[go to last page for latest developments]
1.10 am From May til October
All true believers in Christ will be raised to Heaven in what is known as the Rapture. That day, the end of the world, Judgment Day, the Rapture, is today, May 21, 2011. For the rest of us, starting May 22, we will witness the first day of Hell. And that Hell will continue for five months, until Oct. 21, 2011, when all the world will officially perish. So, if you actually survive the next five months of unbeliever hell on earth, and if you can withstand the tsunamis, massive earthquakes, and volcanoes, not to mention the absolute destruction of the global economy, the end of supermarkets and easy food, and the beginning of a world filled with roving mobs and a true ‘survival of the fittest’ world, even if you get past all of that for five months, you don’t win anything and you will still expire in late Oct.
Can you imagine the last few ragged and determined humans who have made it through the worst of calamities, have seen the destruction of all the world’s civilizations as they pummeled themselves to death over the final resources of the world, and have earned their right to live by keeping alive for five months of hell, perish just because it’s Oct. 21, 2011? This would be the ultimate Survivor, and then everybody loses anyway.
1.23 am Naysayers & Cynics
I hear a lot of naysaying out there. I hear George Noory on Coast to Coast AM telling people nothing is going to happen as today, May 21, marches on, and that he would bet the ranch that nobody is going to be raptured. I hear a lot of cynics out there, but let me ask you, George Noory, and anybody else out there who thinks they’re too rad to believe in a little mathematical Bible study and the end of the world, let me ask you, have you seen this?
I didn’t think so. And I don’t think anybody reading this blog at this bewitching hour is laughing now. That’s right, a mysterious crater was blown out of the ground in suburban New Jersey. The hole is 18 inches deep and about the size of a coffee table. These are not good signs for our civilizations and for the non-believers. This crater is an ominous signal.
1.34 am Loud & Vicious Tranny, a Strange & Peculiar Sign
Another awful, portentous sign is the episode at Ralph’s grocery store the other day, where a vicious transvestite in a powered scooter chair chased down and attacked a small Asian woman. Please read that here. And nobody, not even me, helped the poor Asian woman while she was mauled by the beastly tranny in a power scooter. Humanity deserves to be punished. Ominous signals from beyond.
1.39 am Are you people ready?
I rolled in at 12.30 tonight, and next door to me a movie is being shot. Beautiful actresses in white robes are running around on the sidewalk, and an empty house is lit up. A balcony is bright in a blinding spotlight, and inside I imagine the crew is shooting a wild sex scene.
Don’t you people know it’s Judgment Day? I shouted from the sidewalk. I’d been drinking, and that seemed a logical enough thing to shout. Are you people prepared for the apocalypse?
The actresses stopped to look at me. I waved and tried to look serious. The overweight security guard, all that stands between gorgeous women and lunatics, ran toward me. His fleshy cheeks bounced with each footfall. A living zombie, I thought, and perfect for the last ‘normal’ night on earth. I thought about running at half speed, almost letting the security guard catch me, but always speeding up at the last second. Like a scene from gym class all those years ago, when the fat kid chased that nimble skinny kid.
I fled the scene and escaped into my apartment complex. One of the actresses looked like Megan Fox.
Foxy even til the end.
2.04 am PKD
I’m still safe in my apartment, and I haven’t felt any earthquakes, although I am in Los Angeles and I feel the ground will rumble soon. I want to say, in fact I’ve already declared it out my window, that if all the real Christians are gone by 6 o’clock this coming afternoon, then I’m going to just slowly eat all the food in my apartment and read Philip K. Dick. I have every one of his novels, and I’m going to start with his first and read until I finish, or I am finished.
Remember, there will be a scarcity of food, ammunition, fuel, and love after May 21. We’re doomed, but we always were.
2.07 am Radiated Flesh
Charles Bukowski wrote a poem called ‘Dinosauria, We’, and I think it’s completely inappropriate for a night like tonight. A night perched on the end of the world. A night that will be the final physical darkness before Judgment Day. Hear it spoken by Chuck and put to a beat by DOOM.
Born like this
As the chalk faces smile
As Mrs. Death laughs
As the elevators break
As political landscapes dissolve
As the supermarket bag boy holds a college degree
As the oily fish spit out their oily prey
As the sun is masked
Born like this
Into these carefully mad wars
Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
Into bars where people no longer speak to each other
Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings
Born into this
Into hospitals which are so expensive that it’s cheaper to die
Into lawyers who charge so much it’s cheaper to plead guilty
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes
Born into this
Walking and living through this
Dying because of this
Muted because of this
Because of this
Fooled by this
Used by this
Pissed on by this
Made crazy and sick by this
The heart is blackened
The fingers reach for the throat
The fingers reach toward an unresponsive god
The fingers reach for the bottle
We are born into this sorrowful deadliness
We are born into a government 60 years in debt
That soon will be unable to even pay the interest on that debt
And the banks will burn
Money will be useless
There will be open and unpunished murder in the streets
It will be guns and roving mobs
Land will be useless
Food will become a diminishing return
Nuclear power will be taken over by the many
Explosions will continually shake the earth
Radiated robot men will stalk each other
The rich and the chosen will watch from space platforms
Dante’s Inferno will be made to look like a children’s playground
The sun will not be seen and it will always be night
Trees will die
All vegetation will die
Radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
The sea will be poisoned
The lakes and rivers will vanish
Rain will be the new gold
The rotting bodies of men and animals will stink in the dark wind
The last few survivors will be overtaken by new and hideous diseases
And the space platforms will be destroyed by attrition
The petering out of supplies
The natural effect of general decay
And there will be the most beautiful silence never heard
Born out of that.
The sun still hidden there
Awaiting the next chapter.
2.10 am Cursive Prayer
2.11 am Imagine all those people
Imagine you’re one of those people in Harold Camping’s ‘camp’ and you really truly sincerely and genuinely believe you are going to be swept into Heaven this coming afternoon, May 21, 2011, the year of our Lord (almost literally). Imagine if you surely knew you were going to be taken in the rapture. Wouldn’t you be shitting your pants right now? I am, and I know I’m not going to be saved.
Not anymore. Not after last night.
The fear and anxiety must be tremendous. To truly believe you are going to meet your Maker. And to know (the Althusserian kind, where you feel it in your gut and it reflects in your actions) you will float to Heaven today. What a spectacle, floating high above your neighborhood, maybe some of your family members will wave up at you, and you will wave down at them.
To see your city get farther away, and you have to realize this is the end. You will never see X city again. Onward and upward! Goodbye grandma Maybelline and father Gustavus. They just didn’t believe hard enough! Well, fuck em!
Float. Float. Float.
To see the curve of the world, to be pulled beyond earth’s atmosphere and into space, and finally into that mystical sphere so many irritating people call Heaven.
Or, maybe the true believers will just dissolve and their clothes will drop to the cement. Their tattoos will turn to warm ink and splatter the sidewalks. The cars being driven by believers will crash into other cars, houses, and non-believing pedestrians.
It’s going to be a miserable affair when all of this happens. The rapture may rid the world of some of its most irritating citizenry, but the catastrophe and chaos will almost not be worth it. Blood will flow freely in the gutters, and eventually we will be eating our fellow humans. Or we will be eaten.
2.31 am Says Allah
A close contact of mine has told me this in relation to the rapture of May 21.
Everything perishes but the face of Allah.
If that’s true, this whole May 21 Judgment Day thing doesn’t sound so novel.
2.32 am Fire in Koreatown
For those of you who are with me, holding me hand through this very tense and drastic biblical time, I must take leave and let go of your hand. But only for an hour or two! I’m going to take my 1-gallon gas can to the station and fill her up. When I get back with the gasoline, I’m going to pour it in the street, along the gutter, and then light it. In Koreatown. The Koreans love a good fire, and they appreciate explosions. Or so it seems.
I want to get things started! And nothing like a river of fire to get the locals out of bed. Los Angeles will be burning, but why not? We’re nearing the end, so we might as well get some blazes out of it. Show God we’re ready.
See you soon.
11.59 am Out of Jail, Finally
Marvin picked me up. Bailed me out. $300. I promised I would show up to court. “That was everything I had in savings,” Marvin says. [read about Marvin and the transvestite]
And I’m very appreciative, I tell him. Don’t look so downcast. You’ll get that money back. We are driving in Marvin’s old Corolla. His 1400 strands of hair extra greasy. He’s biting his lips.
The LAPD is pretty good, and those cop choppers keep a close eye on things. I got the fire started, and to my credit, it was in an old abandoned lot. I poured out a very massive pentagram and lit it. Gasoline burns better than I’d thought. With a puff and a rush of air the lot was ablaze, and before a minute had gone by, police sirens were wailing.
I sat in jail for about 8 hours. The LAPD apparently hasn’t heard of May 21, 2011. Nobody in the LAPD will be raptured by 6 this afternoon anyway. Bunch of heathen assholes.
Anybody gone to Heaven yet? I ask Marvin?
“Cynthia’s missing, and she was pretty Christian.”
You just thought we was pretty sexy, that’s all. What do you mean she’s missing?
“She hasn’t answered her phone. We were going to get a shot of wheat grass also.
“But in her early days, she worshiped long haired men who looked like Jesus. I think that counts for something in this rapture. And I remember one of them in the 70s had an acid trip where he lived out the stations of the cross. But she knew a lot of men, and they all looked like Jesus.” Marvin pauses. “Kind of like us, brother!”
He is warming up. We have to do a fist pound.
12.12 pm Official Charges
“What have you been charged with, officially?” Marvin asks.
Where are you taking me, by the way? I live back there.
“We’re getting that shot of wheat grass, finally!” Marvin slaps the steering wheel and almost runs the car’s tire on the curb.
I don’t want a shot of wheat grass! I want to go home so I can Tweet about the latest developments from my computer, and not this phone. It’s May 21, you know.
“It’s the end of the world every single day for somebody out there.” Marvin shouts, “Tae Kwon Do” out his window at an older Asian lady who is slowly walking and carrying bulky plastic grocery bags. “Anyway, what were your official charges?”
Trespassing onto private property. Destroying private property. Starting an uncontained fire within city limits. Inciting a riot.
“A riot?” Marvin asks.
Large fires make people go crazy. Thankfully everybody was sleeping. Except for the police.
These charges are amplified under the Patriot Act, you know. The last charge was inciting the rapture. I told them it’s already been incited. By Harold Camping, who looks a lot like the legendary William S Burroughs.
“That scary bastard with the orgasm machine?”
Camping, or Burroughs?
Marvin doesn’t answer, but we are at the health food store. We would finally take that shot of wheat grass together.
12.32 pm White Boy in the Sun
I read aloud to Marvin what I found about the developments of Judgment Day. I’m reading from Justin Elliott’s Waiting for the end of the world… at Salon.com:
“Camping — the octogenarian numerologist whose calculations spawned a worldwide movement (of indeterminate size) devoted to warning non-believers to prepare for the return of Christ, or else — recently told a reporter that the end of the world would begin at exactly 6 p.m. on May 21 in each time zone around the globe. That means the end should be beginning right about now in the South Pacific archipelago of Tonga, where it’s 6 p.m., May 21, 2011.”
Elliott wrote that last night at 10pm. I think he’s being a bit cynical, I tell Marvin.
“Bunch of cynics!” he says, “either calling for the end of the world, or trying to debunk the end of the world.”
Marvin knows everybody in this health food store (I will not give away the location, but it’s in Koreatown). Marvin fist bumps everybody he sees, and if he doesn’t know them, he tells them I’m his long lost brother, and that I’m constipated about the end of the world being today. Everybody is friendly to me, but it’s possible they just don’t want to be unfriendly to Marvin’s estranged younger (much younger) “brother”.
“Tae Kwon Do!” Marvin orders us a shot of wheat grass and we take it. Marvin wipes his lips with his sleeve and says, “Bitter.” Marvin points at a young Korean woman. “You like her?” His voice is high pitched and he speaks rapidly and fluently, sometimes it seems like he’s rapping to no beat. “You like the Asian woman, bro? Did I tell you I haven’t dated a white woman since 1982? First and last. Never again.”
Outside, standing in the sunshine, Marvin says, “We’d better get you home.” A crowd of people holding paper bags and some pushing carts look at us. “This is white boy,” Marvin says, pointing at me, “and he don’t like to be out in the sun.”
1.06 pm Should Be Half Way Around the World Already
By my calculations, I tell Marvin, the Rapture should be halfway around the world already. But it’s not. The Geological Survey’s minute-by-minute tracker shows a series of magnitude-5 earthquakes, but that’s it. Nothing to shake the dead from their graves and produce an all-holy gore fest of redemption and re-stitching of decomposed bodies as they shake and rattle their way toward Heaven. It should be well on its way.
“Maybe we’re in the clear already,” Marvin says, “but then again, May 22 will be just as bad as May 21. We’re still murdering our fellow humans in all parts of the world, and we’re still polluting the rivers, lakes, oceans. We polluting the air. We’re still cutting down all the trees. Killing the bees.”
All right, Charles Manson, I say.
“I’m just saying, we’re still in grave danger, and it doesn’t matter what day it is anymore. Our end is coming soon, whether that camp guy predicts it or not.”
Camping, I said. Show the bastard some respect, please.
Marvin parks his car outside my apartment. “I have some friends in that apartment, and we should visit them. They can tell us about the Rapture, and if they’re waiting for it. Plus, the wife makes some killer beans and salsa.” Marvin raises his eyebrows. “She’s also got good,” he pauses, puts his hands to his chest and wiggles his fingers, “chi chis.”
1.14 pm Bible Verse While Waiting
I read aloud to Marvin: And there were voices, and thunders, and lightning; and there was a great earthquake, such as was not since men were on the earth, so mighty an earthquake, and so great.
That’s from Revelations 16:18. And basically, I’m waiting for that.
“Sounds like Japan.”
1.24 pm Serious Signs of Impending Doom
Marvin’s “friends” appear to be a family of eight that he once met at the market. The Sanchez family. Mrs. Sanchez answers the door and say she doesn’t want insurance, no thank you, already got it, but thank you. Marvin thinks she’s being coy. “Beatrice,” he exclaims, holding out his arms. “Beatrice, come on, it’s Marvin. I don’t sell insurance, I work at the food store. My brother here is doing some reporting on the looming Judgment Day, and I said there’s nobody better to interview than the Sanchezes.”
Hi, ma’am. We can leave, you look busy. I try to peek around her. Strange smells blow out from the cramped apartment. More than a dozen eyes blinked out at us from the dimness. A commercial can be heard from the television.
“It’s the end of the world,” Marvin says, “haven’t you people been paying attention?”
It’s OK, Marvin, we can leave, I started saying, but Mrs. Sanchez waves us in. I could tell she barely recognized Marvin, but there was some recognition. “They can’t turn down anyone,” Marvin whispered in my ear. His mustache tickled my cheek.
We sit on the floor, in front of the couch. There are children everywhere. Very nice family. A different child offers us something different every minute, it seems. Cans of soda, bags of chips, chocolates, licorice. Marvin finally asks if maybe Mrs. Sanchez could whip up a couple burritos. “Vegetariano,” he says, “for two vegetarian brothers.”
On the television there is more news of geological violence and despair.
It’s started, I tell Mrs. Sanchez. Mr. Sanchez comes out of the bathroom without any clothes on. He’s got a big belly, and for a second he stands naked in the hallway looking at the two white “brothers” sitting amongst his fine legion of children. After a moment he skips down the hallway in a flash, faster than I would have predicted any man with such a heavy front load could move.
“Think we embarrassed him?” Marvin asks. “I smell those burritos,” he shouts behind him. “Mrs. Sanchez, you are a goddess. Your Mister better watch out because you might have two white boy suitors after you.”
This is serious stuff, Marvin. A wild volcano going off on the day of Rapture is ominous. This isn’t good news.
1.42 pm Of course the Huffington Post is live-blogging the Apocalypse. Of course they are!
The Huffington Post says it’s over. The possibility of the rapture happening on May 21st. The Huff Post live blog (not a great blog) has reported that around the world a new day (May 22) has started, and the rapture hasn’t happened. And instead of May 22nd being a worse Hell than before, we instead find ourselves in the same Hell.
Predator drones, secret military raids, an unstable Middle East, a monstrous and brutal West (plus Israel).
I don’t tell Marvin any of this. I want to keep him interested in the Rapture. It’s nice to have such an enthusiastic friend, and he also knows where to get good acid in a country where good acid is hard to find. Yes, I need Marvin, and I will keep him on my side.
Marvin, I say, do you think American exceptionalism plays into this May 21 rapture thing? Marvin is chewing the butt end of his burrito, and like so many politicians in this country, that end of the burrito looks exactly like its front end. I mean, I explain to Marvin, that the rapture is only going to happen here in America? Or, I mean, if God is really running this show, then it’s possible the news isn’t reporting those who have been raptured already. I mean, Judgment Day could be well on its way, and MSNBC, or CNN, or those pesky and very intelligent writers at Salon.com might just not have access to the rapture already.
Marvin moans. I’m assuming he’s drawing pleasure from his burrito. The burritos are quite good.
What I’m saying is that if the South Pacific Islands had started reporting rapture results, like we lost 616 Christians, we think they were raptured, then the rest of the world would go apeshit bonkers crazy. God doesn’t want a bunch of last-minute Christians repenting. Then he’d have to take them, even though they don’t deserve it. So maybe each country, according to time zone, gets hit in secret. I’m not counting it out, not yet. America might have her rapture. Judgment Day will be brutal in this country. 6 pm. I’m still excited, even if the naysayers aren’t.
“Great burritos,” Mrs. Sanchez. Mr Sanchez is sitting on the couch. I’m situated on the floor between his legs. He’s a comfortable, loving man. He’s happy we’re here, I can tell.
“But really,” he keeps asking, “you’re brothers?”
“Yes, sir,” Marvin says.
And I don’t have the heart to correct him.
“Give me a bite of that burrito,” Mr. Sanchez says.
“No way!” Marvin says. “Have your wife make you one.”
2.28 pm Music for the End of Time, or Any other Time
The Internet is getting shaky and Firefox keeps freezing up. I’m getting bad vibrations, and those burritos are sitting heavy in our stomachs. Marvin has sixteen cans of soda and multiple bags of chips around him because he is too gracious to turn down anything the Sanchez children offer him.
If you’re looking to set the mood, here is Music for the End of Time, an article written by Michael Segers. Mr. Segers provides you with plenty of links to begin your quest for end times music.
Go ahead, set the mood, and I’m going to find an open outlet to plug in my iPhone. It’s almost dead.
2.36 pm They’re already gone in Missoula
I can’t believe what I’m seeing on the Sanchez’s television. A disturbing picture provided by CNN shows what might be the first signs of the rapture. They have already left in Missoula, Montana. And I thought there were only heathens in Missoula. They certainly know how to make a good cup of coffee in that town. As good as anywhere.
I point to the TV and look behind me to see Mr. Sanchez’s expression.
“Seen it before,” he says, waving his hand.
Marvin has disappeared into the kitchen. I don’t see Mrs. Sanchez around anywhere.
2.41 A Comforting Piece
Here’s a quiet, reflective short article by writer Dan Rudy. It’s called Gods and Mountains. It’s serene, amidst this chaos.
Mr. Sanchez seems unperturbed by his wife and my friend’s disappearance. Here we sit, with all his children.
2.50 pm A message from Jordan
I received a message from my brother (my real brother, not Marvin) today. My brother lives in Jordan. In that message he writes that he’s spent the entire day and evening in the Jordan River awaiting the official sign from God. My brother is a serious man, and he knows that spending any time in the polluted river Jordan means either skin disease or rapture. And, in his case, probably both.
Mr. Sanchez, I ask, is your family going up in the rapture?
Still no sign of Marvin or the Mrs. Mr. Sanchez clears his throat while his crowd of children huddle around him.
3.02pm Can’t Save Em All
“Here’s how I see Judgment Day,” Mr. Sanchez says. “I’m a devout Catholic.” He lines up his sixteen children. He looks at me. “We got sixteen people, and if I’m God, I have to decide which of those sixteen are any good. Which are the fruit, and which are the chaff. OK. You. You. And you,” he says, pulling three of his children from the row of sixteen.
Something bangs in the kitchen. Sounds like a metal pot.
“These three are saved. The other thirteen are not. That’s about right for the world, I’d say.”
That’s a horrible statistic, I say. Thirteen will perish, only three saved?
“Those aren’t my rules,” Mr. Sanchez says. “Those are God’s rules. Got to damn the most to strike enough fear in the rest.”
We all sit again, on the floor, on the couch, on the arms of the couch.
3.15pm The Surest Sign Yet
In Tennessee, a controversial proposal to build a mosque (a mosque! in America!) has been given the go-ahead. If anything speaks to the end of the world, and to the coming of Judgment Day, this is it. From MSNBC. Sixteen months of fierce and fiery debate, and in an epic loss of America’s religious freedom, the mosque has been approved.
This is one point for Harold Camping and his Family Radio group.
3.30pm Mami Mami Mami!
The eighteen of us are watching television. Seventeen of us are watching it lackadaisically, and I’m watching it while grinding my teeth. I haven’t even had coffee this morning, they didn’t offer me any in my holding cell at the police station.
No news about anything strange on the East Coast. No news of rapture or Judgment, other than normal, anyway. But that makes sense. The East Coast is populated with a bunch of heathens, and the only Christians over there are fake ones. Wait until the rapture rolls through the Midwest. God’s network is going to get plugged for a few minutes. At least that’s what the Midwest likes to believe.
The TV says: “In local news, a 26-year old man was arrested for starting a large fire in an abandoned lot in Koreatown. Police say they saw a bright blaze and when they checked it out they found a man holding a gas can and peacefully watching the fire. When asked if he started it, the man replied that he had, indeed, started the fire. He then began ranting, according to police, about Judgment Day and the Rapture. Police haven’t determined if he’s a part of the Harold Camping organization or not, but he seemed distressed. The LAPD helicopter said the fire was burning in the shape of a pentagram. He has been charged with nine counts, including one count of inciting a riot, and and one count of inciting the Rapture. The man’s name has not been released. “
Awful people in this city, I say to the Sanchez family. From the kitchen there is a lot of noise, suddenly.
“Tae kwon do!” Marvin shouts, and then, “mamacita, mami, mami, mami!”
Mr. Sanchez stands and the children scatter to the darkened areas of the living room. I make a break for the door.
4.21 pm The Latest from Camping
I’m at home now, and I can’t say for sure what happened to Marvin. I imagine he will smooth-talk his way out of whatever he needs to escape from. Meanwhile, here’s the latest from the Harold Camping, May 21sters: Nothing.
The Huffington Post reports:
For all the hype leading up to this, countless broadcasts and a sprawling nationwide campaign, the airwaves of Christian station Family Radio are oddly silent with May 21, 2011 finally here.
Maybe those people are in Heaven already. The masses will be teeming, but the door to Heaven will be narrow, and very few will enter. Or float upward. Or just disappear. Dissolve. Combust. I’m not sure anymore what’s going on. It’s been a long day. And I’m going to jail next month, I’m positive.
5.06 pm Not Even
Even the Midwest is untouched by any extraordinary reports of rapturous departure from this earth to Heaven. It’s almost fishy how quiet everything is. Maybe, since the Family Radio organization (Harold Camping’s) is in California, maybe 6 pm Pacific Time will signal the beginning of the rapture, and then it will work itself around the world.