As of May 14, 2000 - All right, yes, I know! Before you say it, I'll admit to having been unpardonably lazy in the area of site updates over the last few months. Attribute it to Post Millennial Malaise, if you want. (Of course, you'll have to want to forget that we aren't actually "post" millennial, yet. But, most folks don't seem inclined to burden themselves with that little detail, anyway.) No, there isn't any point in denying it. There has been a slump of interest in things apocalyptic since the world had the poor taste to not end back in January. Even I, hysteria-hardened heathen that I am, have felt something of an anti-climactic melancholy after all that prophetically pitched fever.
Not that the Doom-driven have all given up and gone home, mind you. Heavens, no! If you've read even a single page on this site, you'll know that it takes far more than pure, unadulterated, unmitigated, unqualified, humiliating, delusion-shattering, ego-crushing, fantasy-fracturing failure to get a certified pseudo-seer down. So, although the failures have been piling up like demolition derby cars in a fog bank, new predictions have been steadily streaming in to take their places.
First up amongst the flopsome flotzam, are all those hard-nosed Y2K wonks who just couldn't let go after Jan. 1, and continued to pin their fading hopes for civilization's fall on February 29. Insert your thoughts about coping skills and Egyptian waterways, here.
When all else fails, (and don't it always?) watch the skies! At least that's what the solar flare fanatics had in mind a few months back. Unfortunately for them, the only folks who might have confused the event with the end of the world, were those who live for uninterrupted reception of their favorite daytime soaps.
Despite having given himself and his head voices nearly four whole months to make the world go away, when the results were in, Romanian disaster caster Dimitru Duduman still came up holding the short end of the last straw.
Well, if the sun won't get'cha, the planetary conjunctions will... Or will they? Certainly, there have been plenty of chances for them to try, starting with this lil' date... and then, moving on to this one. The latter was a real pop favorite of many a star gazing apocalypse pusher, the Antarctically addled R.W. Noone being no exception. And darned if that isn't just what his prophecy turned out to be... No exception.
Arkansas survival loon Bryan Elder was likewise struck with a serious case of conjunctivitis thanks to the May 5 cosmic display. Though, he likely didn't get much of a view of it from his fallout cave.
A bit late for the Cinco de Mayo non-bash was old favorite, Toshio Hiji who was determined to give Nostradamus yet, another try at this terrestrial termination thang.
And what would an update be without a flaming failure from the friendly folks of the Weekly World News? Why, that would be like a day without sunshine! Or, in this case, without crimson space dust blotting out the sunshine... and turning the moon to a fine, Biblical Red.
Well, try as I might, I just can't be everywhere and sometimes a prophecy doesn't reach my desk until it has already passed its expiration date. Such is the case with this fine Philippino prediction. A nummy, nutty morsel which almost went by unnoticed back in the January rush.
As much fun as all this no-go nostalgia may be, in the prophecy biz, one must always have something (preferably mass death and destruction) to look forward to. The Cassandra clones have been more than happy to oblige of late, I'm delighted to say. Starting with Dr. Hannu Ritvos, a fanatical Fin with a flood fixation and a death toll that only the Raptured could love.
Speaking of death tolls, it seems that Jim Jones will at last be getting a run for his mass murdering money from Father Joseph Kibwetere and his ever-diminishing Ugandan flock. Whether any of them actually make it to the father's prophetic finish line without going up in holy smoke is currently as big a mystery as the cult's final body count.
It's heartwarming, it really is, how hard science and the Weekly World News go hand-in-hand... Oh, sorry. You weren't drinking any hot beverage while you were reading that, were you? It's anyone's guess what WWN writers were drinking when they ran the raw ends of a real astronomical science report through their mania-milking meat grinder.
The lure of the Mayans proved to be too much for "Dr." Rebecca S. Harrison, who jumped onto the 2012 bandwagon with babbling, incoherent glee, like the unashamed, faith-fried fangirl she is.
Rah, rah, Rasputin!...is all I could think, while reading how the ol' mad monk had prophesied everything from photo-ops of the Loch Ness monster to the world's final flame-out. And who would even think to contest any of this, when the report hails from my favorite info-source, the Weekly World News?
The same high standards could (and should) be applied to a recently uncovered Nostradamus doomsdate and a hyperventilating headline grabber about a sinister sun-munching mystery monster roving closer and closer through the depths of outer space.
Lest anyone suppose that I get all my predictive pearls from the pages of the WWN, let me present a couple of hard-core, science-based lovelies from a class of folks who've got degrees and stuff and doctorates in things that have, like, really lots'a words. First up, is a gem from those ace Mars Lander jockies at NASA's JPL, who see a cloud in our future. An Oort cloud, to be specific, and it seems likely it'll be sending us more than rain.
After that, you can enjoy a theoretical physics fantasia from the hallowed halls of Princeton, as astronomer Stephen E. Thorsett dispenses some nerve-rattling news about the effect of gamma rays on more than just man-in-the-moon marigolds.
The Kooks have been a bit sparse, lately. But, what we lack in quantity, we certainly make up for in... um,... Did I mention the selection had been sparse???... Anyway, I do have two that are worth a perusal, starting with numerology nutter Eli Eshoh who, if he could ever manage to stop raving about the Beast 666 long enough to get licensed, would unquestionably make the world's scariest math teacher.
And rounding out the selections is W. Thor Zollinger, (and no, I didn't make that up) a schedule-obsessed oddbod whose keen grasp of scientific theory is informed by the very latest in 4th century scholarship.
In addition to the above, there are also some fine, new additions to the Geddon Museum and the media section in general with, as always, a fresh selection of monthly TV treats listed in The Apocalyptic Program Guide. Enjoy! Enjoy!
As of February 10, 2000 - Well, after the plenteous poop-out parade that filed past us last month, the year so far seems almost ridiculously quiet on the prophetic front... as opposed to just plain, ordinarily ridiculous, that is. I suppose it's natural. The Doomwags are clearly going through the mourning process; first disbelief, then confusion, then anger, then depression, then date-swapping and carrying on as usual.
The Weekly World News, f'rinstance, almost looks a tad lost in these recent weeks. As if they haven't the vaguest idea what to do a lurid cover about now that millennium fever is on the wane. Somehow, "Dead Dog's Spirit Saves Drowning Boy's Life!" just doesn't have the same punch as "CIA Captures Alien Fugitive-From-God! Warns: Earth's Toast Next!!!" ...Even if they are equally rooted in reality.
Poor Dr. Marion Derlette will also be needing some quiet time to reflect on how the earth could possibly have made it past her perfectly formulated Jan. 16 disaster-fest. Yes, despite her research into the supernatural stop signs of all the world's faiths, (which, according to Mare, bear an almost stupefying similarity to Christianity) the overwhelming majority of the world's populace seem intractable in our willful refusal to die off simultaneously in gruesome ways. Shame on us.
Back on Jan. 20, the moon swooped in for an impressively close fly-by. At the same time, it provided a nifty little crimson-tinted lunar eclipse and Bible-biddies with a thing for moon-turned-to-blood imagery got their millennial hopes raised in vain one mo' time.
You can't fault the Weekly World News for trying...Okay, well, yes, you can,... But, that aside, one has to sympathize with them just a little for having such a seriously bad month. Not only did their alien and their Marion go head-first down the tubes, but ol' Eddy Cayce and his "cosmic storms" turned out to be just so much wind, as well. And as if that weren't bad enough, their "top scientists" with their killer solar flares didn't even qualify as a flash in the pan.
The only popular new news of future extinction comes, refreshingly enough, from the science side of the aisle. Astronomers have discovered an important error in their earth's path-crossing asteroids calculations which could really have a deep impact on our planet's future.
Of course, even in a slow (and hilariously embarrassing) phase, we can always count on those courageous, independent voices of the Web-enabled world to stumble forward where professionals fear to tread. Such a one is "Pastor Harry" of Escape 666, whose generosity of spirit has allowed him to give sad old Nostradamus one more shot at the Big Kaboom, next summer.
And what kind of a year would it be without the SubGenii horning in on the End Times act? Why, I shudder to even contemplate such a void.
All agog over the Gog of Magog? Then, take a jog to slog through the fog at the "www.prophecysite.com" log. The siteowner is abso-tootly-ootly certain he's got the beastie pegged.
Of course, no one said the Evangelicals got to have all the xenocidal fun and a new clutch of Catholic cuckoo birds has been added to the Kooks Korner, who are every bit as bloodthirstily entertaining as their fundie fellows.
Added to all these are some new and nifty images in the Geddon Museum and updates to the Apocalyptic Program Guide in the media section for those finito aficionados who prefer experiencing their apocalypses in a civilized manner; with a remote and some popcorn, on a comfy couch. Enjoy it in the time we've got left!
As of January 9, 2000 - A belated Happy New Year to all my readers! And a premature Happy Millennium, too! Well, the "big" moment has come and gone and oh, my, has it ever left ruination in its wake! Oh, not from global disaster or Biblical apocalypse. My, no! I'm talking about all those throngs of Doom-deprived Last Daysies, who saw their best millennial hopes for total earthly annihilation go straight into the dumpster on Jan. 1. In fact, with non-stop, 24-hour TV coverage all over the dial, they got to see their prophecies and predictions fail all day and night long in every time zone!
Yes, oddly enough, the world's still turning, as blithely indifferent as ever to the fond fixations of the fanatically fevered. The terrible Y2K Bug turned out to be a Y2K bust. It was supposed to crash every computer on the planet, bring civilization to its knobby knees and make Mad Max-style warlords out of Spam-hoarding, bunker-bundled Bubbas all over America's Heartland. Instead, it hardly had a chance to buzz in before getting splattered to a micro-blotch on the windshield of Reality. Terrorists were supposed to strike, the New World Order was supposed to reign, the Antichrist was supposed to rise, the faithful were supposed to float and Jesus was supposed to come in on his cue, for once. I guess they all just decided to stay home and watch the party on CNN, instead.
Naturally, with all this emphasis on one date, the attrition rate has gone sky-high for the prophetic set, with loads and loads of new entries for the failure file. Since I got a bit backlogged over the holidays, though, let's first swing back to November to take a look at Richard Kieninger's apocalyptic poop-out. You'd think he might have learned better than to do these sorts of things, what with 3,000 years of past-life experiences to guide him. But, you and he and all his former identities would be wrong.
Despite the fact that Ruth Montgomery went and nicked just about every type of world-whomping catastrophe on the store shelves and gave 'em a whole three-month period to kick in, not one of her prophetic plans came to fruity fruition.
Also vaguely shooting for the back seats of 1999, atheist- anathematizing Father Alexander McKenna and his cranial chatroom pal, the Virgin Mom struck out on all counts.
Aum Shinri Kyo wannabes, Sukyo Mahikari will have to go back to the lab after their apoca-lapse of the 1990's. Nothing's more embarrassing than a poison-planned Doomsday cult with a failing grade.
Likewise, off on the windswept Russian Steppes, booze-sodden, bio-terrorism-touting copy-Christ Serghei Torpo will have to do some fast forward-thinking to get out of his failure to make the world say do svidaniya last year.
It hadn't been a sterling couple of years as it was for Monte Kim Miller and his Denver deserting Concerned Christians. First, they saw their hometown not get pasted into a comet-carved crater in '98, then they got booted out of Israel in early '99 and then, just as things were starting to look up for Monte's millennial martyrdom, why, what should intrude but the real world. Funny how that happens.
December 19 proved to be a day that would live in obscurity for Bible buff Dotson Meade, his prized Parousial prognostications notwithstanding.
Once again, Hoh-Ming Chen and his UFO oggling God's Salvation Church were left standing around with non-refundable spaceline tickets and transfer coupons. It's only a matter of time before Hoh starts issuing out some more, though. And his terminal tour group will likely scoop them up as willingly as ever, despite their rather embarrassingly chronic problems with layover.
But, of course, the big-time bomb-out came on New Year's when scores of End Timers from just about every shade of the space cookie spectrum got a big, heaping dose of post-bunkum depression as the clocks struck twelve. From militia goons to Christian Right loons, the chiming in of Y2K came as nothing but Exedrine headache #2000.
One example of this was the House of Prayer, a hodge-podge herd of Second Comers whose ravings managed to get them punted out of Israel for the holiday festivities. As certain as they were that they'd be flying heavenward on the turn of the annum, it seems that they just couldn't get it up, after all.
That tower of journalistic integrity Sun Magazine got in on the act by dredging up poor, ol' Pope John XXIII and sticking him with a prophecy-predilection.
Goons And Ammo poster boy William Cooper got a withering wake-up call when Satan could not be arsed to keep his appointment for world domination either before or after the Rose Parade.
A few lesser stars in the brain-fried firmament came to my attention only after their prophetic peter-outs. Still, like the self-anointed Bobby Bible, they were well worth getting a collective honorable mention among the brighter, gaudier lights.
Logging in for his seventh (yes, seventh!) spin on the loser list is Neal Chase of Baha’i splinter group fame. His hopes that the Giza pyramid would reveal to the world the Christliness of his child-molesting mentor ended up even foggier than his thinking.
Puttin' the zip into zippity-do-dah were the Bible-babbling Bobsey twins, David Icke and Texe Marrs. A paranoid pair of Parousia-pushing pin-heads so far out in the Twilight Zone, you couldn't find them with the Hubble Space Telescope. Nevertheless, the long arm of Reality still managed to whack them both upside the head something fierce before New Year's came and went.
And try though he did to make the moment last, Scary Gary North's January 3rd Y2K Bug Armageddon wound up being just as much a non-event as everyone else's. Of course, skittish critter that he is, he started backing off even before the due date rolled in and is already busy as a beaver giving apoca-lip-service for the safely vague "real soon now".
Now, don't y'all get the impression that Y2K marked the absolute end of Doom-dealing dementia. Mais non, mes non-dopés amis! It takes a whole lot more than total, abject failure to muzzle the ravings of the Trib Twinkies, and for every date that falls by the wayside, another pops up to take its place. Besides which, the number 2000 has such a resonance and such magical cache with the digitally dazzled that some folks have gotten greedy and splayed their potential dooms all over the 365 day span. Such shameless date grabbing has given us the likes of Timothy Dwight, an eighteenth century fire n' brimstone hurling Yale president with a soft spot for Armageddon and big, round numbers. And the Convulsionaries, a gang of mystics from pre-bistro France who never said non to any nutty notion if they thought it hailed from the spirit realm.
What would a year be if it hadn't been slated for Jesus rebound by the Weekly World News? And oh, what a year we have in store! Or so say the WWN's multitude of dive-bombing angels cluttering up the air routes all over Jerusalem. And it's not like I'd be one to doubt a foul-tempered seraph or anything, but according to the "Bethlehem Scrolls" (also a Weekly World News exclusive!) the year isn't going to be quite so peachy prior to the prodigal son's return, after all. Of course, both of those versions contradict the WWN's other Oracle of obliteration, little Donna Sulmond, grammar school psychic, who's head voices say most of us won't even make it past Valentine's Day. That's the thing I love about the WWN. It's a veritable midnight buffet of fresh and fruity End Times tasting.
Letting go is hard to do. Especially when you're a Y2K survival sucker. So, one has to show a bit of compassion and keep from breaking into gails of derisive laughter when one hears the poor dears whine about how the digital fertilizer will really hit the fan when the leap year rolls in. Remember, just nod and smile and whatever you do, don't ask them how many cans of Spam they've got stored in their bomb shelters. It's not pretty to see a grown paranoid cry.
Still noodling for Nostradamus, Toshio Hiji makes yet, another appearance in the doom brigade.
Focusing more on the good ol' summertime, a Ugandan cult called, "World Message Last Warning Church" set about spreading the good news in their own, special (though unquestionably time-honored) way.
It seems we can never stray very far from the Weekly World News. Or perhaps, they can never stray very far from us. Either way, they've supplied us with yet, another fortune cookie of Doom via July solar flares. And just in case those aren't sufficient to snuff us all, (and not to contradict the angels or the scrolls or the 4th grader, mind you) by August we should be sucked, screaming into a massive Black Hole... I mean, besides the one created by the Republican Convention TV coverage.
Jerusalem is the place to be when the last horn sounds. At least, that's the view of "Brother Solomon" and his devoted flock, who clearly are just looking for an easy way out, rather than having to slog through another annoying election year.
On the more patient side, a Brit cult called "The Family" has 2006 penciled in for a Grand Global Finalé. And Sun Magazine weighs in with Happy Doomsday wishes from Pope Leo IX.
George Madray doesn't want to set the world on fire... Well, actually, yes, he does...Just not the parts he and his fellow featherheads happen to be occupying. Truth to tell, though, he could only be an instrument in the Lord's final plans if the big guy needs someone who can bore the world to death.
Haunting us from the grave is Jean Dixon, whose psychic simperings of the apocalyptic sort promise a Wagnerian opera of awfulness between now and the final act.
And last... and very likely least, too... let me present our newest 'Net Kooks extraordinaires, "The Cutting Edge Ministries", who promised no less than the solar ignition of Jupiter, courtesy of Satan, the Illuminati and, if it isn't too obvious to mention, NASA.
In addition to all this, I've also included a few new entries in the media section, particularly amongst the books, and a whole spate of spiffy new apocalyptic art to the Geddon Museum. Enjoy!