At long last I awoke — it was nearly 10am my time and a cardinal was chirp, chirp, chirping just outside my bedroom window.
“SHUT UP!” I screamed at the red-smocked bird, before pulling a pillow down over my head – to no avail. “Ah, hell, it’s time to get up anyway.” And I reached a hand over the side of my bed and searched for the bottle of Jim Beam that was usually rolling around on the floor.
I thought about Alan – clearly he was in dire straits based on my last vision of him being accosted by those three goons. You might guess it had something to do with violating Covid curfew but I knew better – he’d just retrieved his Nail from the CEC Catacombs the timing couldn’t have been worse for Alan – it was no coincidence that those murderous men had appeared when they did…and it had nothing to do with any virus.
Despite that recent cavalcade of visions about my friend, I was left with nothing but questions about his present situation.
But let’s be clear here – I’m no sucker.
You know as well as I that He is trying to peak my interest and draw me back into The Commission. But what He doesn’t seem to realize is – I DON’T CARE! I keep trying to tell Him that but He doesn’t listen.
All my life He’s been force-feeding me these visions. Oh, I’ve fallen for His games in the past. I’ve tried to do His Will – but it never gets me anywhere. It’s a damn waste of time, I tell you.
You understand that don’t you? Please, if you learn one thing from me, learn this – don’t fall for His tricks.
Will Eisner “A Contract with God” c 1978
So Alan’s in trouble, huh?
And now I suppose He wants me to go and save him?
Sorry, not going to happen.
Oh sure, Alan is my friend, but let’s face it, he’s a big boy. He knows what’s at stake for holding one of the Three. And, really now, what’s going to happen to Alan anyway? You know as well as I that they can’t kill him, so what can they do to him? Nothing. That’s right, nothing!
So, why did He even bother to waste my time showing me those visions anyway?
As YOU are my witness, I’ll say it again – GOD, please leave me alone!!
Unable to wake up, I was forced to keep watching my vision of my friend Alan talk with his associate Teri. All this talk about Bates nee Ma’bus taking over the world was a bit much.
I’m an old man and just want some peace. The fact of the matter is that so long as I can keep watching my Phillies play, I don’t really care who runs the world. Now that my team has signed Bryce Harper I’m still expecting a World Series or two so I don’t have time for all this talk about the Antichrist…
Unfortunately He doesn’t care about what I want (as usual), therefore I had no choice but to continue to endure more of this unwanted revelation…
I watched as Alan tried to dispel Teri’s accusations. “And The United Nation’s political practices have been nothing but peaceful. Hell, they’ve even satisfied the Israeli’s! If Mr. Bates and his foundation is driving that then I applaud him. Did you know that the Grand Rabbi’s have invited him to enter The Great Temple at a special ceremony later this year? Furthermore, I happen to know that Pope Francis, Pope Benedict, Rabbi Metzger, and the Ayatollah have taken strides to re-unite their faiths as well – did Bates help initiate that talk too? If so, let me be the first to sing his praises!”
“It’s is all a lie!” Teri burst out. “Francis is clueless on this issue and Benedict does so only for show. It’s a case of keeping your enemies closer. Oh, if you only knew what I know.”
“So tell me!” Alan whined.
“Bates has helped the United Nations secretly build an arsenal of over 200,000 Fire and Brimstone tanks.”
“I’ve heard of no such thing.”
“He’s hand picked four primary military commanders who will orchestrate a population annihilation — he calls them the Four Horsemen.”
“Of the Apocalypse?” Alan laughed. “Come, come, this is hearsay. Surely these tidbits would be newsworthy if they were true.”
Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, by Victor Vasnetsov, c1887
“I see — again with the conspiracies? What about Newsmax and its ilk? Wouldn’t they shine a light on your story if it was true?”
“That’s not even worth a reply – you know The Brotherhood controls the news media. Nothing negative about Bates ever gets out.”
“Rinky dink outfits like that have no power to tell the truth. Why are you being difficult?” Teri grabbed his hand. “You KNOW this fits. Bill Bates IS the Antichrist!”
“Is that all?” Alan pulled his hand back.
At last, Teri went for broke (and surprised even me with what she said next), “Bates has the seven Chairs of Woe in his palace — that means he controls the Armageddon Clock.”
Alan remained calm, yet long moments passed as he stared hard at his assistant. Finally he asked, “Teri, how do YOU know all this?”
“My father was Reverend Antonio Abbracciavento – renowned for his knowledge of one particular book…”
“Revelations,” Alan filled in the blank. “Yes, I was sorry to hear about his passing last year.”
“Thank you. He was a good man.” Teri bowed her head. Then after a pause, she admitted. “I’m not really a Professor of Antiquities.”
“I know.” Alan smiled.
“What? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I figured Benedict has a message for me?”
“He does!”
“Go on.”
“Being a Professor is just a cover; I am a member of The Vatican’s Secret Police – the Personal Attaché for Benedict. The public may think Francis is the chief now that Benedict’s retired, but I’m sure you know the truth – Benedict stepped down so that he could focus exclusively upon his life’s mission. And his mission is now my mission too — to find and stop The Antichrist.”
“I don’t envy you. That’s a tough draw.”
“Come on, Alan. You know I’ve been groomed for it since birth.” Teri said, shoulders back, chin high. Then, pulling a scroll from her baggy purse, “In any case, here is a letter from Pope Benedict XVI. As you can see, the papal seal is still intact. Even I haven’t read its contents.”
“I’m sure.” Alan smirked as he took the missive. Yet before opening it, he tested her once more, “But, why me, Teri? What can I do to help?”
“Alan, don’t play me for a fool. Who else has published the papers on ancient religions and recurring Armageddon’s than you have? I know it’s hard to believe that Bates is really the Antichrist, but I tell you that Benedict IS convinced. You must talk to him.”
“I see.” Alan said, non-committedly.
“Look here. Is it possible that Benedict and I are wrong about Bates? YES. Hell, Alan, we HOPE we are wrong. But, what if Bates IS indeed Satan’s son? Don’t you see, we need your knowledge — you may be the only man who can stop him. That’s why Benedict specifically told me to find YOU.”
Alan remained silent for long moments, before saying, “Well it would seem that you do know quite a bit about The Antichrist. And Bill Bates. Now whether these are the same person, I cannot say.” Before Teri could interrupt, he continued, “But, it would seem that Mr. Bates MIGHT fit the profile, neh? So what do you propose?”
“Read the letter. Benedict wants you to come to Rome.”
“Ah, but I thought you hadn’t read the letter?”
Teri blushed, “I was truthful when I said I didn’t read it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t guess what is says.”
Alan rolled the scroll over — it did indeed carry Benedict’s imprimatur. Breaking the seal, he proceeded to read the short message. “You are correct. Benedict requests my presence in Rome. And yet, he does NOT say anything about Mr. Bates being the Antichrist.”
“You know he could never put something like that in writing under his papal seal!”
“So I am to take your word for it all then?” Alan smiled.
Teri’s jaw jutted out, “What are you going to do?”
“Do I have a choice? Of course I’m going to Rome.”
“Really?” Teri’s face lit up.
At last Alan smiled warmly again. “It was not my intention to give you a hard time, Teri. I can see that you really do believe what you say. That DOES mean something to me.”
Relaxing at last, Teri smiled, “I know it’s late, but why don’t we go to Karl’s Café and enjoy a Bugle to release all this pressure? After all, your time here in Bucharest is obviously over, so let me buy you one last drink.”
Although Alan remained silent, he did not decline. “Oh Hell, why not? But just one, OK?”
“You have my word, Professor.” Teri smiled.
(Somehow I knew she was lying).
Now, in my opinion, a man can do nothing better than to eat, drink, and find satisfaction in his work. Therefore, I was not surprised to see Alan and Teri leave the University and head for Karl’s Café – a speakeasy frequented by the elite of the University crowd who wanted a private venue within which they could enjoy a nostalgic pub that was from a bygone time – namely a place where patrons could enjoy a drink without having to wear face masks or be socially distant.
Karl’s was an establishment that was kept hush from the public since the citizens of Bucharest (and around the world) had long been forced to live in that New New Normal world that had been ushered in with the first Covid plandemic – a world in which large social gatherings were outlawed because of the fear of spreading the virus. Of course, since such laws were more about population control than they were about science, the academics who partnered with the state to produce that made up science and add the weight of their credentials to support said science, also enjoyed the privilege of being able to flaunt the rules – so long as they did it in private. Karl’s Cafe was one such venue that met this need.
Earlier Alan and Teri had vexed one another during their debate about the Antichrist, yet all of that seemed to be behind them now. Hours soon passed and they shared more than a few drinks together, until…
<<RING! DING!> The bartender gave the last call.
“Whoa!” Alan raised his hands to steady himself at the bar. “Clearly all these Bugles have gotten the better of me, eh, Ter?” And he smiled as he laid his head on her shoulder.
“Oh, Alan, tomorrow is so unknown. I’m happy we shared this time, but what will happen now?”
Alan smiled back through a misty haze and sighed, “Yes, I wish this night would never end.”
At that, Teri placed her hand softly on Alan’s knee and whispered into his ear, “It doesn’t have to end yet…”
With Teri’s allure racing through his veins, Alan apparently found himself unable to resist her offer.
(Now, as I told you before, I have no control over these visions and it’s not like a TV where I can change the channel. I get what I get. In this case, it appeared that I was about to see my friend get intimate with his work partner. Gee, I’m not sure the University would approve, Alan.)
Less than twenty minutes later, the pair were in Teri’s cramped apartment, on her bed, undressing one another between passionate kisses.
“Oh, Alan,” Teri gasped, ripping off her blouse to reveal a purple brazier, “I’ve wanted this since the first moment I saw you.”
Pulling her close, he kissed her deeply, “You’re lips taste like honey.” But then I saw him pause – just for a moment, and although I could not read his thoughts, I knew him well enough to make an educated guess about what just happened – he’d seen a vision of another woman!
(If so, I knew who it was. For now let’s just call her a beautiful brunette of Hebrew descent and what you need to know is that this person was Alan’s dream girl).
I watched Alan struggle as his mind was playing tricks on him – perhaps making him believe this other woman was calling out to him, reaching for him at last. For a moment, I knew that Alan’s heart leapt at the thought…
Yet, just as quickly I could see his soul sink – for if he did get a flash of his lost love, then I knew that seeing this other woman would only cause an old wound to be ripped open.
In the end, it was Teri who broke the spell, kissing Alan on the neck and bringing him back to the present moment. Apparently this worked, because Alan refocused his attention on the beautiful woman before him, growling hungrily as he kissed her back, “I’ve never seen a beauty like you.”
“Let me show you more, Professor,” she said in a husky voice, pulling Alan down to her.
(Whoa, hold on there, Alan, did you hear what she just quoted?)
Suddenly Alan pulled back from the point of no return, “What did you say?!?”
Shocked at the break in their passions, Teri struggled to take in Alan’s retreat. “What? I don’t know.” Then, kissing him and attempting to pull him back, “Come, lover, come to—“
But Alan remained apart. I don’t know if he realized what Teri just quoted from or if instead he felt guilty due to a flood of images of that Hebrew woman, but regardless I heard him say, “I’m sorry, Teri. I can’t do this. It’s wrong for me to disrespect you like this. I’m so sorry.” And he hurriedly gathered up his things.
For a moment, I thought Teri would try to stop him, yet interestingly enough, she did not. And even as Alan hastily threw on his clothes and continued to apologize, Teri remained uncovered on her bed.
As Alan opened the door to leave, Teri merely slithered, “See you in Rome, Love.”
OK, let me stop for a minute here because I can see that you are having a bit of a problem. So go ahead, let’s get it out on the table – ask me your questions…
Who am I?
Well, I told you, I’m John — John Salom.
How do I get these revelations?
Again, I just told you the answer to that too – I don’t have any control over my visions, I get whatever He sends me. Apparently He still thinks I care.
But take a look at this and tell me if YOU’D like to keep seeing stuff like this for over 2,000 years?!?
Hieronymus Bosch The Last Judgment
How do my revelations work?
I’m not really sure, except to say that I have received them both during the day while awake – kind of like a daydream – and at night while sleeping. Nonetheless, while hours or days could pass during a vision, when I return to MY reality, it’s as if only the blink of an eye has passed.
Who is “He” that gives me my revelations?
I was waiting for you to ask me that.
Would you think I’m crazy if I said that “He” is Jesus of Nazareth?
Oh, so you DO think I’m just a crazy old man, huh?
That’s fine – it means that we finally agree on something!
What’s my mission?
Actually it’s called The Commission, but from my perspective I don’t have a mission anymore because I am long past caring.
Well what WAS The Commission?
Hmm. You’re not ready for that answer yet.
Why am I telling you all this?
Well, let’s just say I am doing a good deed as part of my penance.
Now why He couldn’t have just let me say 1,000 Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s, I don’t know, but this is what He came up with – said it would be ‘a good use of my talents again.’ I guess YOU will have to be the judge of that.
Teodor Axentowicz The Anchorite
Where am I at right now?
Ha — you’re definitely not ready for that!
OK, enough with the questions. Gee whiz, we’ll be here all night if we don’t keep moving on.
Meanwhile, half a world away, another older gentleman was also in a good mood…
(Like I said before, you’re just gonna have to take my word on it as to how I know things like this. Let’s just say, I have visions – oh you can call them revelations if you like but to be honest I’m a bit tired of that term. And no my visions are not some crazy side effect from the Covid vaccine – there’s plenty of those to go around but this ain’t one of them. Don’t worry about how it works, I’ll explain more in a bit, but for now, it will be easier for both of us if you would simply let it be and trust me that I AM telling you the truth).
And so I watched as Joseph Alois Ratzinger was nearing the end of a rare public appearance. In this case the ‘public’ aspect was via webcam since virtual news had remained the norm due to the never-ending pandemic. More importantly though, does the NAME of the man ring a bell for you?
If not let me help you. Officially ol’ Joe had retired in 2013, although I knew he’d tried to get out of the rat race long before then – in fact even before he had stepped down from the ‘big chair’ Joe often told me all he really desired was to “rest, maybe write a bit, and perhaps enjoy his old age.”
The fact is, Joe had never wanted to rise to the top of his profession in the first place and, prior to attaining that rank, he’d actually gone so far as to submit his formal resignation on three separate occasions — yet each time his prior boss had talked him out of it.
I told him countless time to just quit and be done with it all, but he didn’t listen to me and in the end, Joe had remained obedient to his superior’s wishes eventually he became The Big Boss himself.
Even still, it’s common knowledge that Joe’s allegiance to his company has done nothing to help his health concerns. His past and present conditions read like a laundry list of serious medical dilemmas:
hemorrhagic stroke in 1991;
serious fall and head trauma in 1992 (I can relate to that one!);
another stroke in 2004;
chronic heart palpitations and a case of serious bronchitis in 2006;
a broken ankle in 2009 (and when you’re 81 years old that’s a big deal);
he was living now with a pacemaker and chronic high blood pressure;
and the list went on and on – poor Joe.
All of these aches and pains lead to his formal resignation in early 2013 – and while it’s not newsworthy when most people retire, for my friend it was a big deal.
If you don’t know my friend yet, let me clue you in…
Joseph Ratzinger is perhaps better known to you as Benedict XVI — Pope Emeritus of the Catholic Church.
As for his ‘retirement,’ did you know that Joe was the first pope to step down since the year 1415?
For you math wizards that basically means that no pope has voluntarily retired for over 600 years – they’re pretty much expected to die in office.
As for that previous abdicator, it was Pope Gregory XII – I’m sure you don’t remember him, but trust me when I tell you that when Gregory XII stepped down it was was a really big deal back then – oh the scandal! Believe me I know, after all I was there to see it all.
But Joe is cut from a different cloth – he had no intention of letting the wolf pack otherwise known as The College of Cardinals salivate around his death bed while they conspire around him on who will be the next Pope.
Instead he came up with a new exit strategy – install a puppet for his figurehead and wield power behind the scenes – after all he’d seen Dick Cheney do this very effectively during the GW Bush Administration of US Politics and I’m sure Joe figured he was at least as smart at the gun-totting American VP.
Enter Jorge Mario Bergoglio – the charismatic Jesuit from South America was the ideal solution for Joseph. Jorge took the name Pope Francis, Joe happily passed the baton to him, Francis became the doll of the news, and Joe sailed off to the sunset. The perfect cover for a man in power.
Which brings us back to today – with Joe having to endure an interview from the fake press.
Knowing he only had a short time left in this world, I knew how much Joe despised wasting any of it on personal interviews like the one he was presently enduring – that’s what the new guy Francis was supposed to be for. Yet somehow Joe had apparently agreed to do this appearance and thus here he was, trying to maintain a happy face in front of his computer.
“Do you have any final words for the people of America, Your Eminence?” The virtual interviewer asked. “Although the United Nations and World Health Organization partnered with governments around the world to help us build back better after the first pandemic, our planet continues to struggle from the devastating damaged caused by capitalism for so long. Many in my country of America still fear the partnership between the United Nations and The Bates Foundation as they roll-out an Identichip that’s tied to a ‘one-world’ digital currency. I’m talking here about the groundbreaking Crypto Yuan that’s endorsed by The World Economic Forum and its members as not only a replacement for the outdated US Dollar but a new kind of currency completely – one that not only offers the benefits of first-generation cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin, but also adds the all-important social credit system to the equation so that we can help ensure our citizens live their lives in a globally sustainable manner. Do you favor or oppose this new currency system?”
Realizing that this was the final question from his prep list, my friend’s face lit up and he exhibited the charisma which had undoubtedly been the reason why he had been elevated to his present position…
“My children, if we let Christ fully enter our lives, are we not afraid that he might take something away from us too?”
And after a pause, Joe answered his own question, “No! Don’t you see, if we let Christ in, we lose absolutely nothing of what makes life free, beautiful, and great! Instead, only in this friendship with Him do we experience liberation. When we give ourselves to Him, we receive back a hundredfold in return! Focus not on your personal liberty. Forget the reality of your present lockdown life. Do not pine for what once was. Instead, I say open wide the doors to Christ – and you will find true life. We are all ONE people. ONE Body in our Lord Jesus Christ. If this is true, why not have ONE currency? Nay, even ONE world government! My Children, there is nothing to fear and only peace and freedom for ALL to gain…”
Less than an hour later, I watched the Pope as he relaxed in private in his apartments.
(BTW, I’m still going to call Joe “The Pope” because, as I’ve already mentioned, Joe continues to pull the strings in The Vatican and thus the figurehead that is Pope Francis is barely in this story).
While alone, Joe disregarded his formal papal garments – his red satin mozzetta, wide-brimmed saturno, and yes, even those neo-traditional red papal shoes that everyone thinks he fancies.
Do these look comfortable?
Oh those colorful shoes! I remember how he had worked hard to bring them back to popularity (with the help of Prada and a sizable “donation” to Joe’s personal rainy-day fund!), yet each time he wore them now, I knew that he bitterly despised them – for he always complained how they were so uncomfortable. (I kept telling him to try them on before he endorsed them, but once again he didn’t listen to me.)
Nonetheless, The Pope was now dressed in a luxurious silk robe, whilst plush slippers caressed his overworked feet. Letting the cares of the outside world melt away, I watched Joe press a button to deactivate all the cameras and interactive media devices in the room, after which he traipsed over to his wet bar and poured himself a tall glass of a German honey-flavored liqueur called Barenjager.
(Personally, I’m not a fan of German liqueurs, I like the harder stuff – Jack, Wild Turkey, a good grain alcohol, any of those and some ice will do the trick for me – but Joseph was always a connoisseur. In terms of this present liqueur, he previously explained to me that most Barenjagers that were exported from Germany were between 60-90 proof, however, given his position, Joseph now had access to a private label reserve from Teucke & Koenig, and as such, his version – called Barenfang – was actually a 95 proof product – much to his delight).
As he took a big sip of the drink, Joe smiled as he looked upon the label on his bottle – a cartoon of a bear drinking the liquor – a picture far different from that shown on most of the commercial bottles of Barenjager (which usually showed a fur trapper catching the bear).
“Give me neither poverty nor riches, but only my daily bread.” As he finished the smooth spirit and poured himself another, “Ah, and a little of this stuff too, neh?”
Strolling over to the corner of his living room, he sat down at his Fazioli grand piano. Immediately no less than three of his feline friends scampered to join him.
(Yuck — I absolutely hate cats! But Joseph had long had an affinity for them and as such the Vatican had become quite infested with them since he rose to power. Francis tried to quell the tide but so far had been unsuccessful – the cats still ruled).
“Amadeus, come here…. Adolf, you rascal! Ah, and, Deter, my love.” He happily nuzzled all three. (Deter was always his favorite, but don’t ask me why – they all look the same to me). “OK, boys, let me play for you, please.”
And after taking another sip of his Barenfang, I watched as my friend proceeded to lose himself in his music – whilst his cats curled up against him and purred contentedly.
Yet suddenly one of the cats hissed, causing the other two to bound off in fright. “What is it, Deter?” Joseph stopped playing and looked down at his friend, seeing the cat’s entire body bowed up.
“I believe that’s Mozart’s Piano Concerto Number 21.” Said an unexpected voice that I didn’t recognize.
“His music is by no means just entertainment,” Joseph replied, without turning around. “It contains the whole tragedy of human existence.” For a brief moment, his body tensed at the intrusion, whilst he whispered, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do…”
And yet, outwardly, he refused to let his surprise show; instead he took another long sip of his drink, placed Deter on the floor so his friend could scamper away to safety, and then smiled as finally he turned around to face his visitor.
“Ah, I see there are two of you this time?” The Pope commented dryly, observing his guests.
Both men were dressed in black robes, Nano Masks, and gloves – although I knew that neither was a member of the clergy or on staff at the Vatican. Their ebon garments and face masks clashed terribly with the stark whiteness of their skin, their fair hair, and their light eyes. Stoic and stiff, they might well have been twins for all that they looked so much alike, and yet, like me, Joseph knew they were not.
“Hello…Your Grace.” One of the men stepped forward, his voice sounding clear due to the masks high-tech design.
The Pope did not reply. Nor did he bother to put on gloves or a mask himself (like me he knew masks were useless). Instead Joe followed protocol, rose up to stand before the intruders, and then proceeded to offer his bare hand in formal greeting.
Despite the outdated (and now illegal) form of greeting, each of the gloved men took the Pope’s hand and shook it, being sure to allow their middle finger to entwine with his during the shake in order to verify their identity.
“The Viper coils…” One of the men said.
“And its strike is deadly…” Added the second.
“To the uninitiated.” The first man finished the greeting.
“Bruders.” Joseph smiled slyly, “Welcome. I was expecting you. Don’t worry, we are unwatched and can speak openly”
My vision of the Pope and his ‘friends’ continued, and an hour quickly passed while the conspirators conversed. German was the language spoken at this meeting – native to all three — but I had no trouble following along. Given their continued wearing of masks, I realized these were only low to mid level operatives, so I was curious as to why Joe would even be bothering with them.
“The date, Your Grace?” Asked one of the masked men.
“Ah, that’s the beauty of it.” Joseph smiled. “I assume you know about the meeting at Mount Moriah?”
“You mean Har haBáyit – The Temple Mount?” The other Brother questioned.
“I’m surprised that you would know the Hebrew word,” Joseph snickered. And before either of the men could reply, he continued. “December 21st. That is the date. And the mosque at al-Aqsa there on the mount is the site.”
(Please understand I had no idea what they were plotting so this was all news to me. Sure, I get these revelations but to be honest they are not all that revealing if you ask me. It’s not something over which I have any control – whatever He chooses to send me is what I get. Also I am not omnipotent or anything. Hell, I don’t even have control of when the visions appear! And when I’m watching, although I can see the people pretty good and hear what they are saying, I can’t read their minds or anything so I don’t know what they are really thinking. Thus, I had no idea what Joe was up to).
“You are certain?” the second assassin slithered, the sound of him sucking air through the ventilator holes in his mask repulsive.. “There can be no mistake. If BAVI is really The One, then he must be there.”
“Fool.” Joseph replied. “You need not worry about my intelligence findings. Marrollo has assured me that BAVI will be there. And yes, he IS the key figure. After all, it is his blood which will complete the… ah… Grand Ritual.”
(Hmmm. Was I watching a plot to assassinate someone? And with the old pontiff at the head? Who was this BAVI they were talking about? It was obviously a code word and given that Joe had deactivated all The Eyes in his room it had to be someone important. I’ll admit, it was interesting, in a passing fancy sort of way, and had I been younger, I might have still cared about the implications of what they were discussing. However, as it was, whether Joe and his buddies killed one man or a hundred, that was their business. Nobody can give me what I really want so what do I care what happens to BAVI or anyone else?)
“The whole world loves BAVI – just like he so desperately wants.” The first assassin mocked. “Why he might as well be The Second Coming for all the praise he is getting.”
“They will grow to dread him soon enough.” Joseph replied.
“Remember — though the wicked spring up like grass, they will be forever destroyed in the end. When our plans are completed, BAVI will be reviled for the villain he truly is.”
“And the Jews are on board with all this?” The first man laughed, his loose tongue perhaps showing some of the effects of the Barenfang.
“That’s the beauty of Marrollo’s foreign planning.” Joseph explained, taking the other’s glass away from him and setting it down. Yet, after thinking twice, he picked the drink back up and downed it himself. (That’s my boy!) “That’s too good to go to waste.” He smiled, before getting serious again. “Chief Rabbi Metzger believes he is really the one responsible for setting up the December 21st event. It’s all part of BAVI’s grant to support Metzger’s Interfaith Dialogue mission. Why he’s already erected an altar on Temple Mount to mark the new holiday that will be created.”
“And you will be there too, Your Excellency?” the first man was salivating in his excitement.
“Naturally, for Metzger has asked the Ayatollah and I to join him in consecrating the grand altar to The One True God that we all serve. And BAVI will be the guest of honor in recognition for his many technologies saving our world from so many disasters.” And with a chuckle Joe added, “However manufactured those crises might be.”
“Glory be! I can’t wait to see BAVI delivered upon the altar to the destiny he deserves.”
“I suppose Evil comes to him who searches for it, eh?” The Pope let the thought hang ominously, even as all three conspirators nodded to one another and smiled.
(Just then my vision ended. Interesting? Yes, but like I said, had I cared, I probably would have made arrangements to visit with Joe and get the scoop. As it was I was just thankful when the vision ended so I could get some sleep.)
Few have seen but a glimpse of Hell, a tatter of Revelation, yet for me it was my Daily Bread; well, that and a good bottle of Jack, and maybe a PBR or two…
My name is John and I’ve got a major problem – again.
Just a few minutes ago I went down to check the mailbox. As always, I waited until the delivery drone was gone – I can’t stand those little spies and I don’t like risking The Eyes seeing me without a face mask on (the last thing I need is another do-gooder from the Elderly Outreach Center paying me a visit to teach me about the benefits of wearing a face mask, how it’s my patriotic duty to keep getting vaxxed against the latest Covid variant that fear-mongering media keeps pushing, and other nonsensical hogwash).
Since the mail delivery location on my farm was down the drive about a football field away from the house, even a casual walk like this caused me to sweat, and I by the time I reach the box I could feel my hair begin to stick in stringy mats to the back of my neck – just perfect.
Worse yet, as soon as I looked down at my stack of mail, I knew I had a problem, because peeking forth from all those damn propaganda flyers about the benefits of the Identichip was an otherwise nondescript piece of airmail — the sight of which sent me into a coughing fit.
Now I wasn’t expecting any letter from overseas and there was no return address, yet even before opening it, I knew who it was from.
“Damn her for doing this to me.” I dropped the rest of the mail and proceeded to tear open the small note. And as new rivulets of sweat poured down my back, I read the following…
1492 is coming for you – MM.
For a moment, a chilling force gripped me – turning my spine to water and causing me to cower down in fear. Yet, the moment quickly passed and when it did my blood began to boil, “She should know I don’t need this crap.” I spat at the letter, before ripping it to shreds and tossing them into the yard.
When I got back inside, I briefly considered changing clothes – I stunk and I knew it. However it had only been three days in these overalls so I wasn’t about to toss them in the laundry pile just yet.
Now, lest you think this I’m just lazy, think again.
OK, OK, it’s true, I always was a bit lazy and laundry was never my thing, but even if it was, it’s not like I had much choice – we were in the middle of another detergent shortage and I wasn’t sure when my next supply ration would be delivered, so rather than worry about washing my clothes I instead got a six pack from the fridge and proceeded to park myself on the raggedy Laz-E-Boy in my living room – thanking my stars that there wasn’t a beer shortage this month.
Off in the corner, my turntable was playing a Jim Reeves’ record – the tune Welcome To My World was presently on, yet the volume was turned down low so that it didn’t compete with the TV since I was still waiting for the baseball game to start (thankfully the government still allowed us peons to have our sports – at least for now).
My electric rations had been reduced again because of the on-going ‘save the planet’ climate battle, so I had the shades pulled down to try to get some measure of relief from the sticky heat that still clung to the evening air. Sure, I could have used some of the stored energy from my solar panels, but I preferred to save that for my tv watching and music – after all, you gotta prioritize right?.
And so, sitting in that half darkness, I picked up my copy of The Williamsport Sun Gazette. Why or how the newspaper was still being printed I couldn’t say – I’m sure it was to try to influence old farts like me who didn’t go online much to believe in the government’s propaganda, but that didn’t work with me because I simply tossed aside everything but the sports section – since that was the only part that could tell about my beloved Philadelphia Phillies.
As I read, I took a sip (or three) of my beer – good ol’ Pabst Blue Ribbon — and settled in to watch the upcoming game. But then, just as the local news was about to end, suddenly the station was interrupted by one of those God-awful, fear-mongering, #FakeNews Special Reports…
“Good evening, friends. We interrupt your local programming to bring you an update on today’s landmark speech by Bill Bates.” The anchorman spoke in that silky baritone they all seem to be born with. “Who is like Mr. Bates? That is the question on everyone’s lips as the world continues to praise perhaps the greatest philanthropist and mental genius of all time!”
“What do I care about Bill Bates?” I screamed at the set, pissed at the interruption.
I supposed I could have just ignored the news and focused on my paper instead. Or maybe you think I could have changed the channel – but let’s not get carried away here – we’re talking about an off-the-grid ’68 Zenith, so changing the channel required getting up to fiddle with a manual dial, and that’s not for me.
Oh don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I still live in the Dark Ages – I know all about cutting the cord on cable and I briefly tried using a Roku for streaming but I didn’t like it – first off because I’m not about to use my UBI credits for a subscription to streaming services that are full of a bunch of programming I don’t watch, and secondly because streaming is just another invitation for Big Tech to monitor me and I’ll pass on that.
That’s why I kept my rabbit ears – sure they’re illegal but who’s gonna know? I get all the local programming I want with that old-time antennae and since nobody ever visits me before I have time to hide them, I had those ears presently perched on a black box that sat atop the tv, next to that unused Roku.
At first I tried tuning out the TV anchorman, but his voice just kept droning on, “As everybody knows, The Bates Foundation’s vaccines saved our world from the Coronavirus pandemic that started back in 2019, and their Vaccine Passports have given us many of our freedoms back.”
What a crock. I thought. Does anyone really believe this nonsense?First off, I never understood why a vaccine was necessary against a coronavirus like Covid. Didn’t people realize that we’d been living with coronaviruses for centuries? Why would someone want to take a vaccine that has a higher chance of giving them a side effect than it did of actually preventing them from getting the virus? And why did we need to take a vaccine to ‘get our freedoms back’ when we should have never lost them in the first place? No thanks. I’ll pass. Call me an anti-vaxxer if you will, that’s fine. While all the sheep believed the media’s lies and rushed to get their vaccines so they could virtue signal on social media, I chose to follow the real science and let herd immunity get me through a bout with Covid. After all, the with it’s 99%+ infection-survival rate, the virus was never a threat to me (unfortunately) and even it had been, I wasn’t about to take one of Bates’ mRNA vaccines because they only thing they did was turn a bunch of people into Covid factories and spread the virus faster through the planet. Call me crazy but I’m not one for having my body used in a science experiment – at least not by someone else.
Meanwhile, the news reporter was still droning on. “The world still mourns those who had negative immune responses to the early vaccines. It’s important to remember that The World Health Organization has assured us that those who passed away back then didn’t die from the vaccines, but instead from other comorbidities that may have been plaguing them at the time – unfortunately their immune systems were so weak that not even the vaccine could save them. Thankfully for the rest of us, the Bates Vaccine Program saved us from the pandemic – that’s what The Science tells us and if there’s one thing that the pandemic taught us it’s to Follow the Science, right?” But then, turning serious, the newsman warned. “Unfortunately I regret to report that not all is well with the world – the illustrious Dr. Flipflop has warned again that many supporters of our shameful ex-president Donald Trump are continuing to refuse the latest Covid Vaccine – believe it or not, some people have never even had their first dose! It’s shocking, I know. That’s why the good doctor is sounding the alarm – don’t you see, friends, the actions of these insurrectionists are endangering us all and if–“
“Bah!” I cursed, feeling the wrinkles cut deeper into my face. “Who cares about Doctor Flipflop peddling his never-ending vaccine programs against all his made-up variants? Tell me about my Phillies!”
<SMASH!> Glass shattered across the kitchen floor behind me, followed by the sound of someone banging against the door.
“What the hell,” I sputtered to get up. “If those Robinson twins are trespassing again…”
Yet even before I could turn around, suddenly rough hands were upon me; and before I knew what was happening, a black-clad intruder pounded a hard right into the side of my face – knocking the Phillies cap from my head and filling my mouth with blood.
“Umpf!” I moaned, even as another blow sent me crashing into the TV, where I became entangled by those god-forsaken rabbit ears.
Unable to stop my attacker from jumping onto me, my efforts to ward off his blows were futile.
“It’s taken me too long to find you, Baron.” My intruder straddled over me, his face completely covered by a heavily tinted Nano Mask. “You may not know me, but you sure as hell know what I’m here for.” And with that, the goon unsheathed a nasty-looking dagger from his belt, “As fish are caught in the cruel net, and the bird taken in by the snare, so men are trapped by evil times that fall unexpectedly upon them, eh…Bruder?”
My eyes lit up for a moment at his quote from Ecclesiastes, not to mention his reference to The Brotherhood, but most of my attention was captured by that blade. Yet I never got a chance to reply, for just then my attacker stabbed me!
Again and again and again the intruder forced his knife into my torso — seven times in all — leaving me a mangled mass of blood and pulp.
Death was NOT a fun experience, let me tell you — it never is…
The Last Temptation of John 