Rapture 2: This Time It’s Personal

edited by ANDREW HICKS

So where were you for the Rapture? Check this out for big hairy man-balls – not content with the whole “meeting Jesus in the clouds” thing, I got on a plane over the US and flew up to meet the dude at the Reality Turnpike.

Nothing. Nada. Not so much as a sacred sandal. Which leads me to a question: considering all the vast wealth accumulated by churches that follow the guy’s alleged teaching, has anyone thought about buying Jesus a really kickass alarm clock? Because he seems about as reliable as a twentysomething stoner after a major bong sesh. Hmm… note to self: contact Mel Gibson re: The Return of the Christ, starring Seth Rogen…

Dude, where's my apocalypse? DUDE!

Anyway, so there I was, thousands of feet in the clouds, waiting for His Nibs to make an appearance, and of course, abbbbbsolutely nothing happened. Well, technically, a couple of people tried to kill themselves or their loved ones (the logic of which is what, exactly? Avoiding the lines at the Pearly Gates?), but other than that, the world – just like Jesus – missed the memo that it was Game Over, and kept turning as previously advertised.

Except something really disturbing actually did happen in the aftermath of what I think we can justifiably call The Anti-Climax. Because Harold Camping, chief idiot of the We’re All Doomed Tabernacle Choir, went on TV, and when asked what he was going to do now nothing had happened, his answer was truly staggering.

“Ah, but it did,” he said. “The Rapture came. But it came spiritually, rather than physically.”

Now in previous, more cynical generations, I don’t think I’d have been alone in my shouting at the screen and spitting Cheerios across the floor at that point. But the interviewer just said, “Ah, I see,” and let Camping shift the date so that the whole shebang now kicks off on October 21st.

“Wha-huh?” I spat. “You can’t do that? Nothing happened! You can’t just say, ‘Oh, it happened, but you just can’t see it’! Oh and by the way, the Emperor is freaking NAKED!”

Except apparently, now, you can. You can say something incredibly stupid and be told it’s incredibly stupid on national TV, and then effortlessly double down in the stupidity stakes and apparently be allowed to get away with it. And I know I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Look around and scratch your butt twice, and there’s Little Sarah Palin — The Nazi Walton — on the TV once again, refusing to shut the hell up or be eaten by wolves in a bizarrely structured revenge attack.

I can see Paul Revere from here...oh no, wait, it's the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

“Paul Revere warned the British they couldn’t take our guns,” she said.

“Paul Revere didn’t warn the British…”

“Ya-huh he did. He warned us, and he warned the British. He just rode all over the place, warning everyone, like a great big warney thing, and you can’t ask me what I took from visiting his birthplace, ‘cos that’s just Gotcha Journalism, so nehhh…”

“Thank you…”

Maybe Camping’s right – maybe the world is doomed after all.

So now it’s eyes down for a full Apocalypse on October 21st. T’riffic – I’m due to turn 40 on October 22nd. This is starting to feel more than a little personal.

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