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Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

Miriam’s Sins (9)

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Book II: Chapter 9
July 4

Although it was July 4th for me in real time, I continued watching a vision of of Miriam from the prior week – I’d just witnessed her leave Ma’bus’ servant Iffat to fall in a heap, as she now raced to the dictator’s torture chambers.

The hallway was empty when she arrived – and ominous — this was not a place that anyone would want to intrude into. Nonetheless, Miriam read the scripts plated on each door: Luxuria, Gula, Avaritia, Acedia, Ira, Invidia, and Superbia.

“The Seven Deadly Sins,” she said grimly. “Do not be far from me, Lord, for trouble is near and there is no one to help.”

Brushing aside her fears, she began to <probe> into the rooms…

(As you’ll soon see, this was an odd vision because not only was I looking in on Miriam’s physical body, but I actually felt like my own mind was transported into the rooms too!)

As soon as OUR minds <moved> into the room, I could tell that Miriam found more than she bargained for because a surprising <force> surged back against our psyches and Miriam’s physical body was violently thrown backwards in the hallway outside!

Although I was fine (and actually somewhat amused by the whole thing), it took Miriam a few moments to recover from her daze. This time she was more cautious as she moved back towards the first door – merely peeking her mind inside verses rushing in like before.

The forces were still there to confront us, but this time, Miriam (and I) were prepared for their mental onslaught. Steeling herself against their illusory blows, Miriam began to search through the room. Yet once again, she apparently underestimated the force she was contending with — for even though a vision of burning flames did not affect her, I could tell that Miriam was appalled by what she saw — a scene of total debauchery.

Lust by Neeta Patel

The room was filled images of with every kind of sexual deviance known to man: adultery, bestiality, rape, incest, and further transgressions worse than these — for this was Luxuria, and it held the Chair of Lust!  

<Ugh!> Miriam pulled her mind (and mind) back from the horrible visions and left the room.

Once again she took some time to gather herself.

“I must go back in,” Miriam said breathlessly, sucking hard at the limited air afforded by her face mask. “If Alan is there, I have to find him.” And looking up to heaven, she prayed, “Be not far off, O Lord. You are my strength!”

Cautiously Miriam pushed her mind back into the obscene room.

Visions of sexual immorality assaulted her…overwhelmed her… beckoned to her. She did her best to try to stay above the fray, searching for Alan within this madness, yet the longer she allowed her mind to remain inside Luxuria, the more that Miriam found herself being pulled towards the obsessive transgressions.

(As for me, I didn’t even try to resist. What will be, will be. And as an old man who hasn’t known a woman for what seems like centuries, well…)

Slowly, more and more of the people committing these terrible acts became aware of Miriam’s presence. They called to her, inviting her to join them, showing her the satisfaction that could be obtained by participating in this excessive love of each other.

Miriam resisted.

She kept searching for Alan, but more of the participants called her to join them — to submit to them, to forget about the future and enjoy the PLEASURE OF NOW.

Miriam continued to resist.

Yet, the scene grew more intense.

The acts more obscene.

The flames stronger and hotter.

Soon, Miriam felt herself being pulled in by the lechers. Her inhibitions were clearly weakening…

(By now, even I was getting a bit appalled at what was going on, and yet…)

<NO!> Miriam pulled her mind out of Luxuria. “Alan is not in there!” She hissed – HOPING that she was correct – and retreating away from this awful hallway.

I watched her run from the corridor and jump into the first lonely room she could find – she obviously needed time to gather herself and I knew that it would not be easy.

Nearly an hour later, after many tears and prayers, Miriam emerged from hiding and cautiously made her way back towards The Hallway of Woe — seemingly resigned to her fate.

By now, it was clear that each room, each Chair, would attempt to overwhelm Miriam with its Sin.

Understanding that she could not win this battle alone, I was not surprised to see her call upon her God, hoping that He could help her resist Temptation and thus find Alan, “But as for me, I will always have hope – I will praise Him more and more!”

Miriam then looked up at the next room – Gula — The Sin of Gluttony.

The Chair in Gula confronted us with conflicting images. We saw sins committed by those who had an excessive desire for food and by those who were purposefully withholding food from others.  We saw people eating too much. Eating too passionately. Eating everything – even THEMSELVES!

Despite her repulsion, I sensed Miriam realize that she herself hadn’t had anything to eat in over a day – and I felt her hunger gnaw at her. She started talking to herself about her next meal, then craving for some of the delicacies that she saw at the breakfast where Alan and Ma’bus dined, then desiring to fill herself with excessively costly foods, then hungering for the blood of animals, then salivating for the taboo…

(By now I was thirsting for some Jack – straight up. Please!! Very quickly I felt as if I was about to rip at my throat in an effort to overcome an unquenchable thirst)…

“Enough!” Again Miriam pulled us back. “Alan is not there.”

Having successfully resisted Gula’s temptations, Miriam took no time probing her mind into the third room.

We searched Avaritia – the Room of Covetousness. Once more a Chair confronted us with a sin against God. Here we saw the floor covered with mud, and more than a few people joyfully groveling in the dirt – totally fixated on earthly thoughts.

Elsewhere we witnessed scenes of disloyalty, deliberate betrayal, or treason – all which resulted in some form of quick, personal gain for the sinner. Looters, scavengers, hoarders – these too were out in force. Violent men took what they want. Others manipulated the weak to steal from them.

And everyone everywhere was overcome with GREED!

Once again, Miriam (and I) felt ourselves being enticed, but as soon as she confirmed that Alan was not inside, Miriam left this room and thus we were no worse for wear.

After that little victory, I could sense that Miriam’s confidence was growing.  However, she underestimated the power of “Slothfulness” and this would turn out to be a major mistake.

For it was the deadly sin Acedia that nearly did us in…

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10 – The Trap is Sprung!
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.8 Day of Doom

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Book II: Chapter 8
July 4

It was over a week before I finally found out what happened to Alan. During that time, I tried to drink myself into oblivion.

It didn’t work.

You still don’t understand, do you?

Who has woe? Who has sorrow?

Let me tell you — those who linger over their drink – watching it sparkle and rejoicing when it goes down smoothly. But, in the end, it bites like a snake and poisons like a viper. For my eyes ever see strange sights and my mind imagines confusing things. “They hit me!” I cry. And in the next breath, “But I’m not hurt? They beat me! But, I don’t feel it?” And when I wake, all I can think about is…”so when can I find another drink?”

Proverbs 23: 29-35

Yes, I have an addiction, but I happen to like it.

I was so damn drunk this past week, even if I did get a vision, it didn’t register – and that was alright by me.

But then I ran out of liquor, and being too lazy to put on a mask and activate one of my burners to use my E-Yuans in order to go to the liquor store, I found myself languishing in bed with a terrible headache.

Just as I began to get sober – naturally that’s when He snuck another vision on me…

I found myself looking in on a small flat – Alan was comatose in a bed and Miriam (masked, gowned, and gloved) was sitting beside him, “God is our refuge, Alan. Fear not – though the Earth give way and the mountains fall into the sea, we will trust in the Lord.”

Meanwhile, my attention was drawn to a small TV in the corner of the room – a German anchorman was struggling to deliver the news…

“None will ever forget June 26 – The Day of Climate Doom. It’s what our Climate Czar’s have been warning us about for years – and it’s finally happened! Current death tolls are simply beyond imagination. Japan is gone – engulfed by a massive typhoon; 130 million dead. The same monster waves also ravaged China’s coast, killing perhaps half a billion more.”

After a heavy sigh, the reporter continued, “Elsewhere, scientists have advised that a fissure caused Antarctica to break apart — sending nearly a quarter of that icy mass out into the southern seas, swelling the oceans. Flood waters have since ravaged South Africa, Australia, and South America. Little communication is possible at this time and uncounted tens of millions are suspected dead.” Another pause. “Today is the traditional Independence Day for The United States, yet that country has its own laments from the 26th. U.S. scientists are advising that the earth’s crusts shifted beneath the westernmost part of their continent, causing a giant sinkhole to open in the sea floor which appears to have swallowed the province of California. 40 million presumed dead. With their Congress and Executive branches in tatters, former President Barack Obama has taken over again and declared Martial Law to protect the country. ”

Now do you see why I was drinking so much? These are not the kind of chipper tidbits I like to hear – especially because, ever since that day, all sporting events had been cancelled!

And worst of all, on June 26, MY Phillies were playing a series against the Giants – the SAN FRANCISCO Giants!

Or should I say the San Andreas Fault Giants?

Ugh, now they’re gone too. Damn you, Bill Bates and your Climate tinkering!

Just then the newsman put down his papers and looking directly into the camera; with wild eyes he said, “This can only mean one thing: the end of the world is nigh! Prepare your souls f–—“

But the screen went black and was quickly replaced by a message in German which read, We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please bear with us.

(Ha, that old fool doesn’t know how right he is).

At this point, I guess Miriam had seen enough for she used the remote to turn off the TV. (Goodie for her – so she knows how to use a remote. Gee, she might as well be a monkey collecting coins on the streets of old New York).  Once more she looked down at Alan, lying motionless in his bed, “My soul finds rest in God alone,” After fiddling with her mask, she whispered. “He is our rock — we will never be shaken.”

Of a sudden, I got a momentary pain in my head (whether this was due to my hangover or the prophecy I couldn’t say) and as the haze cleared, I found myself presented with an array of new sights:  I was still watching Miriam, but apparently my vision had shifted back in time — for once more she dressed in black leathers, masked in a high-tech Nano Mask, and most importantly was hiding in Bill Bates new Baghdad palace’s courtyard… within the horrific statue of The Beast!

In my vision, it was now early morning and it looked as if Miriam was on the verge of abandoning her hiding spot, when of a sudden the curtains of the dictator’s parlors opened – to reveal Alan at breakfast with Dr. Ma’bus.

(Hmm, this must have been that meeting we saw – back on… June 25th? Gee, sometimes it’s pretty cool to see how these visions all fit together, huh?)

Surely Miriam must have been able to see Alan at the table, because the open windows afforded her a great view. Yet for the time being she didn’t move from her hiding spot.

We watched them dine.

Then we saw Alan’s distress over something that Ma’bus showed him on his laptop.

Then we witnessed Alan’s rejection of the tyrant’s offer of friendship.

All of this a bit of took time but even still it must have all seemed good from Miriam’s vantage point – after all, at least Alan was still alive.

However, I watched her concern grow when a beautiful young woman entered the room. There was no doubt in my mind that Miriam would view Mystery as an evil temptress – especially because the latter didn’t hide her beauty with a face mask like Miriam.

I think Miriam fully expected Alan to be put off by Mystery; however when it became clear that Alan actually recognized Mystery, and worse yet that Alan later went away with her, suddenly I saw Miriam’s confidence drain – for I knew that she wondered how any sane man could be willingly led away by such an obviously wayward woman.

(Even I had to admit from this vantage point that Alan looked like a lamb to going to the slaughter).

Even though she was wearing a mask, I could tell Miriam flinched – clearly she wanted to get inside the palace and rescue Alan, however in the bright light of day, with guards all around, and with Dr. Ma’bus still situated within view in his parlor, it was obvious she was unable move.

And so we waited.

It wasn’t until later that evening before Miriam could actually make her way inside the palace – and even then she wasn’t able to enter Ma’bus’ private section, but instead had to sneak her way inside one of the side areas that were a less guarded. Once inside, I watched her begin a systematic search of the palace, trying to find a way to relocate Alan.

It was a slow process – after all, even with her mental gifts, Miriam didn’t know where to look, and she still had to hide from countless guards – all while trying to fly under the radar of Ma’bus’ intricate security systems.  Furthermore, even though I knew that Miriam had communicated in the past with Alan using her telepathic gifts, right now she had no idea where to project her mind to and thus couldn’t locate him with this technique either.

As the hours passed, Miriam grew desperate – I wouldn’t be surprised if she was thinking about what that woman might be doing to corrupt Alan…

In her panic, Miriam began to use her Psychic Probe with more regularity – frantically questing for knowledge about Alan. Soon enough she resorted to outright violence as well.

Apparently these techniques worked because it seemed Miriam finally got some useful intelligence — after a brush up with more of the household personnel, she suddenly made straight for Alan’s cell room.

Unfortunately when she got there, the cell was empty.

An hour later Miriam found another helpful mind — gaining whispers of Ma’bus’ dungeon-like laboratories – yet when she searched there she discovered that none of them held Alan. (Luckily for Dr. Flipflop, he wasn’t to be found either).

Interestingly enough, I noted when Miriam realized that some of the cages inside the Life Labs were occupied, she did NOT take the time to help those prisoners – instead leaving those forsaken souls to God’s will, while she continued her search for Alan?

Well, nobody’s perfect.

Further probes garnered her more insights, yet all led to additional dead ends. Apparently no one seemed to know where Alan was now. And none could give any insights into the woman of mystery that had Miriam so concerned.

The 26th soon passed and as the afternoon of the 27th approached, Miriam’s haste increased and she began to use her Probe with such brutality that whoever she encountered was left in pretty bad shape (I heard later that the palace physicians were forced to deal with a number of inexplicable stroke cases that day).

And still she carried on.

Finally, while traversing one of the sub-levels again, Miriam came across a nondescript masked servant shuffling along with his head down. Given that the man was so lethargic, I thought Miriam might let him pass so she wouldn’t have to waste any time, but as he loped past her hiding spot, apparently she caught a <whisper> from the man’s mind.

Immediately then, Miriam surged inside his brain – ransacking through his mental fibers to find out if he knew where Alan was. As it turned out, he did!

Miriam discovered that the servant’s name was Iffat and he was one of Ma’bus’ personal attendants. But more importantly, Miriam learned that Iffat had earlier in the day escorted Alan, Dr. Flipflop, and Dr. Ma’bus to a hidden corner of the underground complex, to a hallway that ended in seven doorways…

To a place which held The Chairs of Woe.

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9 – Miriam’s Sins
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

The Chairs of Woe (7)

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Book II: Chapter 7
June 27

I wasn’t surprised the next day when my Sight showed me another vision of the scene back at the New Babylon.

I no longer had any questions that Bill Bates in his new persona as Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus was in The Beast I wrote about in Revelation.

And even though I didn’t want to take part in the fight against him, I found myself unusually intrigued by him – like watching a horror movie where you can’t look away…

Meanwhile, when my vision fully cleared, I saw that Bates as the self-styled Dr. Ma’bus was talking with my friend Alan – the latter still the captive of the newly created UMAN League dictator. In addition to this pair, Bates’ ever-present pawn Dr. Fauci was also on hand – acting the giddy fool as always.

“Seven Rooms. Seven Chairs.” Dr. Ma’bus said to his prisoner.

Getting my bearings I could see that it was evening – apparently a day and a half after I last saw them all, yet in that short time I could see in Alan’s face that much had occurred – and it wasn’t good.

To begin with, I guessed Mystery that had delivered on her promise. And although I was sure that Alan probably tried to resist her, in the end, Mystery had likely forced herself upon him and thus consummated his sin — much to his horror.

That ‘event’ must have happened the previous night.

Since then I’d wager that Alan had probably been left alone to wallow in his own self-pity – an effective psychological assault indeed.

Looking at the hopelessness on his face, it was easy to see that Alan was not thinking straight and I knew if he didn’t get out of there soon, his soul was going to be lost.

For a brief moment, I felt a tug on my heart, pulling me to help my friend. But I quickly squashed this – after all, Alan knew the danger of being a Keeper of The Nails – we all knew this day would come sooner or later.

Now it was simply Alan’s turn to face the music.

(Sorry if that sounds harsh but I don’t have time to coddle you anymore).

Standing alongside Ma’bus, Alan was at the end of a hallway, with seven doors forming a semi-circle to the fore.

Behind the doors, only the unknown awaited.

Just then some color came into Alan’s face and he straightened his back, “The Lord saves — let us exalt His name forever.”

Bates chuckled at Alan’s attempt to show faith, “Ah, nice try, ol’ boy, but it won’t work here. Oh sure, we both know that you’ve been able to praise your way through the storm before, but your words ring hollow on this occasion. I can sense your self-doubt, Alan. It’s gnawing at you.  This is your Moment of Truth but you can’t help feeling like you’ve already lost.”

Alan didn’t reply directly to his captor, but instead looked upwards, “Oh, Lord, how can I be delivered now? For I am already in Satan’s hands.”

Dr. Ma’bus grinned at that. “The Lord has assigned you your portion and your cup, eh? Do you accept it?”

Hanging his head, Alan said, “There is a time for everything – a time to kill and a time to heal, a time for love and a time for hate, a time to be born and even… a time to die.” At last he looked boldly at his captor, “I will not shy away from my destiny. But I also know this — The Lord redeems his servants – and no one who takes refuge in Him will be condemned.”

“That’s nice. In any case, let me have Tony take over.” Bates looked to his plandemic partner.

Putting on his best game-show host persona as he stood in front of the seven doors, Dr. Fauci boasted, “May I present – The Chairs of Woe.”

Each door had a name printed on it in Latin, which Dr. Fauci then read off, “Luxuria, Gula, Avaritia, Acedia, Ira, Invidia, and Superbia.” Then translating further, “Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride.”

“I understood you on the Latin, little man.” Alan sneered at Dr. Fauci. “The Seven Deadly Sins. How clever.”

“Well, obviously I didn’t bring you all the way here to just leave you in the hallway.” Bates laughed. “So, which one will you choose?”

Yet Alan remained silent.

“Well, we can eliminate Lust,” Dr. Ma’bus didn’t miss a beat and proceeded on his own. “You’ve already experienced enough of that from your time with Mystery, eh?” And even as Alan blushed painfully, Ma’bus piled on, “Or maybe you really DID enjoy your time with her and you just won’t admit it?”

“That’s enough, you dog.” Alan snarled.

“That leaves you six options. Which Chair would you like?” And before Alan could reply, the technocrat added, “Of course, you do understand that once you experience even one of MY Chairs, you will never be the same. Most people perish from the terrors they experience, but, I’m interested to see what’s going to happen to you…my immortal Lazarus.”

Despite flinching at the name, Alan again refused to reply.

Neither Bates or Fauci made an effort to say anything either, and so the minutes dragged by.

Finally Alan spoke – in his most professorial tones, “I gather your expectation is that, since I can’t die, once I experience ‘The Sin’ from one of your Chairs, it… will engulf my soul.” And sweating, he spoke on, certain realizations now becoming clear, “And furthermore, you’re hoping to force me to endure… ALL Seven Chairs… so that you can see if it’s possible to… to destroy the soul of an immortal?”

(Actually I was thinking the same thing — again I was sad for Alan but grateful that it was not ME in that position!)

Apparently Bates didn’t think Alan would have guessed that because he had a look of astonishment as he applauded, “My good man, you truly are a Sef de Catadre! Again I ask you to join me!” Then, holding out his hand, he added, ” Come, be my second in command. Surely I am offering you a higher post than what the Cursed One and his Son have promised you.”

“I’m not sure Dr. Fauci would welcome me taking over his spot.” Alan replied as Dr. Fauci shuffled his feet in embarrassment at Bates’ willingness to cast him off. Then Alan added, “Furthermore we both know your promises are worthless – again as Tony there can attest.

“As you wish. Again, your loss.” Dr. Ma’bus waved the matter away. Then, looking back towards the doorways, Ma’bus asked again, “Well, which room will it be?”

“A righteous man may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all.” Alan avoided the question. “After all, what can mortal man do to me? I am protected by God Himself.”

At that, The Beast finally lost his patience. “First of all, let me remind you that I am no mortal man. And secondly, if you won’t choose your fate, then I will do it for you…”

With that my vision ended. I never got to see Alan’s choice.

I wonder – which door would YOU have chosen: Lust? Gluttony? Greed? Sloth? Wrath? Envy? Or Pride?

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Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.6 The Seventh Seal

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Book II: Chapter 6
June 24

A couple hours passed, yet nothing changed for me. I was still sitting on my couch, only now I was getting ready to watch my Phillies play.

How could I watch baseball at a time like this?

Hey, if the end of the world really was coming, then I wanted to be like my friend Frankie and enjoy myself for as long as I could. After all, God destroys both the blameless and the wicked so why should I struggle in vain?

“Thanks for staying with us.” Phillies Broadcaster Tom McCarthy said from my new TV – a gift from a local charity. “We have a doozy. 5 to 2, Giants lead in the bottom of the seventh. Bases loaded, two outs, and Carlos Santana is coming up to the plate. What’s your take, John?”

“The Giants had to change their pitcher. Bumgarner was on the verge of falling apart. Let’s see what Miller can do with the mess he just inherited.” McCarthy’s partner John Kruk (one of my all-time favorite players) jumped in with his color analysis. As usual both men were doing their broadcasting virtually since in-person announcing of sporting events had long been outlawed as being (a health hazard, racist, anti-climate, or take your pick of any other number of Woke excuses).

“And…here’s the pitch from Miller… Strike one!”

I sank deeper into my Laz-E-Boy – with my Phillies losing, the game was not to my liking — naturally I blamed the broadcasters. Oh sure, McCarthy and Krukie were good, but for my money I still prefer Harry Kalas and Richie Ashburn.

Ashburn & Kalas were the perfect pair

Nonetheless, I couldn’t curse like I wanted to because over on the sofa sat one of my “friends” – Craig Wozniak. Craig was a 22-year old snot-nosed student at Lycoming College; apparently visiting me was somehow part of his internship. Like other college students of his day, he’d been brainwashed throughout his schooling with all the socialist propaganda of the times – that meant Craig totally believed in the evils of Capitalism, the dangers of Climate Change, the infallibility of Dr. Flipflop’s never-ending pandemic fear-mongering, the rightness of Wokeness and Cancel-culture, the benefits of UBI and never-ending stimulus checks without working, and similar UN Agenda 2030 garbage. Despite being a Caucasian, Craig wore a t-shirt that read “I’m sorry” – a common rag worn by the white kids of the day who’d been hammered into apologizing for their White Privilege disease – although he’d learned better than to talk to me about the why I should be supporting BLM and Antifa causes, because I’d kick him out of my house multiple times in the past for trying to peddle anything related to that garbage in the past.

Of course it goes without saying that Craig had been vaxxed and chipped early on in the Covid-era and he was completely bought-in to the importance of keeping his social credit standing as high as possible so he could keep spending with his Identichip.

Craig was also outfitted with more personal protection equipment than a surgeon facing an Ebola outbreak – he wore medical scrubs, gloves, booties, a Nano Mask and a face shield. Talk about overkill – we didn’t even treat the lepers from Christ’s time with such precaution and leprosy was a hell of a lot more dangerous (read: REAL) than Covid ever was. But such was the power of #FakeNews and #FlipflopLies at the time – they had the public scared to death of ‘double-mutant variants’ of their made-up virus, and the college kids like Craig were the most psychotic of all about the Covid Religion.

You might be wondering why I even allowed Craig into my house?

I’d asked myself that in the past too. The answer I came up with is because I felt sorry for him – like most of the youth of his day he never had a chance to create his own beliefs – Big Brother happily did that for him.

Then again, I didn’t have much choice either – I could never quite recall how I got roped in to the college’s Elderly Outreach Program, but whenever I tried to talk to someone about removing my name from their lists, I was gently reminded that all citizens were required to build their social credit. Since mine were always dangerously low, unless I wanted to have to undergo more ‘re-education’ about living in a ‘sustainable society’, I had to give up my demands for privacy and thus occasionally allow do-gooders like Craig the opportunity to come by.  

On his last visit, Craig found out that my old TV was kaput — he didn’t ever learn the real story behind what happened, but even still I think he was surprised to see the TV kick the bucket before I did!

More importantly, on his visit today he brought me a new 42” HDTV from the college’s charity and even set it up for me. (I guess these new Gen Z kids are good for something after all, neh? Although I made a mental note to myself to take the thing apart and remove the 5G tracker that was sure to be inside).

“So what do you think about your new monitor, Mr. John?” Craig admired the gift. “Want me to show you how to use the remote?”

I merely grunted.

Craig used his gloved hand to wave at the device again. “Look here, sir – now you don’t have to get up to change the channel any more. Now all you have to do is click, like this.”

“Don’t change that dial, boy!”

“Oh, sorry. So, do you think our Phillies will pull it out, Mr. John?”

“Don’t know.”

“Who’s your favorite player?”

“The one batting now.”

“You like Santana too?” Craig smiled – although I couldn’t see it because of his mask – yet I could tell he thought he was finally making a connection with me. “Yeah, he’s always been mine t–“

“No.” I interrupted. “I like WHOEVER is at bat for the Phillies because that means we still have a chance to win.”

“Oh. I see.” Craig lowered his head and tried to peek at his watch without me seeing. I knew he was pained with boredom, but then again so was I!

“Swung on…it’s a high fly ball… the Phillies might take the lead right here!” McCarthy shouted from the TV. “Back…back…BA—“

<BUZZ! BRRR!> The screen was mess of blurry lines.

“NOOOOO!” I shook my fist at the interruption.

“What’s going on?” Craig wondered as the TV refocused and we looked upon a new scene – The Phillies game replaced with a view from above a dark cave within which two men were laying in squalid conditions.

The Two Witnesses

“Gol’darnit, not another special broadcast.” (At the moment, I was so upset I didn’t really notice what was being shown).

“I don’t know, John. It looks like too strange for a news report. Those guys look like prisoners in some crazy medieval dungeon – it’s creepy.”

Looking again at the TV, I recognized the Two Witnesses and realized they were about to deliver a new prophecy – yet this only annoyed me all the more because it surely meant I’d miss more of my game.

Unfortunately there was nothing I could do but sit and watch like the rest of the schmucks around the world.

The prophets’ cell looked cold and brutal, with dirty hay strewn about the floor, and a hole in the corner for their toilet. Still dressed in those filthy burlap rags, Elijah and Enoch now had sores which blanketed their bodies. Heavy wrinkles notched their unshaven faces, and their oily hair stuck in ratted mats to their heads.

Yet it was their eyes – or rather their empty sockets — that captured your attention and made it impossible to look away. Even I was taken aback – for the more I stared, the more I felt myself being pulled into the black caverns in their faces, as if they were the passage to a forsaken afterlife.

It gave me a case of the Jimmies and sent Craig into a panic attack.

“Are they… dead?” Craig managed to eke out because gasps through his mask.

“How should I know?” I lied to brush him off.

Suddenly I saw Enoch rise up — swaying on his feet, he gurgled a bit before proclaiming, “Sixth Seals we had spoken of, yet another is to come.”

The second man now sat up, “And it too shall be broken.”

Just like that, both fell back to the ground in apparent exhaustion.

Craig fell back in the sofa, “What do you make of that, Mr. John?”

I didn’t reply — for I knew there was more to come. Peering through tightened eyelids, I grew angrier by the second…waiting for the inevitable.

“144,000 will escape.” Elijah murmured, as if half-asleep.

“Their names in the Book of Life.” Enoch replied.

“Their robes will be washed white with the blood of The Lamb.”

“ARRRG!” Both prophets cried in unison, covering their ears in a futile effort to ward off the BOOMING of great trumpets – blasts which not only pummeled them, but us as well. The rush of sound so loud I wouldn’t doubt if the world over shook from the thunder!

“DISASTER!”  Enoch wailed.

“WOE!” Shouted Elijah.

“The Seventh Seal…”  I whispered, as the seers cried it to the world.

Again the trumpets, louder than before – and I felt as if the foundation of the world shook.

The TV went dead even as Craig and I tried to steady ourselves.

“WHOA! What was that?” Craig screamed. “I’m sorry, Mr. John, but I gotta get out of here! I’ve gotta see if my family is OK!”

And I watched as he raced out – not giving a second thought to the elderly man he was supposed to be caring for.

In reality, I didn’t care that Craig had deserted me, instead I merely glowered in my chair, incensed with anger.

“Oh, God, what have I done that You oppress me like this? Why do you always spurn the work of my hands? Please kill me now and get it over with.”

(Obviously I didn’t get my wish).  

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2.5 Friends in Low Places

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Book II: Chapter 5
June 26

The next day I was sitting in my living room, trying to relax.

It wasn’t working.

I think it’s pretty damn unfair that not only am I over 2,000 years old, but worse yet, I FEEL that way too.

Can you even imagine what I have to go through?

Of course you can’t – you’re probably still in your first CENTURY of life – talk to me when you reach your first millennium – then we can compare war stories. Until then don’t even begin to think you know me.

At a time like this, the only thing that gives me solace (besides my booze) is remembering my friend Frankie.

Amuse me for a moment as I try to explain.

Frank Stoppa

Back in Book I, I told you Frankie died about a decade ago – that was years before the Covid scam – although I’m sure they found a way to classify Frankie’s passing as one of the many inflated Covid deaths and I know that he was one of the many thousands of dead people who somehow voted from the grave during the PA Election Steal fiasco of 2020 – I’m sure Frankie’s turning over in his grave about being on record as voting for the puppet that was Joe Biden (read: Obama’s 3rd Term), because I know how much Frankie always loved Donald Trump, but what can you do? What’s done is done and like I told you before, there was no chance in hell President Trump was going to be re-elected – no matter how many votes he got from his rabid fans, the Great Reset, The Brotherhood, Big Tech, and the rest of their cabal were always going to be able to produce more votes to get rid of The Donald and his America-first, anti-globalist agenda.

Thank God, Frankie didn’t have to live to see the madness of our current times – I only wish I could join him!

But enough about Frankie’s death – let me tell you about his life – perhaps you’ll learn a thing or two…

Frank Stoppa was born here in Williamsport back in 1924 to a pair of Polish immigrants. He lived a good working man’s life – retiring from a factory job at Bethlehem Steel in 1987 after 33 years on the job.

A life spent making parts for plane engines.

After leaving the factory life, Frank served as a park ranger at The White Deer Golf Course – if only because he needed something to do. I tried to join him there for a job but quickly realized I wasn’t cut out for the whole working man thing – it was just too much of a grind.

But where Frank really came alive was when he wasn’t working — at least not at his official job. For Frank Stoppa was also known as “The Mayor” – oh not of any city or township, but instead of pretty much every bar and club in a 50 mile radius of Williamsport. On any given night Frankie could be found at one of his many hangouts (and I with him) – we were members of the VFW club, The Keystone League, The American Legion, The Sons of Italy Italian Club (although a pollock Frank was an honorary member here for ‘services rendered’ – but that’s another story), his beloved Polish Club, The Park Cafe (his son’s bar), and (my personal favorite) the Gesang Verein Harmonia Club.

Harmonia Club
The Park Cafe
VFW Club

(Hey, you want to go to a place where you can get soused? Go the Harmonia – if you’re lucky enough to get in – which by the looks of YOU probably isn’t happening – sorry).

Although I didn’t know him in his younger days, Frankie always said he was quite a hell raiser. After a rough and tumble childhood, a teenage Frankie and his buddy were at the wrong place at the wrong time when a treasured antique plane ‘mysteriously’ caught fire in town — rather than stick around to endure the heat, a then 17-year old Frank left high school and his family to join The Marines.

During World War II he was a sergeant in The Corps and spent 19 months in the South Pacific – becoming known as a Good Time Charlie wherever his wings touched down.

After surviving the Guadalcanal campaign, I remember Frank telling me about how he nearly died when a bomber plane he was on crashed in the South Pacific due to mechanical failure – I also remember him telling me that HE was the chief mechanic! (Yup, that sounds like the Frankie I know).

Ever the ladies’ man, Frankie claims he had women lined up at every port along his travels. And while the phenomenon of children of American GI’s from WWII is nothing new, I think we might know who is behind the unsolved mystery of why so many people from the Solomon Islands have ‘Polish’ features – after all Frank was stationed there for a good bit of his tour and ever dreamed of going back to the beaches there where he claimed he enjoyed the best years of his life. I wonder why? Hmm…

Frank’s Island Children?

Although he later wed a saint of a woman and remained married for over 60 years, that marriage almost didn’t happen because ol’ Frank nearly outsmarted himself on one particular occasion. If I recall the story correctly, I remember him boasting to me about a time when he was near the end of his military service and he had so many women around the world that he was ‘communicating’ with that he couldn’t keep track of them all. To save time, Frank said he used to just write the same love letter to all the girls while merely changing the name of the girl at the top, yet still signing Love, Frankie at the bottom.

There was just one problem – Frank actually had the gall to send that same letter to a pair of girls who lived back here in Williamsport and who, unbeknownst to him, had become friends while he was away at war.

Imagine the scene then when these girls were at the local beach (which in Williamsport was a hangout on the shores of the Susquehanna River) and they excitedly shared with one another a letter from their boyfriends…

But there was a bit of a problem – when comparing letters the girls realized it the same boyfriend and worse yet the same letter!

Amazingly, Frankie was still able to convince one of these girls that the letter was really meant just for her and that SHE was the only one for him. (As I said, Frank was quite charming).

Indeed, that girl was Pauline Taddeo and smitten with the Frank Stoppa Bug, she welcomed him home after WWII and the pair quickly wed.

Frank & Pauline 1944

Beyond his romantic escapades, I was also continually amazed at how Frankie cheated death — whether it be that plane crash in the South Pacific, the multiple times he rolled his car down the side of a mountain here in Williamsport (usually the result of a drunken incident), or even the fact that he had smoked and drunk well more than his fair share for nearly 70 years – I’d always considered Frankie as a cat who had nine lives (but who actually used TEN of them).

Eventually I just figured that Frankie was an immortal like me…

As usual, I was wrong.

Frankie died — just like all the rest of my friends over the centuries.

Oh, I don’t remember exactly what got him.

It could have been the heart condition, the emphysema, liver cancer, complications from deep vein thrombosis, or any of the other host of ailments that he suffered from.

I don’t know and it doesn’t really matter.

But what I do know — what I remember as if it was yesterday — was this one fact…

Confident of his chances in the afterlife, Frankie was not afraid to enjoy life. He also wasn’t afraid to die.

Despite his sins (and they were many), before he passed, Frank had made his peace with God and Pauline (who’d passed away back in 2004) and he was ready to move on. When he went, it was on his own terms – like always.

His stubborn confidence in spite of the odds against him was something I will never forget. He was a good man.

Frank taught me how to enjoy life again or at least how to forget about my problem – if only for a short time — and for that I was grateful to him.

And yet, Frankie was ravaged by the effects of age – just like me. The problem is, unlike Frankie, I can’t get relief from my ailments.

I too have aches.

I too have pains.

I have a host of undiagnosed diseases that I carry with me as well. (What – you thought just because I’m immortal, I’m completely healthy? Hardly).

I have the body of a man in his eighties and I am forced to live within this decrepit husk every day of my horrible life. My friend Frank was able to pass on – yet I can’t do the same and it’s killing me from the inside out!

Do I look happy?

What’s that? How did I have the strength to pick up a 200+ pound intruder back in Book I? How does my body recover when I am injured or murdered? Why hasn’t Covid killed me?

Look, I don’t have time answers to those questions, right now.

All I can tell you is that Christ made me immortal shortly after his return from the grave and later my body stopped aging when I lived on Patmos and wrote Revelation.

Exile

Whenever I get injured my body eventually recovers back to the condition it was in when I was on Patmos – which is that of an 80-something year old, complete with all the problems of a man that age.

Does that sound fun to you?

My point in telling you all this is that it’s no fun to be this damn old!

I want some sympathy from YOU!

Is that too much to ask?

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6 – The Seventh Seal
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Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.4 Crime and Punishment

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Book II: Chapter 4
June 24

“I trust you know what you’re witnessing?” The man Bill Bates who was now calling himself Dr. Ma’bus asked.

Alan gasped, looking at the screen. “How is this possible? But how did you subdue… THEM?”

“Details. Details. Does it really matter?” The tech-czar turned dictator waved off the question. “The point is that I have all seven of the angels — The FALLEN angels. And when the appointed time comes, they will be released, along with their Plagues – giving me the power to overcome your master!”

(Friends, even though I wrote about this in Revelation 16, I didn’t really think it would come true. Ma’bus has The Seven! Do you understand the significance? Ach, for your sake, I hope that you don’t – it’s too terrifying!)

Meanwhile, Alan continued looking at the screen, captivated in horror, “Oh, look at how you have them shackled. And why did you tear off their wings – can’t you see their wounds are still festering?”

The would-be Antichrist admired the sight, while Alan turned away at last to keep from retching.

It was a gruesome view – each webcam showed one of seven angels held in a dank cell so small that the captives were forced to remain upright in claustrophobic torture; their heads were bound back so that their faces were forced to look continuously in the direction of the hidden webcams above them. Worse yet, a fiery steam repeatedly wafted up, adding to their misery.

“Their conditions are terrible!” Alan complained. “Why all that smoke?”

“Why it’s the Wrath of God — your god.” Dr. Ma’bus casually replied, the wistfully sighing, “Ah, if only Tony and I could have made Covid so effective.”

Seeing Alan turn green, The Beast added. “Surely you know your Bible. Each Angel from Revelation possesses a Golden Bowl and each bowl contains one wrath. I figured out a way to take their bowls and set them the bottom of their cells and now their wraths smoke upward – forcing the Angels to endure the punishment of their god. It’s genius, if I don’t say so myself.”

(I’m speechless — even I didn’t think someone could be so cruel).

“I don’t understand – you believe these angels are going to help you? Don’t be such a fool, Bates — why would they ever want to help you? The Angels must hate you!”

“On the contrary,” The technocrat boasted. “They love me – just like the rest of the world”

“That’s absurd.”

“It’s true. Oh at first, none of the angels were pleased about being captured. Just like nobody on the planet was thrilled about the Covid Lockdowns – but then “2 Weeks to Flatten the Curve” turned into two months and the two years and now who the hell even knows how long anymore and viola – the people accept their fate and love their captors. It’s the same thing for these angels – they didn’t like their cells at first, but in time, after I repeatedly worked with them, each of them began to understand that I was the ONLY one who could save them. Now they view me as their Savior, their Big Brother, if you will. They worship me. They live only to please me. And when the time comes, they WILL do my bidding.”

(Lord, please don’t let him be correct on that).

“You’re mad.” Alan turned away from the awful vision.  

“Who can say for sure? But that’s beside the point. Instead, let me ask you again — as I have now every day since you came here — will you help me obtain the Nails of your friends?”

“And I will answer as I have every time you have asked that question,” Alan replied acidly. “I’ll never tell you where they are.”

“Why do you resist me? Do you really think I need you to tell me that information? Surely you must realize I’m just testing you?”

Alan didn’t reply – seemingly unsure if his captor was teasing him.

“I see value in you, man!” The nerdy sociopath averred. “You still have a chance to save yourself. Jesus of Nazareth is NOT coming back. He’s dead. I tell you the truth.” And here Bates stood up and formally stretched out his hand to Alan, “JOIN ME, Lazarus, and find out what’s it’s like to LIVE!”

Alan slapped his captors hand away. “Never! I’ll never join you. Even if Jesus isn’t coming back, I would rather die than join you.”

“So be it.” Dr. Ma’bus sighed and sat down.

Alan remained standing in awkward silence, while Bates as Ma’bus merely smiled as he continued watching the Angels in constant agony on his computer screen.

After a time, and without looking up, The Beast remarked, “Don’t you think I know how to press your buttons? I know your weaknesses too, boy.”

As if on cue, the door opened and a beautiful woman sauntered in.

(I think you can guess who, right?)

This time the seductress was wearing purple and scarlet and fine jewels graced her neck, yet her long, black hair covered her face so that Alan couldn’t see her features as she walked over towards Bates and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  

It was clear that Alan was in no mood to admire beauty and thus didn’t really pay much attention when first she passed him by, but then the woman turned to face him and said in a honey-laden voice, “I missed you in Rome, Alan.”

“Teri? What are you do-“ Alan was confused. (Uh oh, he still doesn’t get it, does he?)

“Mystery.” Bates interrupted, putting an end to the suspense.

Teri shrugged at the revelation and then leaned forward to give Alan a kiss.

“Get behind me, Satan!” Alan backed away in revulsion now the he knew the truth about his former companion. “Mystery? Why, YOU are the great prostitute! The mother of all abominations.”

(And so it all begins to fit together. Still confused? Well, you know what I’ll say… go to Revelation, Chapter 17 and read for yourself).

At that both Bates and the woman laughed. Finally she replied, “Call me what you will, Alan. Yes, my true name is Mystery. Yet you seemed pretty happy with me the last time we were together…”

Alan blushed, “I corrected my error before my sin became too great!”

“Ah, your sin, is that what you’re calling me?” Mystery giggled. “Well, that’s why I’m here now, you see.”

“What do you mean?” Alan said guardedly. “What have you done with Benedict?”

“You know what I mean. And don’t worry about Benedict – he’s fine. And he says ‘hello.’ But trouble yourself not about that. Instead look at me. Don’t you see, I’m here to finish what we started – while you still have your strength.”

“Wha-?” Alan stopped.

“I think what she means,” Dr. Ma’bus said helpfully, “is that Mystery plans to sleep with you to complete your sin…before I kill you.”

“Something like that.” Mystery agreed, caressing Alan’s cheek, even as he was unable to resist this new assault on his soul.

(God save him!)

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5 – Friends in Low Places
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2.3 The Feast

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Book II: Chapter 3
June 24

Time passed and my Sight shifted.

I saw a room filled with ornate decorations from the world over. A succulent feast was arrayed atop a massive dining table and with Bill Bates himself was seated at the head of the board. Despite the multitude of chairs, only one other seat was filled – by Alan. Neither of them wore face masks – although I guess you could argue that the giant table was their social distancing tool.

(Since Bates was now calling himself Dr. Ghaz ‘al Ridwan Ma’bus and I’m tired of writing all his double names, I’m gonna just call him some version of Ma’bus for awhile).

“Soon enough you will be taken back to Room 101,” the man calling himself Dr. Ma’bus told his guest. “There you and I will finally learn to cooperate with one another. But first I have a few more things I’d like to show you – to give you a chance to reconsider your position.”

Alan did not reply, but instead reached forward towards the middle of the table and began to help himself to some of the delicacies.

Ma’bus raised an eyebrow, “Serving oneself before the Master is not polite.”

“I assume you’ll teach me a lesson,” Alan quipped, mouth full.

Ma’bus muttered something, but I couldn’t make it out; meanwhile a lone servant entered the room – he was masked and gloved and he proceeded to make a plate for the dictator.

The pair ate mostly in silence, with Ma’bus occasionally making a comment about world events or boasting about how all the food was a GMO man-made improvement over its natural counterpart. Alan never responded to any of Dr. Ma’bus points.

For my part I couldn’t help but remember a proverb that seemed to fit the situation…

Better a meal of vegetables where there is love, than a fattened calf with hatred.

Proverbs 15:17

Why do I remember so many proverbs, you ask?

Well, outside of my own writing, the Book of Proverbs and Psalms were always my favorites in The Bible. If you are looking to get some Wisdom – and who isn’t? – take a gander at these sections. It’s like reading a self-improvement book — Good stuff!

Now where were we?

Oh yes – Alan and Ma’bus.

Paying attention again, I saw Dr. Ma’bus sit back, “Ah, let’s enjoy the sunrise, shall we?” And he called to his attendant, “Jamir.”

The wall opposite Alan was covered by a giant purple curtain; pulling the cords, the masked Jamir parted the fabric to reveal a large, pavered courtyard, in the middle of which was a humongous fountain.

My eyes were immediately drawn to a monumental sculpture that bestrode the pool – a terrible Beast with seven heads and ten horns, each of the heads spewing out black water that fell violently down to the roiling waters at the Beast’s feet.

7-headed dragon in revelation

(There was no doubt that this was that same fountain where last saw Miriam hiding. Even from this vantage point it gave me the chills and I wondered if she was still hiding there?)

I realized that it was now early morning in my vision – for the sun was rising majestically behind the statue.

And I wondered…

Did Alan realize this colossus was The Beast I had warned everybody about in Revelation nearly 2,000 years ago?

Revelation 13

When my friend shuddered, I got my answer.

“I see you like it.” Ma’bus admired the statue. “It’s ME, you know. Ah, I can see you DO know. That’s good. I will make this process easier…for all of us.” Then rising from his chair, he boasted. “It’s only been a few years since Klaus, Tony, Barack, and the rest of my gang came up with the plandemic idea. Who could have imagined the world would be so easy to control so quickly? Our Great Reset has worked and I now stand on the brink of world domination!”

“Hardly.” Alan disputed. “So you rule a chunk of the Middle East? That’s a far cry from ruling the planet. Even if you are the new U.N. Secretary General, I know the American people continue to rebel against the socialist government there. And we both know Putin marches to the beat of his own drum. So where does that leave you?”

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” Ma’bus sighed. “And here I thought you were the smart one, Professor Lazarus. Do I really have to spell it out for you? Sure there are outliers. But no matter – they can’t hold out forever; it’s simple economics. After all, nearly every country has already accepted my Freedom Passes and IdentiChip. Soon enough all of them will formally join the UMAN League too.”

“Giving you power to monitor the every move of their citizens?” Alan surmised. “In exchange for what?”

“Convenience. Safety. Prestige. Smart nations want their citizens to enjoy the freedoms of all UMANity.”

“You mean the LOSS of freedom.”

“Perhaps.” Ma’bus agreed. “It’s all a matter of perspective. You know as well as I that The Third and Fourth Seals have been broken. Events are cascading forward and people are scared. Look how easily everyone on the planet gave up their freedoms and willingly endured lockdowns, dutifully wore their silly face masks, and even agreed to be repeatedly jabbed with my DNA-changing vaccines – all to escape a made-up virus that wasn’t even real! Why, Hollywood couldn’t have written such a far-fetched script! But the people wanted to be safe, you know, so Tony and I had to help them.” Then with a chuckle he added, “And let’s not forget how much they loved their they monthly UBI credits – why, they didn’t even seem to mind the wealth transfer or property repossession game we ran on them – that was my idea you know.”

Alan scoffed. “With all due respect, Dr. Ma’bus, you’re playing both sides of the fence. After all, you just admitted to being the cause of all these troubles!”

“Alan. My friend. I’m shocked.” The UMAN League ruler joked. “Could if be that you don’t really know me?” And after pausing for effect, he continued. “Or maybe you do?  If you’ve read Revelation, you know what I’m after. This is all just window dressing, a rehearsal if you will, prior to the real event.”

“You are just a rehearsal. You can’t win. Jesus will return!”

“Correction, I can’t lose.” Ma’bus said proudly. “Dear Professor, do you really think I’m only relying on mortal men to help my cause?” Then to his attendant, “Jamir, bring me my laptop.”

After the servant set up his mobile device, Ma’bus advised, “Alan, I think you’ll be interested in this – come take a look.”

I watched as Alan begrudgingly rose from his chair and walked over to his captor’s station to peer at Ma’bus’ computer.

That’s when I saw it – a sight I’ll never forget.

On the monitor, I could see what appeared to be seven webcam views – each showcasing a horrific sight, something that I knew was inevitable, but which I never believed could actually come to pass…

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Psychic Probes (2)

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Book II: Chapter 2
June 24

There’s something I think I forget to tell you about Miriam.

She has an unusual gift.

I don’t really understand it, but it has something to do with her being a kind of Body-Mind Master — she can control her body in such a way that she can overcome almost any physical obstacle.

But it’s more than just that, for Miriam is also an unparalleled Mentalist – not only can she communicate with thought alone, but more importantly, she has a strange ability to <influence> others. It’s a talent she calls her Psychic Probe – an Asmovian telepathic skill which, as she once explained, allows her to literally get inside the mind of another person, peel through their cerebral layers, and then reconnect the fibers of their brain in such a way that the other person will do whatever Miriam commands them to!

(Now do you see why Miriam freaks me out? Oh sure, she says that she would never try her Probe on me or Alan, but somehow I don’t trust her).

While I know that Miriam learned these skills ages past, she always refused to tell Alan or I who taught her. I can’t imagine it was Christ. And I don’t think it was Gabriel. I’ve often wondered if Miriam ever dabbled in the dark arts – I mean, we all have at one point, if only because 2,000 years is a hell of a long time to live – it’s gets boring after awhile, you know?

But Miriam is just so pure.

I can’t picture her doing anything other than wear a white dress up to her neck and prayer her rosary beads.

Then again, I’m currently watching her slink around like a secret agent dressed in black leathers and seemingly fully prepared to destroy people’s minds to get what she wants – so there’s that.

I guess you never really know someone until you walk a mile in their shoes, right?

But Miriam’s Psychic Probe ability is just weird, man. I believe the technique is dangerous to both her and the person she is trying to influence, but Miriam always claimed that she is so masterful at the craft that she can enter another’s mind with a touch so light that her probing will leave no memory in the mind of the subject — and certainly that it will do them no harm. But does this look like fun to you?

Mind Control at the Lego Level

Miriam once told Alan and I that her Probe was conducted in such a way that she does not act until she locates a group of fibers that have a natural tendency to perform in the manner she desires. Although she says it’s sometimes tedious to find such a group of cerebral fibers, Miriam claims she can complete a Probe in the merest fraction of a second — apparently the realm of the mind is a universe with a different timescale.

(Hey, I’m just telling you what she told me. I’m sure she’ll use it during this vision, so you can see for yourself).

Despite its effectiveness, Miriam claims she has only used her telepathic powers as a last resort in the most dire of situations — for she fears being corrupted by its power.

This is probably true, for even I will admit that Miriam is first and foremost a God-fearing woman, ever on guard against being tempted away from The Path. (And obviously far different than me).

However, the capture of our friend Alan by the Antichrist was a situation which surely must have met Miriam’s definition of ‘dire straits,’ therefore I’m sure that she wouldn’t hesitate to use her Probe as often as needed in order to gain access to Ma’bus’ inner stronghold as quickly as possible.

And so, understanding the mystery of how she maneuvered unseen, I watched as Miriam found herself in the innermost courtyard of Nebuchadnezzar’s palace, outside the window to the section of Bill Bates’ (AKA Dr. Ma’bus’) private chambers.

At present, I could see that she had shrouded herself within the confines of a statue that towered in the middle of the courtyard. And yet, as I looked upon the sculpture wherein Miriam hid, I felt my spine melt from the evil essence that oozed from the monument’s stones.

The statue was a monstrosity – carved from an unknown red rock, it depicted a beast with seven heads and ten horns. With the scaly-tail of a dragon, its giant body resembled that of a leopard, yet it was poised on humongous bear-like feet that skirted a twenty foot wide pond. Yet none of these features matched the fear-inspiring sight of the seven heads – each depicting the features of a tortured lion, whose eyes showed a ghastly mixture of fear and anger; and while each of the heads portrayed a different scowl, all of them spewed forth a black waterfall. The statue left me with one conclusion: this beast wanted to destroy any who looked upon it!

(Although Miriam and you might not recognize it, I knew that this statue as The Beast of Revelations 13! And thus I knew that Miriam was in deep trouble…)

And yet, if Miriam felt what I felt, she didn’t show it, instead she steeled herself to remain where she was, for the view into Ma’bus’ many rooms that opened up to this courtyard was apparently unmatched by any other vantage point.

Thus, despite the malevolence that emanated from the statue, Miriam kept her cover and waited – obviously hoping to see our friend Alan and confirm that he was still alive.

Was there any hope? I guessed we were about to find out…

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Book II: Chapter 3
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2.1 The Watcher

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Book II: Chapter 1
June 24

John Salem? Who are you? WHAT are you?

Such were the thoughts of a tired old man – such were MY thoughts – as I lay in bed, unable to get anything but a fitful sleep.

Caught between the dream world and the real, I cried out to God.

“I am confined to a life I cannot escape. Why do you afflict me so? All day long your terrors destroy me – and Darkness is now my closest friend.”

Psalm 88

I wailed similar other thoughts I can no longer remember and then mercifully I passed out again…a few bottles of Jack Daniels will do that to you.

An hour later, I woke up again – only to get another terrifying vision…

I watched as a silent stalker prowled the grounds of a middle-eastern palace complex. It was late, perhaps during the second watch, yet still a multitude of guards roved the stronghold. It didn’t take much effort for me to realize where this vision was…

Baghdad, capital of the new UMAN empire!

For thousands of years this city marked the center of a war-torn region, yet all that changed when Bill Bates changed his persona into that of Dr. Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus and then used his power and influence with the United Nations (and The Brotherhood of EArth) to transform the Middle East into what he called The Union of Many Allied Nations.

Since the entire region had been under strict lockdown since the Covid plandemic first began (read: all the people had been vaxxed, chipped, and were now used to living in a population controlled society) and since Bates and his Great Reset cronies like Klaus Schwab had planned to do this all along, the process was relatively easy — it simply involved redrawing some lines on a map and changing a few names on some accounts at The World Bank.

And that’s how Bill Bates became the de facto dictator of an area that included Iraq, Iran, Israel, Syria, Turkey, the Arabian peninsula, Egypt, and most of Northern Africa.

The entire process was completed in a weekend – and Bates then moved his world headquarters to Baghdad to celebrate the coup.

Since The Brotherhood had long since turned the world media into its Ministry of Truth style propaganda machine and since this was merely another step into the Brave New World of the World Economic Forum’s Great Reset towards the United Nations’ Agenda 2030, Bates’ coup was without condemnation – instead it was hailed as a world blessing. The #FakeNews media played a non-stop narrative about how citizens around the world were pleading with their governments to join the UMAN League. They also featured supporting narratives that included BLM and Antifa rioters proclaiming UMAN as the only non-racist government on the planet, as well as a cavalcade of scientists and economists who ‘proved’ that the UMAN form of government was the only sustainable way of managing the world’s resources if we wanted to prevent a climate change disaster.

In reality it was all an agenda-driven crock of crap – but since nobody asked me, I was merely another peon who was forced to continue to watch Big Brother technocrats take over the world.

As for Baghdad, once Bates as Ma’bus chose it as his capital, he sought to do what ever other totalitarian dictator in history has done by making a big production of about transforming the city into a modern technological marvel – starting with the reconstruction of the city’s most imposing building — the 600-room palace of King Nebuchadnezzar II.

Overlooking the Euphrates, and shaped like a ziggurat, the new palace Ma’bus built was situated upon very locale where the ancient Babylon king’s palace also once stood. With some of Nebuchadnezzar’s original bricks still rising a few feet above the earth, Ma’bus’ workers installed countless more sand-colored blocks — inscribing them with the words…

Ma’bus, protector of the UMAN race.

The monstrous hilltop fortress was surrounded by lush Eden-like gardens, reminiscent of the famous Hanging Gardens that were known as a wonder of the world for centuries. Spanning more than five football fields in width, Ma’bus’ complex showcased a limitless array of impressive towers, arched gates, and majestic stairways. Lavish in the extreme, many of the walls were painted with 360-degree murals painted in honor of ancient Babylon, Ur, and the Tower of Babel (not to mention more than a few of Ma’bus himself – although even with his Muslim robes and hat, the pictures of the ruler still looked a lot like the nerdy Bill Bates version to me).

Nebuchadnezzar’s Palace – Rebuilt by Ghaz al’Ridwan Ma’bus

Yet none of this ostentation mattered much to me and clearly not to the silent stalker I was watching – for I knew she was not here to admire the architectural beauty of Bates’ new realm, but was instead was on another mission.

After all, although the world now view this Dr. Ma’bus as a leader who was on fire for world peace, you and I know better now, right? And I had to assume the little spy I was observing knew the same.

And if, by chance, she hadn’t known about Bates’ nefarious side before her arrival, surely she must have realized it by now — for with practically every step of her covert journey through the dictator’s palace grounds she was confronted by an in-your-face military presence – as the UMAN League capital was patrolled by menacing guards trained to shoot first and ask questions later. (Something the #FakeNews naturally never talked about).

And yet, none of the guards even noticed our spy — for I’d already watched as this unwelcome (and as yet unknown) intruder had no trouble slithering her way over walls, past the eyes of countless patrols, and eventually into her present hiding spot. And while I was not all that surprised to see her be able to pull off a stunt like this, I’m sure you must be wondering how she managed to penetrate Ma’bus’ defenses so easily, right?

I suppose one could argue that it’s not completely unthinkable for a lone intruder to scurry past a host of wandering guards.

And I guess it’s its theoretically feasible for such an invader to bypass the many other security systems — provided they knew all the checkpoint codes, the secret passwords, and had knowledge of the other miscellaneous security challenges.

Yet even then, the assailant would need quite a bit of luck as well, right?

However I say what’s possible in theory is far from likely in reality!

Unless of course the invader has more than luck on their side.

Such was the case for our friend Miriam Magdala – you remember her from Book I, right?

And so it goes – we get to start today with a vision of Miriam!

Lord, help me, there’s not enough Jack in the world to get me through that!

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