushing and shoving and kicking and fighting to always be first in line and front and center and top of the list, it's so refreshing to come across a fellow who actually wants to be last, for a change. The Last Adam, to be specific. In fact, he knows he is. 'Cause Jesus told him so... telepathically... from his spaceship... in the center of the sun. Yep.
Of course, science-minded John Zachary isn't into silly things like spaceships. He doesn't need them, as he can travel spiritually on the astral plane all by his lonesome. Well, a fella' needs a hobby while he's working on the date for the apocalypse. It's a stressful profession. Ya' know how it goes.
You'd think people would have had it up to their eyeballs with the Bible Code, by now. I mean, how many times does something need to crap out before you toss it in the recycler? But, the kiddies of the "Lord's Witnesses" website just can't seem to get enough of the stuff. Warning: You likely will after a couple of pages.
If you think big business and the Bible don't mix...well, what Neverland have you been living in, sweetie? Still, I've seldom come across anyone as airlessly literal and direct about it as John Denton, who's just counting the days until Jesus starts his big hostile takeover deal to grab Terra Firma and fire 95% of the staff... literally.
After disappearing into the pixel-less void for nearly a year, I'm happy to report that paranoid Princess Di-obsessive Klaus Wagner has once again popped back up on the web, as fanatically freaky as ever. Rest assured, so long as he can be tracked to a spot on the 'net, his cozy nook in the Kooks Korner will always have a live link attached.
Along with all the above, there have been quite a number of new additions to (and sadly, a few deletions from) the Links Page. Also additions to the media section in general and, for your Couch Potato Of Doom pleasure, a fresh, new monthly schedule for the Apocalyptic Program Guide. And when you're done with all that, you might want to scamper over and take a tour 'round The Geddon Museum. Admission is free, of course... though donations are always welcome by the curator.