What’s going on with my friends, or with Pope Benedict, Bill Bates, or any of the other host of lackeys who used to haunt my visions?
Good question.
It had been months since I last ‘saw’ any of them, yet without my Sight, I was reduced to a commoner like you for my news – that meant I either had to watch #FakeNews on the few stations my OTA antenna picked up or I had to setup the Roku again and tune into Newsmax for the truth. Since I didn’t want to notify any of the 5G sensors in my area with the Roku’s pull on the internet, I chose to sift through the fake news channels to start.
Look, I realize that I haven’t done a very good job of keeping you apprised of world events. In my defense, the happenings of history do tend to move in repetitious cycles and after 2,000 years it all runs together.
But even I knew that times were different now – and I believe that the rest of the world was finally starting to believe that too.
Oh sure, throughout my life I’ve seen the charlatans like Homer who’ve proclaimed ‘the end of the world is at hand,’ and like you, I’ve pooh-poohed them – after all, most of them were crackpots.
I too have heard the many learned men throughout the centuries who have tried to reason out the end of days by associating whatever world catastrophe with my predictions in Revelation, or perhaps that kook Nostradamus, or the Mayan Cataclysm, or something else – again, fools all.
But, there was something different going on this time and it was just the never-ending Covid plandemic!
To begin with, I knew that the Two Witnesses had already been prophesying for over three years, and if what I wrote in Revelation was correct, then I knew that they didn’t have much time left (whether the world had been listening or not).
And while The Beast may have had Elijah and Enoch hidden from view for the last couple years, when it came time to serve his own purposes, he revealed them to all – causing the world to finally understand the word FEAR.
Since then, national broadcasts and social media videos of the prophets had become an obsession – with everybody and their brother giving their opinion of what it all meant.
Add to that that on two more occasions, the prophets appeared ‘live’ and released new warnings of impending doom – both of which came true. You can imagine the hysteria that surrounded them.
I tried to look at things from the world’s perspective — how would the common man view Elijah and Enoch?
With fear and hatred.
Yes, I was certain of that – for consider that regardless of whether the Two Witnesses were merely doing their divine duty (which they were!), the fact of the matter is that they were (unfortunately) correct about everything they predicted, even this…
Ouch!
As a result, all of the terrible misfortune that the world had experienced these last few years (and especially these last few months), why all of it was associated with Elijah and Enoch!
It was only natural that the world wished them dead.
Unfortunately for The Prophets, today the world got its wish…
Having just witnessed unwelcome memories from nearly 2,000 years ago I was ready for a break.
“Ha! ‘Surely Mary won’t wait around forever?’ Eh, Peter?” I quipped to myself as I remembered what my friend said and took another sip of my iced tea (yes it was a Long Island).
“Well, it seems we were wrong about that, for hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right?”
Still on my porch, I snickered to myself with chagrin – for as I pondered the situation in hindsight it seemed that nobody got what they wanted:
Lazarus never did get Mary.
Jesus never accepted Mary’s advances.
I’m still here rotting in this worn out husk of a body.
All of our dreams have been dashed.
“Why have you cursed us like this, Lord?” And I threw my glass down on the porch – watching it smash into countless pieces, even as the remaining liquid quickly seeped through the floorboards. Overwhelmed with shame, I cried, “I am worn out calling for help, God. Will my life never end? Even if I end up in the land of gloom and shadow – even still I will go if it means I can only escape this so-called life!”
As if on cue, I noticed the radio was playing yet another one of my favorite songs – the Jim Reeves classic, “Am I that Easy to Forget?”
Guess I could find somebody, too. But I don’t want no one but you. How could you leave without regret? Am I that easy to forget?
I was about to let myself be drawn deeper into the song, when… “We interrupt this broadcast,” came the urgent words of the announcer, “with a special report about the assassination of UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon…”
“NO, not again – what about my Phillies game?”
I stewed as the Special Report was delivered — no less than thirty minutes of rigmarole about how, as yet, no one knew who had assassinated Ki-Moon (although I had a pretty good idea); that an emergency meeting of the UN had already taken place; and that William Henry Bates III (Bingo!) had already been elected as interim Secretary General.
After this, there was a short audio clip from Bates’ acceptance speech in which the beloved philanthropist explained that while his first inclination was to advise he was not worthy of such an honor, in fact he agreed to accept the nomination – at least on a short term basis – because he realized that the world needed him, and therefore he promised to do his best to lead the planet to prosperity.
Bates took the opportunity to remind people that he’d continue to work hard to help himself and others like him overcome their White Privilege disease, and as proof of his commitment to promoting BLM and Critical Race Theory goals he announced he was changing his name to the Muslim-inspired moniker Dr. Ghaz ‘al Ridwan Ma’bus. (Just like Teri had warned Alan about – although Teri missed the part about Bates taking on the “Dr.” title – apparently stealing a page from the puppet president Joe Biden’s wife’s playbook on how to give yourself fake credentials). Next this new Dr. Ma’bus explained how he would use his UN platform to protect the world from Climate Change disasters in the hopes that building a more sustainable world would eventually put an end to the never-ending cycle of pandemics that had plagued our planet since 2019.
Bates nee Ma’bus’ message was one of hope and freedom for all people in the world and he the more he talked the more he promoted himself as the People’s Savior.
Now as odd as this might sound, during the initial newscast I was quite dour – especially when Dr. Ma’bus was talking about the UN Agenda 2030 propaganda pawns like BLM, CRT, and Covid, and about his silly new name. Yet the more the Bates/Ma’bus audio clip was playing, the more I found myself getting inspired (just a bit) by Bill’s passion when he proclaimed himself to be our savior as Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus. It was a contagious sensation that I could not shake and soon enough a smile began to form beneath the scraggly curls of my beard the more I listened to Ma’bus smooth voice.
His voice beckoned me.
And then, as if the shackles of two thousand years of lethargy were suddenly released, I jumped up and looked to the Heavens. “Could this really be The Time?” I was actually hopeful. And in spite of myself, I began to praise, “When my soul is downcast within me, I will remember you. O Lord, have you returned to us in the person of the Muslim Savior Ghaz ‘al Ridwan Ma’bus?”
Meanwhile, Dr. Ma’bus continued to talk – encouraging the world to unite in brotherly love across every race and religion — and my Hope sprang even higher!
“Lord, are you him?” I desperately clutched my radio, hanging on the savior’s next words.
But then it happened, for as the applause from the crowd became so overwhelming, Ma’bus himself could no longer be heard.
“Noooooooo!” I collapsed in despair. “Don’t desert me again!”
Yet, my protests were to no avail. And when the regular newsman’s voice came back over the speaker, my newfound inspiration evaporated; once more I felt as if I was nothing more than a worthless sinner who had yet again been forgotten and abandoned.
And trudging along the porch, “Let the world take care of itself. Or let Bates’ Ma’bus persona do it. He doesn’t need me. You don’t need me, Lord. Nobody needs ME anymore.”
And with that, I went inside and closed the door – leaving even my Phillies to fend for themselves.
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 