Journal

February 1, 2001

I'm in a pure hectic mood. I've barely slept any in the last 48 hours. I met Walter at Hardee's. I've been infatuated with his breadth of prophecy knowledge ever since. I've called him a couple times and he's gone over the details of our conversation. He has a lot of pride, and rightly so, in what he's learned. And not from church workers, but just on his own, at conferences and from books. He assures me he has almost every book, and that out of each one he's gotten at least one nugget of information, some better than others. I'm hectic because I'm tired and also because I want to learn. I want to learn so much, as I know the end is nearly here. I got an unlikely sign today even listening to oldies radio from that one song by CCR "Bad Moon Rising."... where the guy says, "I know the end is coming soon."

Oh Walter, Walter... man who knows so much, and is so acquainted with knowledge. It is indeed as Daniel or Zechariah said, "Knowledge is spreading...knowing is increasing...men are running to and fro for lack of knowledge..." I'm running to you, Walter, and you are heavensent for a poor learner such as I.

My deep and abiding ignorance cannot go on. I'm dumb as a post. I thought I was smart. Once a teacher told me I had potential, that I had brains, that I was bright. Now I'm not so sure. Leon seems to think so. I probably just need more sleep. I've induced this mystical state by sleep-deprivation and now I'm sort of halfway spinning in circles, my head. Leon, Walter.... one goes one way, wants to be my disciple, the other goes the other way, me being his disciple. I'm like the middle-man in this whole economy.

It could be me and Walter who are instrumental in the plan for of the ages. And here he is a lonely old junk dealer, like on Sanford and Son. And now it looks like all the powers of heaven, all the powers of the Almighty from on high, are being concentrated in two men: three, if you include Leon. We're like a Trinity in a way. Me (Charles), Leon, Walter. With Walter definitely being top dog, me the middle, and Leon the runner-up. What Walter knows, Walter knows alone. What I know, Walter also knows. What Leon knows, I and Walter both know.

Thing is, Walter is old. He's had a lot of time for study, and indepth concentration on these things. I came to the whole "prophecy game" relatively late. I didn't know the top names, except for just the surface stuff: Edgar Whisenant, Grant Jeffries (heard the name), Jack and Rexella Van Impe, and a few others. God's at work in these folks, truly not many noble being called. I wasn't too much into it. Looking for the end like everyone just in a generalized sense. Then my friend Ben's cousin gave his little prophecy, and that turned me on to it. It sounded so convincing, even in the complete lack of details (including the possibility that Ben didn't even have a cousin....I didn't probe). Anyway, the cousin (who I assume exists and who I assume is male) said he didn't think the world could go on much past the year 2000. I've gone with that, and added much conjecture on top of it.

Then Walter came along, like out of the blue yesterday. I'm sitting there minding my business when he strikes up a conversation with me. Suddenly it's like Peter by the seashore, James and John mending their nets. He was like an angel unawares....not like the last angel unawares who ripped me off for $51...and he had the knowledge of the ages. Self-taught, except for the books and the seminars. He doesn't depend on revelation, he's after the Word that's already there waiting to be picked up like pearls. He has the flier for the prophecy conference, with Yacovrambel, I think was his name, the guy who adds up Hebrew letters from the text and gets the messages. That's reading between the lines, and it's profitable.

He told me about the 6000 years of Earth history, each 1000 years being in God's sight a day, something like that. I'm taking it in, I'm absorbing what I can. Which day was Jesus born? 4th day. What did God create on the 4th day? The Sun. What'd God do after the sixth day? He rested. What's He going to do after the 6000th year. Rest. And Walter's got it square. That sixth day is very shortly, upon us. He's got it marked out, it's going to be one of the Fall feasts for Walter. Rosh Hasanah. Then seven years later the whole consummation, which would be 2008, I'd guess, if my math is any good. I was testing Walter. I said "What about 20 years? Will things still be going on in 20 years?" meaning the corrupt world system and this whole dispensation... He said, "No." And he said the words that no one could argue with: "It won't be soon enough for me."

Now I need to keep getting knowledge. Taking it in like worms from a mother bird. Then I need to chew it up and pass it on to Leon. Poor guy. What's he know? Less than I.... And by the way, where are those friends of Leon's who want to meet me? I need to ask him about that. If he has friends that will lighten the load on passing out leaflets at the courthouse and other places. I don't want to spread myself thin. I think first I need to consolidate my base. I need to get the knowledge I need to shout down naysayers and gainsayers, and to convince them by hook or crook. If I have the verses in mind and the citations, there's nothing man can do to me. I will win the day, as my destiny is that I should.

I'm really starting to think I've been prepared for this day, for this mission, for this end-time crusade on a world-wide scale. It's awesome to think about it. Go to a little fastfood place for coffee, end up meeting this Braniac junk dealer who just might be the most knowledgeable man in the world about prophecy, meeting Leon, the whole sheebang.... it's like a story book, if you wrote it in a story book they'd never believe it (Ray Lewis said that, too)! And guess what, I wouldn't even have been in Hardee's drinking coffee if I hadn't been trying to induce a mystical state a la the Omni article, which Leon gave me. So it's like a circle, like a wheel within a wheel, like a snake doubling back and eating its own tale. I meet Leon, he gives me the article, I deprive myself of sleep, I need coffee, I meet Walter, then I learn from Walter, then I teach Leon. Weird, but those are His wonders to behold!

And think about it, I'm right in the middle of this whole stew. I'm like the hub in the middle of the wheel, the axle, the fulcrum, is that the word? (I'll look it up later.) I cast my net on the sea, so to speak, and the fish are coming fast and furious. I can't even haul them in, that's how bad (or good!) it is! Any little meeting I happen to have with people could have world wide consequences. If I delay stepping outside my door by just five minutes from the time I intended to step out, whole continents could lie at stake. Whole continents could be sinking by this time tomorrow just because I stayed behind to drink a little glass of grapefruit juice. And on the other hand, if I leave five minutes before I intended to leave, I might step on the very scorpion that was meant to bite the Antichrist on the heel. I'm pretty important if you think about it.

It's like I'm a little out of my head. I've never typed this fast before, and I'm barely making any mistakes. It's like blitz-writing in college with No-Doz. I've gone from being a nobody to the center of the universe in just a few days! That does something for your self-image! What a rush! If I just glance up into the sky, the clouds start parting and light shafts pierce through. The planets fall into strict alignment if I nod in their general direction. I clap my hands and leaves grow on trees out of season. I can stop the flow of the Amazon River from my couch on an entirely different continent! The whole omniscient thing is happening to me!

February 2, 2001

I'm substantially rested after "getting horizontal" all night. I woke up about 2 in the morning and thought about getting out of bed to read one of the few prophecy books I have. My library is pretty paltry, like Mother Hubbard's cupboard (not quite that bad -- sometimes I exaggerate for effect). Nothing like Walter's, which going by his description must be pretty massive. I kind of picture one of those old British personal museums where they have a giant room, kind of dark in there, and books to the ceiling with a big ladder on wheels that you need to climb up to fetch something from the top. Probably isn't anything like that in reality, but his stash must be impressive. First, look how old the old guy is...64 and he looks 70. He's been at it for years! Second, look how much he knows...plenty. If he gets at least one nugget from every book, and he has plenty of knowledge, that must be plenty of books. And he's a junk dealer, so he knows how to pick the good from the bad!

Anyway, I thought about getting out of bed to read one of the few prophecy books I have. But then I thought better of it. I was halfway hoping some more visions would pop into my head, but instead I basically dozed back off... frankly, I was thinking about Walter's stash of books and I think that's what I actually dreamed about! To me, any thing stacked up, anything in a sequence, a series of numbers, a row of dominoes, even days on a calendar, has the ability to nearly freak me out. Say I had to alphabetize this stack of cards. And the stack is very messed up, i.e., out of order. OK, I put four cards in order, then five, then six, but there are a lot left to go. I'm at the point of no-return in a sense, at least that's the way my head sees it. And it's like something clicks up there and I get a weird "woe is me" effect. The effect is hard to repeat, easy to remember but not the actual sensation; the sensation is immediate but short-lived.

So I was thinking about Walter's stash of books, and I think I even dreamed about it a little bit. The row after row, the stacks and stacks... it's coming to me... I had to organize some of them, to sort them and shelve them. And there I am with like 153 books, and I sort out the top eight, and I realize I still have the remainder to do. The point of no-return sense surfaces, I go off into dreamland even while I'm still dreaming! To get that sensation in a dream is like being stuck at the top of a ferris wheel and going around at the same time! Impossible to describe.

After that I woke up once again, kind of shook my head, rearranged my covers, and went back to sleep. Now that the night is over, I'm up -- typing this -- and I feel pretty good. Don't know what to do today. Probably call Leon and ask him about his friends. If they want to help, fine, let them help. There's no big money to be made and very few promotions are in the offing! It's just the satisfaction of warning the world before it's too late and accepting their scorn and persecution.

I'm into crowns. Walter said something like that, but being an old guy he didn't say "into" crowns. He was talking about the surety of his salvation, that he's not working for that, but he does expect a crown or crowns, which Paul said are laid up for those who love His appearing. We want our entrance into the kingdom to be ministered to us abundantly, to put it mildly, baby.

That whole sequential thing I was writing about above... that's kind of like time. Here we are, right at the very end of all things in 2001. If I had to "alphabetize" the years, that's not the right word; if I had to "numerically sort" all the years, imagine the huge surge I'd get. Some cosmic force has all the years on big pieces of sky, glittering stars spelling out 1914, 1948, 1967, 2001, and all the others, and I'm seated in the center of a limitless desert. I would get such an overwhelming soul flush, there's no doubt of that. But I'm ready for the end, I'm "maranathaing" down the world's last trail to bye bye.

February 3, 2001

Talked to Leon on the phone for about an hour. To tell the truth, I wasn't too inspired to talk to him, since he wanted to know about my latest signs, dreams, visions, etc. I haven't had too many, basically just the ones I've already sketched out. But I figure, I've got him interested, I need to keep him interested. If he thinks I'm a little short in the vision department he might start looking for another master...haha, not that I'm a master really, but it's cool to have a guy trailing around like that. I hope he's sincere. And I kind of hope those friends of his, whoever they are, get with the program. Maybe they're college students or something, I don't know. Come to think of it, I think they are, plus Leon. Taking what, I don't know.

I went over what Walter had said again. Seems kind of like a rehash after a certain point. I've very clear in my thinking today. How do they keep this prophecy stuff interesting to one another? After you've said 2001 is it, or 2002 whatever, what more can you say? You sketch it out, certainly. Put the details as to why it is 2001 and put the signs that you have. But it's like a shark swimming, the sucker has to keep moving or it dies...or is that just a myth? If you don't keep a steady stream of visions and predictions coming, it's like a plate of turkey the day after Turkey Day, cold and unappetizing.

I doubt my own sincerity today. Why did I ever buy into this stupid 2001 scheme? Why did I listen to Ben when he was jawboning me about his stupid cousin? Now I'm sort of hooked into it by my own stupidity, hoisted upon my own petard, to borrow a phrase. Now I have the emotional upkeep of one and potentially more disciples/associates, plus the upkeep of one superior, read WALTER. A junkman. Yes, I guess I can believe God chooses junkmen to issue His final warning to the world. Why not? They're just a good as anyone else. And it's kind of mysterious, exactly the sort of thing you expect out of God in a round-about reverse psychology sort of way.

Maybe I should have kept my own counsel, meaning less upkeep, less of my personal vulnerability on the line. But I've put it out there. And the 10,000 or more letters that have come in because of the website are an issue. One of those gullible idiots might be some sap from the media, then I will be in hot do do if this 2001 date doesn't work out. There was a report that George W. Bush a few years ago hired some folks to do a top notch $50,000 report on what becomes of ex-presidents' sons. Now that's research! Maybe I ought to do the same thing for false prophets, assuming for a moment that I'm false. My confidence for some reason is at an all time low. Maybe it's the mystical experience I had from losing all the sleep, like the price to pay, like after drinking too much caffeine. Or maybe 2001 really is it! Ben was a pretty honest guy, and if he said his cousin said this, who am I to doubt it? Although that still doesn't explain why it has to be ME and a junkman and a college guy from parts unknown with his unknown friends and 10,000 gullible prophecy-expert-wanna-bes from the internet. But ME at the center of it!

If I could just be this honest when someone else was reading it as I am here, I wouldn't be in this pickle. This is a pickle that I myself cooked and canned. I could just tell Leon it's all a joke. Then I could avoid Walter till he gets the idea that I'm off this prophecy kick. But I could ask myself, Why is it a prophecy kick? Is that what I really think? How can a guy like Walter believe it so fervently that he devotes every waking hour to it for years? Here I am, barely two months into the year and I'm already throwing up my hands in despair.

Sunday, February 4, 2001

Leon came over last night. He had some prophecy book he'd found at Goodwill. Called "Heralds of the Morning," and the copyright date was first 1899, then 1909. It explains "The Meaning of the Social and Political Problems of To-day and the Significance of the Great Phenomena in Nature," that's the subtitle. Looks like maybe they were expecting the end way back then, too! That's kind of a bizarre thought. They were expecting the end and the end wasn't even in sight. This guy was probably saying "1901 That's It" and selling globes and pink combs, the whole bit! And another hundred years were destined to pass till we got to the REAL endtimes, 2001.

Anyway, this is a fascinating book. Some great pictures, although the text is a little dry, and I can't find any definite dates. Like they were hedging their bets a little! But in the foreword they seem to think the end is almost at hand, at least within that generation: "May you be among those who shall, with glad hearts filled with heavenly melody, welcome the Home-coming of the King." Probably not many of those folks from over 100 years ago around to welcome ANYBODY today! So, they were wrong.

We were kind of amazed how they talked about "distressing conditions" in the world at that time, "dark forebodings," etc. We thought those were the good old days! But they seem to think the great inventions of the time signalled the end. The end of the book sums it all up: "As we look upon the earth, we see distress, perplexity, and unsatisfying prospects. ... This distressed condition is all that earth has to offer; but if we take the telescope of prophecy and divinely inspired promise, and look beyond these scenes of the closing days of time over into the fair domains of our heavenly Father, we see the 'New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven;" we see the hand of Omnipotence giving our earth its purifying ablution of fire."

Of course I say AMEN to that, the purifying ablution of fire, but, look idiots, you were about 100 years ahead of your time! How stupid, how absolutely ridiculous, how ludicrous can you dimwitted morons have been! You guys were like Bad Bad Leroy Brown: "Well he big and dumb as a man can come."

The bitter root of yesterday, my own yesterday, meaning Feb. 3, is a little bit gone now. I want to keep an accurate record of these things, but of course I don't want anyone reading my personal doubts. I don't really have any doubts about my prophecy; yesterday I was just a little down. And I kept it to myself. Plus, it's not really my prophecy, but Ben's cousin's. I want Leon to understand that, and his friends, if I ever get to meet them. I kind of wonder what Leon has told them about me. But Leon's only seen my good side, my fully believing side. He hasn't heard one single iota of doubt pass my lips.

Haven't heard from Walter. Don't really expect to, unless I initiate it. I meet him just out of the blue...that much was divine, unanticipated. But anything else that happens, looks like I'll have to initiate it, take him kicking and screaming from all his indepth study on all those books of his....which I still need to see. I don't just WANT to see them, I NEED to see them. Plus I want to know if Walter has ever seen this "Herald of the Morning" book and what he thinks about the lame mentality of these so-called prophets of 100 years ago. Basically they could have relaxed and taken it easy, since they had a 100 years and weren't in any danger of the end. But they didn't know that, and it took a few decades to prove them wrong, in error, and therefore unambiguously false and condemned.

I condemn them for their error! They lead people astray! They were false prophets, worthy of death!

Monday, February 5, 2001

Had a great conversation with Leon. We were doing real expansive gestures as we said the things on our minds, which means everything seems grandiose and meaningful. That was part of it. Then we got to talking about "the end of the world" and whether we really want it to happen or not. I knew this was no time to lose a disciple, so I was hedging about it as Leon spoke. He was a little sad about it, which for some reason I found somewhat irritating. First, he rather enjoys life. But I countered we'll be in a better place. Second, he has family that he feels he would miss. I told him they'd be in that better place, too. Third, he's somewhat regretful that mountains, forests, the oceans, and the continents will all be burnt and destroyed. I responded that's not really our concern, and anyway we'll have a better place. And you know, that really is a pretty good argument. What's the beef when everything's going to be better? You don't cry over a shoe with a big fat hole in it if you've just bought a new pair of shoes. The world has been fairly adequate for our needs, but it's not as good as we're going to have!

But our conversation wasn't all contentious like that. Also checked out the newspaper, and noted a strange confluence or congruence going on vis-á-vis (regarding) the upcoming Israel election and the horse population of the so-called (we think they doth protest too much) "former" Soviet Union. C'mon, c'mrades, just admit you exist and we can get the world over maybe a little faster! Anyway, isn't it strange and just a little coincidental that Israel's having an election, and that 500 million horses just happen to be dwelling in those northern lands? On the one hand we're going to have instability in an already unstable place. On the other we've got 500 million horses just champing at the bit to go into battle. And we think we know where they're headed.

Leon didn't really know about the horses, how that ties in with the end-times. So I had an opportunity to shine before his wondering eyes, to receive this frisky little disciple's plaudits and lauds for my display of knowledge (sometimes it pays to be older and wiser.) But then he thought maybe we should call Walter and ask him, but I said 'we'll call him later.' Look it up in your King James....we don't need Walter for the basics, the simplest stuff. No nation needs 500 million horses unless they're about to fulfill Ezekiel's prophecies! I mean, c'mon, give me a break. OK, I was a little peeved that this disciple of mine had to mention Walter right at that second. Not that there's a breach between us, because there certainly is NOT.

Tuesday, February 6, 2001

I've been thinking often about that mystical state I was supposedly in, the one from the old Omni magazine, the one induced by sleep-deprivation. My thinking is leading me to wonder if that's really a mystical state or just the natural flubbing up of the brain when it doesn't get the rest it needs. I'm not a brain surgeon. In fact I've never even studied the brain. I tried to memorize the parts of the brain in a psychology class once, and I was fairly successful to a point, but then I immediately forgot the parts, what they were called. It was one of those tests where you need to spit back the information, etc. Anyway, what I know about the brain is pretty meagre. So how can I be sure that sleep-deprivation is really the way to a mystical state.

I guess I could use the test "know 'em by their fruits" to know if this was really a mystical state. What were the results? Did I have visions that the average person would associate with mystical states? Did I get actual prophecies that could be tested for accuracy? Did I travel to the third heaven or was I simply zonked out in my chair because my brain was flubbed up? When I look at the actual visions I had, they weren't really anything that a person couldn't just imagine and write as a bit of fiction. I've seen stuff that's further out in the movies. But the things I "saw", not being that far out, could be more trustworthy because they didn't really imitate (or bring to the surface) things I've already seen in the movies. I did not travel to the third heaven, that much I'm pretty sure of. The prophecies, as to whether they can be tested, did match what I've been saying all along, that the end of the world will come. (They weren't dated, but the essential details were compatible.) To back up, they were more visions than prophecies; I don't mean to blur the distinction.

One thing I can say about it that is definite, and this is of a pragmatic nature, the visions were valuable to my reputation in Leon's eyes. And maybe that's what really counts. "Keep the customer satisfied" is a bit of heavenly wisdom if I've ever heard any! If I get his friends over, and this whole "2001 That's It" thing snowballs, maybe finally I will "come into my own" and have a good year, and then when the whole world goes kaput, at least I'll die with their considered praise ringing in my ears; I reject the notion that this is a vain desire!

And not to make too much of my private doubts -- I'm kind of a fool for even putting them to paper -- I'm just thankful no one has access to this journal but me -- but what if the whole thing goes up in smoke, not the world but my prophecy? If I think the "customer" is satisfied now, imagine the terror I'll face if 2002 comes and nothing happens. Don't want to think about that! Just forget it. This is still February, for pete's sake, I've still got time to worry about that. Or to quit worrying all together. Ben was trustworthy. And I hope his cousin was, too!

OK, about the mystical state thing. I was thinking about that. And thinking of other ways to induce a mystical state, if sleep deprivation indeed is one legitimate method. This might sound a little silly, but what about gargling air? What if a person pretended to drink a throat-load of air, tilted his head back, and gargled about 10 seconds? Then try imagining the way it is with mouthwash, that you're about to swallow it, then you violently spit it out. What if you did this, say, 100 times in a row? I haven't tried it, but it's conceivable that it might work! Maybe mystical states are just as close as that! I think I'll try that tonight! If it was totally off the wall, why would it have popped into my head just this minute?

In other news, I was very gratified to hear from the International Conference on Prophecy in Zurich. I didn't even know we were on the agenda, but they fully endorsed our website's message! What a rush! Unfortunately, the notification came by e-mail, and wouldn't you know it, it turned out to be a prank. I made some quick calls and there was no such conference....What a letdown, but kids will have their fun...(sigh). Wish they'd grow up. I'd like to beat the devil out of 'em, but must-control-temper...

Wednesday, February 7, 2001

Well, turns out that gargling air is indeed a good way to induce a mystical state. To say the least. I just came down off a high that had no upper limits except those I voluntarily set for myself. I've got to keep this very quiet, because if people find out about this, all commerce will stop. (Maybe that's what I want, since 2001 is it...well, regardless...)

OK, all scrupples aside...that's not my aim, to keep the world well-regulated (á la the American militia)... Boy, this is hard! It's like "words not lawful to utter." I hesitate to even put down my visions; knowing full well I'm the only person who'll ever read this is for some strange reason small consolation! One thing that IS a consolation is my thoughts on the screen appear cogent. I didn't know if I'd be back as myself or what, but I guess attachment to this mortal form is not that easy to give up, kind of like a person who needs his morning coffee and can't function (well) without it.

But I'm going to try at least to encapsulate my peregrinations through the nether regions as well as the upper regions of omnipresence. And yes, that's exactly what I tapped into, the ineffable omnipresence that is true existence. And all it took was gargling air. I can only imagine what would have been the result if I'd added some other extreme behavior to last night's regimen. I might have been omnipresence turned inside out, and what would that be? 'Tis hard to contemplate. But needless to say it'd take on some of the characteristics of a non-stop bender!

Maybe I better not get into it right now. It's all so fresh and wild. Beautiful wild, not frantic wild. Well, a little bit I can get into it. The first few gargles I was very self-conscious, thinking 'this will never work.' I was listening to the rumble in my throat, eyes closed, trying to visualize my consciousness in my throat. The weird thought of a cat's purr box came into my mind. Next I'm sickened by the thought of mouthwash being inadvertently swallowed. Even a few drips down my esophagus brings on a gag reaction that could power a small campground. So I did that a few times, really not believing how truly sickened I was. Something in the air, when you consciously are gargling it...probably some unknown molecular compound, at least something with reactive potentialities...really got me charged up.

But about the 10th gargling cycle, I was seeing colors (I'll not bore myself by going over the preliminaries; I was losing track of time and the sequence anyway, being suddenly only conscious of consciousness itself. But I think I was still doing the gargling...but about this stage the body was doing it and not my mind. That's a very weird sensation, when there's a total disconnect, apparent total disconnect.) What I recall, however, was leaving the body (yet still being essentially myself), passing through the ceiling, seeing the city, the county, the state, the world, etc. I passed that giant angel who stands at the North Pole. I waved at him, and kept a serious look on my face, lest he become piqued at what might be perceived as cosmic flippancy. He was still holding that rod of iron, which I focused on.

As I flew, the rod of iron was in my mind and my legs and arms were becoming very heavy. I thought I'd sink like a stone. But instead the opposite took place; I felt buoyancy as never before. It was like I was enclosed in a million life preservers, the center of the life preservers, yet my face was sticking out so that I was seeing all directions at once and somehow the master of my fate, the master of my journey. Who'd've ever thunk it?

I got to thinking "if only I had a video camera." This is wilder than wild (that exactly what I thought...the words went through my mind: "This is wilder than wild." I got to thinking, "This makes Salvador Dali look like Currier & Ives." I wasn't losing touch with reality at all. I still had the same grip on reality I had before I left (OK, I know some of my detractors, the people who callously call me deranged, mental, insane, loco, would question that I had a grip on reality. Get out of my mind! Get out of my mind! Leave me! Stop talking! Stop shouting! Leave me in peace! Don't torture me! I'm not your rag doll! I'm not your chew toy! I'm not a teething ring for the heretic spotters club! I reject the Ladies Aid Society, the Anaheim, Azuza, Cucamonga Sewing Circle and Timing Society! I leave you behind as I ascend! And as I ascend, I'm sailing, sailing, floating; I feel that I'm everywhere at once, yet getting closer, ever closer to the cosmic motor.

The cosmic motor is just ahead! I have the unshakeable awareness that I'm very near "God's Motown." It's here ESPECIALLY that the words I heard (and saw) become unlawful to repeat. This made the Seven Thunders sound like Betty Boop singing! It was awesome (if that word actually conveys much anymore.) What I heard...maybe I'll filter it down somehow in the weeks and months ahead. Or I might just go there, if possible, and stay forever. Let the world go.

But bad news for my "2001 That's It" campaign and website: the Cosmic Motor did NOT say anything about 2001 being IT. In fact, it didn't say ANYTHING that would validate any of my prophecies. The only thing I could be certain about based on this experience is that indeed a giant angel does loom over the North Pole, one foot on one continent and one foot on another. And that he has a big rod of iron.

So the trip wasn't ALL a loss, however much it revives my doubts about 2001 really being IT. At least I learned something about the effects of gargling air. And that's an advance, in a manner of speaking.

On another subject: Those same kids who sent me the e-mail about the Prophecy Conference struck again! Which means NOW I'll be examining the "headers" of my e-mail. Leon told me you have to click on "Blah Blah Blah" and it shows the secret stuff that Internet providers use to trace pranksters, sometimes called "hackers" (that's the word for it). Anyway, these hackers thought it'd be FUNNY to invite our website staff to the local school to proselytize. I got my papers together, and my globe (so I'd be able to show them where the North Pole is), and went to the school. There was a little sign on the door that said "all visitors must report to the office." Well, I went to the office and they didn't know anything about it! That's when I called Leon and he reminded me of the trouble with the kids, etc. So that turned out to be a disaster.

Thursday, February 8, 2001

8:30 a.m. - I'm having a hard time adjusting again to finitude. I know everything around is limited, but it's very hard to see it as such. Really I'm kind of reluctant even to breathe, lest it become a gargle when I let down my guard. Then I woke up with dragon breath today, since last night Leon and I had pizza, then I layed down to get 40 winks and fell fast asleep without brushing; plus I've been urping half-digested pepperoni and the heartburn is a killer. And now I don't want to brush, again because of the gargling thing. I will probably take a quick walk, and once I clear my head I'll be able to take care of the basic hygiene needs and get on with the day.

3:45 p.m. - I wanted to get it in my notes concerning Ronald Wilson Reagan's 90th birthday a couple days ago. I watched some of the coverage, the retrospectives on the news channels, mostly Fox News. All warm and fuzzy, with no mention (I repeat: NO mention) of his place in prophecy! To expect the full story is apparently too much...which is no big surprise. And also no big surprise was the way they keyed in on this Alzheimer's scam as an explanation why there's no pictures of him, no public appearances, etc.

The Alzheimer's cover-story has worked like a charm! It really has to be one of the most brilliant and devious moves the guy could make. It gives him the perfect cover to go about his mysterious work as he prepares to be revealed in the prophetic timetable as the Antichrist. At this point people are going to see it as some kind of miracle when he finally steps forward and makes himself known. He's most definitely not out of his mind; that much is certain. Rather, he's cold and calculating, very sharp, missing nothing!

Our intuition tells us what we are assuming to be true: Ronald (6) Wilson (6) Reagan (6) is at work in some cavernous facility, probably on the bridge of an enormous wheel-within-a-wheel flying machine, the basic structure of which is sinewy, living, breathing flesh, powered by actual organic intestines and an actual brain (a super brain infilled with a consciousness just shy of perfection). Intuition would suggest that he absorbs power from this divine thing and that he is slowly transforming himself from mortality to immortality.

Awareness of the day and the hour when they come will course through his mind, registering with some aspect of consciousness prepared for that time. Then he will be on his way: he will be revealed and he will work out (and allow to be worked out through him) all the endtime events. According to intuition, never known to be wrong, this lawlessness is even now in motion.

I found this great article in the book "Snake Soup for the Presidential Candidate's Soul":

That's chilling. But it all fits. Now how can doubt that 2001 is IT? His reappearance on the world scene should be a kick in the pants for awareness, but I'm afraid everyone will stay just as blind as they've always been! Need to redouble our efforts, get the word out there...never mind the persecution!

How about this little nugget: Reagan was born in February 1911. 3½ years later in August 1914, World War I starts! I wonder what the next 3½ years will bring! That's time, 2 times, and a half time!

Friday, February 9, 2001

Woke up feeling especially paranoid today. Like others are out there trying to steal my prophetic secrets. I feel like my trust level is way low, like I don't trust anyone.

If I can't get out of this funk... or if indicators tell me the funk is justified... either way, I'm not opening up to anyone. I'm going to be a loner. And that includes Leon and Walter, whom I haven't seen or heard from now in quite a while. Why do I need a disciple anyway? Or someone to learn from? Learning is vastly overrated anyway; I'm thinking now the less I know the better off I'll be. Just go from intuition, the gut, instinct.

I was driving through downtown yesterday and noticed that whole swarm of pigeons that's always swooping around. They're either just always swooping about downtown, or they come swooping out whenever they detect I'm getting near. But it's like white noise, you don't always notice it's there till something clicks. So I see these pigeons swooping about, always turning the corner in synch, always going to their pointless destination in harmony. Well, I can be like that, referring here to the instinctual direction seeking and navigational success, not the flocking.

With people, there's always someone there to knife you in the back, out of jealousy, selfishness, etc. And that's what I have to beware of -- at least that's the feeling I get today with this paranoia. You know, I felt kind of like Leon was making faces at me, not really respecting me as a Master. Not when I was looking at him, of course, but behind my back. And Walter, as far as his not calling, maybe he feels like he's such a Master, too good for me. But just give him half a chance (and he'd never admit it) and he'd be picking my brain for theories and interpretations. And to what end, to his own greedy advantage. The man is a junk collector, for cryin' out loud! Do you think a junk dealer is all that particular where he collects his next treasure? No, their m.o. is to grab what they can get, scurry back to their pathetic little junk lair and to pick over their booty.

Well, who needs 'em? I can't see it! I need to simply draw back, not answer my phone. Make 'em wonder. If they start coming around a little too much, I'll know they're only after what they can get out of me! Must protect myself, my theories, my interpretations... they're too valuable to relinquish!!!!!

Saturday, February 10, 2001

I kind of like my new loner status. The end of the world is upon us, and this is no time to be making friends. 2001, that's it, and I'm staking my everything, my all on it. No more doubt. The next time I dare to have a doubt, I just hope the clouds open and a voice tells me "knock it off."

Of course last night the phone rang a dozen times. But I didn't get it. Leon left a couple messages wondering "where are you?" but I just chuckled and went back to my business. My business last night basically being to stare at the wall and chuckle. I felt like I was actually seeing things in the wall, which might be too bizarre to put down. I don't know what the Tribulation period will bring, but I can well imagine that people will discover this journal in that period and will be searching it for clues as to what is coming upon the world.

So I need to shape up a little, and not just rant (I haven't been, actually.) But just keep it in mind that eventually, when things turn sour, people will be busting their humps for the deeper knowledge I have. I can well imagine they'll explore these pages and even edit it down to the best bits and make a "daily devotional classic" out of it. In the world as it's presently formulated, I'm shunned, hated, and despised. But in the days to come -- when I've been proven right -- the world will clamor for copies of my once-despised jottings. I'll look down from my place in the afterlife and give an understanding nod.

So...assuming you're reading these words in that period...look up and I'll glance down (if I should indeed dain to do so) and give you an understanding nod! That is, if I'm not busy rejoicing in sweet vengeance. I'm not exactly the type for it, but once that day gets here maybe I'll change.

I was staring at the wall, thinking of some of this. Imagine it: "The ends of the world have devolved upon me." Is that how to put it? It sounds neat to my thoughts, but maybe "devolve" isn't really a word, and maybe that's not how you use it. Intution suggested it, and I think it's correct. There's another word it reminds me of, "redound." "Glory REDOUNDS unto Him for the faithfulness of y'all." Which appears to mean: doubles-back, boomerangs, returns. "Devolve" the way I'm using it means "The ends of the world have narrowed, focused, centered in particular upon me." That is, out of all the people of the world -- past, present, future -- the 6,000 years of world history have now come down to me. I was in the right place at the right time. Ben told me about his cousin, no doubt completely unaware that his report would be seared into my mind like a Circle-Bar-G brand on a cow's haunch. I've been waiting the coming of 2001, and now it's here. Therefore, the ends of the world have devolved upon me!

That whole paragraph will make a great entry in the "daily devotional classic" they'll make of this journal. It'll show how absolutely precise I meant to be in these writings, and will be an inspirational moment for millions.

Well, I think I've written enough for today. Now back to staring at the wall, waiting for a fresh vision...

Sunday, February 10, 2001

Today I want to get started on turning my secret journal into the future "daily devotional classic" that I believe it will be. The little things I say are the most profound things I've ever read (not to be overly immodest). I remember from creative writing class in high school how the teacher was always going on about the writers of classics. It wasn't enough for her to simply read what they'd written for its entertainment value; no, to her we needed to search beneath the surface for the writer's intent, the literary parallels, the various motifs, all that baloney. Well, that's what's going on here. Just a surface reading of these blessed pages would suggest an average person caught up in the frenzy of prophecy, jotting down his daily thoughts whose worth is transitory and only for the moment. That surface reading would lead us to believe the writer had no deeper intent past simply stating his thoughts as they occurred.

Of course the surface reading (when it comes to something I've written) is wrong. (And now I'm consciously directing my thoughts to future readers, those of the tribulational period who will be looking for answers in a bleak, horrible existence.) Friends, it's your own fault that you're now in this period of terror. If only you had listened to the many warnings of people like me. But no, instead you wanted to eat, drink, and be merry. You failed and failed miserably to heed the signs of the time until it was absolutely too late. Frankly, you deserve what you get now. If it's a kick in the face, if its some sort of degrading branding, if you have to experience hunger and thirst till you chew your tongue and your skin starts falling off, then that's your problem. People like me were a bunch of kooks, nutcases. Isn't that what you said??? The only looks I ever got from you were to shoot out your lip and looks of laughter and derision. But who's laughing now?

OK...getting to the devotional bit. I want to be helpful. That's part of my deeper intent. But today I'm really not in the mood for it. I will stare at the wall a little longer, and maybe tomorrow my inner demeanor will be more in touch with my devotional side.

Monday, February 11, 2001

Leon called last night and I picked up. He wondered what's been happening. I told him basically I felt like withdrawing for a bit, that I wanted to do some personal housekeeping before I bore full responsibility for his prophetic upbringing. And he allowed that that might be a good idea, that he was still eager to learn and serve but felt that maybe I was at present not quite all there. He meant that in a good way, but being a young sapling he has a hard time formulating his words in such a way as to convey niceness.

The way I see it, the young are basically stupid. Anybody (on the average) under 25 is brusque, doltish, an intellectual and social loser. I don't know if it's just that they don't try, or if it's that little walnut in their heads they call a brain just isn't formed yet. It really could be that they're just not formed these days. That is, since 2001 is IT, nature and the force behind nature has determined that people under 25 should be in this stupid condition to dull the pain of their soon-coming demise.

And this is exactly the kind of thing the whole medical universe could very easily miss. Why? Because they're so keyed on individuals and individual needs. It's never occurred to them to correlate data on a wider scale. Mankind has failed to exercise basic logic, what I would term common sense. And really, if you look at it from their perspective, this makes sense. When you bill Blue Cross and Blue Shield, you bill them for an individual patient. They don't have an insurance plan for a class of people, or, say, for 25-year-olds in general. To me, it'd seem they'd have somebody to survey things in general and someone to examine things in particular, but that's just me. The firemarshal doesn't wait till a particular house catches on fire before he does his inspection of houses in particular and houses in a particular region.

Anyway, we have this entire group 25 and under who know next to nothing about anything. They go to college and what courses do they choose? Remedial reading, remedial math, remedial science. They buy these get-ahead-in-college books at Wal-Mart and think that just by memorizing a few questions and answers out of those books that they'll do well! That's crazy! Those books are meant to give principles, examples, not the sum total of knowledge! So you ask them a question that's not contained in one of these books (or even a variation on a question, this is how dense they are), and they don't know! This is the way my young friend Leon is. He literally needs a Master to tell him when to get up in the morning. I don't know why I need such a dumb follower, but the pickings are slim these days!

Probably cable TV has something to answer for, probably a lot. Call somebody, someone at random. And chances are they'll be watching cable TV. Well, my friends, the world is going DOWN....2001 is IT....and that cable connection is going to be your shame, not your glory. If you're looking for glory, then you're looking in all the wrong places. You can have a 100 different channels on cable, but not one of those channels is going to do you any good. Except maybe the Trinity Broadcasting Network, and I've never seen any kid watch that channel with sincerity.

OK, Leon called. But we didn't really talk about much. He wants to get together. He says he still has a few friends who are interested in joining us. And he wants to know if Walter is entirely out of the picture.

Tuesday, February 13, 2001

The three of us might get together one day. I don't know. In a way, I would like help in getting my message out. And to really hone my message, that's where Walter could be useful. Leon and his friends would do the grunt work, Walter could give me important research, and I'd be the brains of the outfit! But I'm also thinking 'why should I share my glory with another?' Since I am obviously the brains of the outfit, why do we need an outfit? Why don't I just do it all myself? It's not like I have to farm this stuff out. But if I do it myself there won't be as much grunt work get done...simple time considerations as well as the fact that I'm just naturally adverse to grunt work.

If anyone would be in a position to claim a share of my glory, then, it'd be Walter, since he could always say he was above me in brainpower. I don't think he is, but he did get a headstart on the whole prophetic thing. He's accumulated all those books, and supposedly garnered at least one nugget of truth from each one. Leon don't know jack, so he wouldn't be claiming much glory. So if I cut off anyone, it'd have to be Walter. And let Leon and the his friends do their best at the grunt work. I'm sure I can disguise it as being real valuable stuff, the kind of thing a disciple needs to do to curry favor with the Master. Plus, since 2001 is IT, there's no reason to get picky; it's not like he's going anywhere anyway, being under 25.

Well, that's the state of the struggle amongst Team 2001!

Now, about my secret journal becoming a "modern devotional classic," I've been having some real great daydreams along those lines. The term "leather bound" keeps popping into my mind. I picture it as never being a cheap paperback edition, but always as being leather bound and expensive. I picture the suffering infidels having to pay at least three months' wages to purchase a copy. That way they would cherish every word. They would look down at the gold-trimmed page -- on the finest handmade paper -- and perhaps there would be some hand-lettering and coloring throughout and gold inlay on the cover -- and see the words I have so graciously written, and know these were the words of Truth. Yes, they rejected my many pleas and entreaties when the time was at hand in 2001. Yes, I was a fool in their eyes, the scum of the earth in their thoughts. But now they're cherishing what once they despised. Now they're paying through the nose for something that before they turned their nose up at! Now they hold in their hands the rich leather bound edition of these pages when before they wouldn't have wiped their filth on it if it'd been printed on Charmin and their double fists were stuffed with it and there wasn't another roll within 10 miles! Oh yes, the last laugh is mine!

You who rejected me, read on! You who thought it'd be so very funny to keep me on the sidelines braying what you termed idiocy, who's the idiot now! You kids who concocted that unforgiveable story about the 5,000 delegates in Zurich at the supposed International Conference on Prophecy, I don't hear you laughing now! I hear you crying in excruciating pain, wishing there were such a conference and that you could hear just a word or two of its truth. And I see you holding my leather-bound book in your flesh-dripping hands -- at once trying to keep the book in mint condition because of its preciousness and scanning its pages for the vital interpretations you crave!

Now those are some great thoughts!

Wednesday, February 14, 2001

Well, here it is, the last Valentine's Day in the world as we know it now! Seems kind of a shame that on this day of "love" there are very few who love the Truth! The Truth is: this world is going down! I like the analogy of the sinking ship. There are holes in the stern, holes in the bow, the thing is leaking like a sieve, and it can't float. It made a nice illustration for the world's upcoming demise, the other day, when that submarine came up and knocked a bunch of people off a Japanese fishing boat. Those poor folks didn't know what hit them, and that's the way it's going to be for the whole world in 2001. Because 2001 is IT.

And I feel everyone's persecution as I go about sharing this Truth. On this day of "love" I don't expect much love to be coming my way. Instead I expect people's scorn, that they will detest this faithful messenger! Be that as it may, I accept it. You know, I didn't ask for this job. It wasn't something I set out to accomplish, i.e., that the ends of the world would devolve upon me. But I took the task when confronted with it. And now I do the task, with the hope that glory will redound to me only in that day. I know there's glory reserved for me, a crown!

The "love" a person might expect on Valentine's Day has to be deferred for me. The love I deserve will have to wait until the Truth is borne out at that day. And even though I will not be present to enjoy it, I look forward so much to giving an understanding nod from my place on high. I will appear in the clouds somehow, my face, to look down on those reading and studying this "modern devotional classic" (my now-secret journal). And when I appear it will be to nod to them, etc., etc.

It's funny about "love." We're all mindful of love on this day of the year, but love is not genuine unless we share it everyday of the year! (Right there is a nuggest of wisdom that will keep scholars busy debating for the next few years! And it'll look good leather-bound. In fact, if I were there with the publisher, I'd call that quote out and emphasize it. Maybe I'd even make a chapter head out of it; to me it's that good...) Anyway, people don't know about love. They only know about lust. Love has proven an impossibility for people to fathom, but lust they're very good at! Love the world has not known, but lust has been its obsession. Love is one thing; lust is very much another! Just because you lust doesn't mean you love. And conversely, when you love you don't have to lust. You need to grow in love and cast off lust.

On another front, I've been thinking about my little mystic experiment the other day, when I gargled air and spent some time next to the cosmic motor. I'm trying to think of ways to put myself in suspended animation, then I hope to release my soul for a few days of out-of-body travel. The reason I'm so keyed up (I didn't mention it, but I am) is that I don't want to go away for a few days and come back and find myself in some kind of unhygienic condition. I would be more explicit about what I mean, but this secret journal will one day be read by persons of every temperament. Suffice it to say, I don't want to rely on adult undergarment protection to keep me hygienically tidy. I believe suspended animation to be a better way, with the bowels completely shut down. But how do you go about it? This is something I've never done before. Intuition is suggesting to me how I can go about it. More later.

Thursday, February 15, 2001

I'm not very far yet toward perfecting a method of suspended animation. I've looked at all the various household chemicals, glues, pastes, and poisons. None of them looks promising. To my mind it's not that they're too potent, but too ordinary, too earthbound. I'm a real Mahatma here, I can't be sniffing airplane glue!

Suspended animation will happen for me out of the internal workings and divine will. It has to be micro and macro. This is a job for the imagination, to be sure, but even that which is divine uses gross earthbound means from time to time. My imagination needs a kick in the pants. So, what should I stare at, the wall? If I think of my success with gargling, certainly I could incorporate that again. But the wall doesn't have that intimate connection to me. What if I stared at something more personal, more in touch with my own body and yet remote, such as my own baby pictures, while gargling both air and trapped sunshine? Trapped sunshine? Where'd I get that word? This is intuition at work! I need to trap some sunshine! In this way my mind and imagination will be: 1) refreshed by the hidden, unknown "Element X" present in air; 2) expanded by the rushing in every direction of the energy of trapped sunshine as it makes its escape; 3) charmed by the cuteness I once had and reminded of a time when my mental condition was entirely self-absorbed. That self-absorption sweetened with that charm, nurtured by the restorative/preservative properties of Element X, and directed by the fleeing energy of trapped sunshine would probably do the trick. Yes, I'm certain it would!

I must get to work here in a few moments. I can't see how it will be much a problem, but I will probably want to put some wrapping around my hind-end and a drop cloth around my chair in case the mixture results in unforeseen consequences. The cuteness of my baby pictures could very well trigger some instability in the warp and woof of the microcosmic realms. As I child my work of elimination was primeval, untrained, reportedly messy. With this mindset going, at the very least there could be some embarassing seepage, and I guess at the other extreme a hemorrhoid might form, swell up the size of a basketball, fill like a reservoir with blood now not circulating, stretch to its limit and blow up! Then when I'm reanimated it's just in time to bleed to death! I'm either going to need some kind of ceiling sling device to sit in, or maybe I just need to have a little more faith. Look, have you ever heard of such a thing happening? Has anything even vaguely similar to that ever happened before? You're worrying about things that are surely impossible. If you're in suspended animation, wouldn't that apply to your more indecorous members as well? Wasn't that the whole point of the suspended animation, to stop activity at that end? But that was before the baby pictures idea!

OK, I see this is getting fairly graphic. Which doesn't bode well for my journal being a future devotional classic for all temperaments. This is not meant to be a scientific treatise. I need to leave out details and get busy.

Friday, February 16, 2001

Well, here goes nothing...

I think I'm ready. This is planned as an indepth journey into the void, or whatever the heck they call it these days. I hope to get divine verification of the "2001 That's It" message. My last journey to the cosmic motor was exciting and worthwhile but yielded no certain answers. I didn't get "yes," and I didn't get "no," just an unwelcome silence. This time I hope will be different. Time, I believe, is what it takes, hence the need for an extended time away. I plan on being away all weekend, in fact, except for whatever journal reports I can manage to make home via thought transference. (For that purpose I've got special modem connectors (first dipped in the finest virgin olive oil) alligator-clipped to my ear lobes. Since I know absolutely nothing about writing software, it was kind of a challenge but I've managed to tinker with the code of "Notepad" to adapt it for thought transference, automatic file storage, and to FTP to my secret journal website. Now if I can just get it to water the plants and clean the catbox I'll consider my efforts a success...)

As to my person, I've removed my good pants and put on some loose painters pants. Under my pants, besides my usual underwear, I have an extra-large Depends undergarment. I know, the whole point of the suspended animation was to maintain good hygiene vis-á-vis the "call of nature" but there's no reason to chance it...which should have gone without saying. OK, enough gross details!

I spent the morning trapping sunshine, distilling the air for "Element X," and gathering my best baby pictures. I was really kind of cute. If I was fortunate enough to have any friends, and let's say these were friends who had a mind to razz me, they'd probably say, "What happened?!" It'd all be in good-natured fun, of course. But as it is I don't really have any friends like that. Basically Walter and Leon, and our relationship isn't really like that... relationship ... heh, such as it is. Anyway, gathering the baby pictures was kind of fun, since I have a few of them in a file. There's one of me sitting on some rocks on the beach. Cute enough to be a baby model, actually. There's two of me sitting in a little pool, and they're close enough alike that you can set them side by side, let your eyes drift, you'll see a stereo-opticon picture of me. Except I was moving slightly, but the stationary elements of the photo are clearly 3D. And there are a few other pictures, me and adults, all bigger than me!

So here I am in my room, ear lobes wired, vial of Element X, two sealed containers of trapped sunshine, a handful of baby pictures, and a chair. I've taken the precaution of removing the mattress and box spring from my bed. They are on the floor on each side of me. And I have some couch cushions in front of me, should I fall. I'm just about ready to go, and for this part of the process, I won't be able to type... and probably I should leave the thought transference thing alone till I'm actually gone. This could be like the Challenger disaster; I might be touching the face of heaven, like Antichrist Reagan once said. Or it could be like Jimi Hendrix: "scuze me while I kiss the sky." Or alternately like Jimi Hendrix, what this guy said in a film about the nature of Jimi's death: that somehow he was doing this "retrojerk" (I think the word was), cruising too close to death, and he slipped through and just never came back.

So before I go, maybe I ought to write a little something here. In the event that I don't come back, I want Leon to carry on the "2001 That's It" website. And for what's-his-name -- Warren, Wayne, ... Walter -- bless you, kind sir!

OK, I'm going to quit typing now, as I get ready to focus on my baby pictures, open the trapped sunshine, and ingest Element X. Now I prepare for a journey to the cosmic motor, and beyond. And when I get there I hope my first words are worthy of the occasion...

[Via thought transference....]

Charming pictures make up for deficiencies in X and sunshine. Carried aloft. In dream state. Circling the earth. Waved at astronauts.

[Via thought transference....Saturday, February 17, 2001]

Leaving sad old earth of sin and darkness. To think I accepted you as my home! Seeing mass of 200 million horses at "former" Soviet Union.

Moving ever upward. See giant angel at the North Pole. Looks like he's just standing there waiting a signal.

Journeying on. Can't see own body. Can only back-up. In reverse here. Nothing to behold. Still missing nothing. Invisible pants still feel dry, I'm still confident.

Weird discovery out here: stars only bright on front side, back very dark. Truly a geocentric universe; stars completely darkened during day.

[Via thought transference....Sunday, February 18, 2001]

Saw Horsehead Nebulae with eyes in back of my head. Hard to believe it's really shaped like a horsehead. But it is. Got up close and saw mane.

Journeying ever onward. "Void" would make boring postcard. Still very exhilarating. Very thankful for suspended animation. No reststops out here.

Mind thinking of Yuri Gugarin, how him not see God. Mouth thinking of Jay Silverheels, why me talk like this.

Conviction and awareness of cosmic motor, the grand hum ahead. Passing thunderous sound of "Hail Marys;" very inspiring. Sound of countless beings chanting "Om Mani Padme Hum" fills my mind. Hoping they're ecumenical up here. Must be, but didn't hear Baptist Covenant, dry or wet version.

Heaven's good place. Doorkeeper tells me tests lie ahead, something about "immunity idol."

As I move, I hear caterwauling, see horrible thrashing. See lonnnnnnng hallway of cells, small and larger demons pulling at bars.

Must eat series of small demons:
Slimey demon called pleghm put on plate. Choked it down.
Gooey demon called mucous put on plate. Held nose and gagged it down.
Bleeding demon called pustule put on plate. Closed eyes and ate it, just the way I like 'em... rare... what I call the filet mignon of demons..

Now remainder of demons freed from cells. Must traverse hallway to end to prove worth and sincerity.
Little demons biting legs and ankles.
Medium demons pummeling midsection and bruising bits in that area.
Larger demons hitting head, pulling hair.
Even bigger demons lording over me, hitting with clubs.
Even bigger demons than those towering over me, hitting with brickbats.
Still larger demons yet so extremely large, very mean, hitting with clubs, brickbats, and battle-axes.
I kept walking, no fear. If I've dealt with customer service at the phone company, I can handle these wusses.

Finally the coup de gras...
The biggest, meanest, ugliest devil at the very end of the hallway.
Piles of skeletons all around, decomposing bodies. All that was left were the Depends undergarments and a scattering of baby pictures.
This devil had one big horn, one big eye...looked like a purple-people-eater to me... but his color was red, as in red skin and big flaming red eyes.
I said, "I don't scare easy, devil!" Then I decided on a different tact, to kill him with kindness. "I don't scare easy," I said again, "but you're afraid, aren't you? Maybe not of me, but of yourself!" I said, "And you're hiding behind this tough-guy routine, just being mean, so you won't have to face your fears...." By now he was a little quieter and I noticed a quiver in his lip. So I continued, "And being afraid all the time, you're not happy... but that's not the way it has to be...." etc. It wasn't too long and I had him laying on the floor as I stroked his big scaley belly. I was murmuring, "There, there..." Then as he dozed, I reached for a battle-axe, saying, "Let me lull you to sleep with some melodies from my sweet lute." I sounded all warm and fuzzy like Grandma just closing her story book.

I raised the battle-axe high and came down on his filthy head like Maxwell's Silver Hammer. As the devil's blood gushed everywhere I took a knife and cut off a very important generative bit below the waist, something I hope to sell on eBay. I looked back down the hallway and saw the other demons, now in their cells, in awe. Then I did something probably kind of dumb. I felt all sorry for them and ran down the hall releasing them, and last I saw of that sorry brood they were headed straight for earth. Not a good idea, perhaps... Or perhaps the missing link in the unfolding apocalyptic drama on earth!

Hey, I'm thinking in full sentences again!

Came finally to the grand hall, the pearly gates, the place with the shaking doorposts, smoking jets coming from the walls, beams of bright light flashing every which way, rumblings, thunders, flames. Looked around and saw no little curtained room with a man in it. This was the real deal! Heaven's most sacred chamber! I had arrived!

Thoughts ceasing... Can't think... Being overcome... Silence...

Monday, February 19, 2001

Now that was sacred! But I'm not going to be able to say much about it. Once again, things were heard that it is not lawful to utter. A sign posted there informed me of this unfortunate prohibition.

Once you get as far as the throne, you've got it made. And that's where I've been! See if you can top that, Walter! Probably doesn't matter now how many books you've got, does it? Or that you've gotten "at least one nugget" of knowledge from each of them! I've got the trump card now. It would seem that now I am the legitimate Master in this threesome. King of the hill, top of the heap.

Now that I'm the Master, I'm going to be throwing around a little spiritual weight. Time for some strict obeisance to my every order. No one's going to be poo-poo'ing me now. I've gone all the way, baby. And when you've been where I've been, you don't come back the same!

(I'd better keep my Mastery to myself, though, or within the pages of this secret journal. Because no doubt Walter still thinks he's got it all, that he's the top man in this threesome. No reason to step on his toes or get him ruffled up if I don't have to. I will be a Master in secret... Maybe I'll show it in my eyes. Everytime he drops on of his precious nuggets on me, instead of being wide-eyed and in awe, maybe I'll show him one of these: [drooping eyes]. Or one of these: [rolling eyes]. But that last one I don't want to be explicit, like full frontal rolling, but from the side, and as I'm turning just make sure he catches the last little bit of it. That will slowly but surely destroy his self-confidence and let him know this town ain't big enough for the both of us.)

At the other end of the spectrum, I have no respect whatsoever for Little Leon. That guy has all the spiritual depth of a bartender. I can keep him on a leash, of course, and keep him around, as though he has any hope. But even that's kind of tiresome. If it wasn't for grunt work I'd probably unleash him, aim his carcass at the door, put my foot on his bottom, and push him down the stairs. His friends never materialized, and his youthful enthusiasm really wears on me. I guess I prefer taking on the established Masters to Master them than I do raising up new Masters that might one day conquer me and steal my legitimate sovereignty.

I better pull back maybe. I'm talking kind of crazy. Must be the visions and things doing it to me. I thought increased visions were supposed to help a guy's humility. It's working just the opposite for me. I'm getting a real Supermind complex. And I thought such visions weren't supposed to lead to revulsion with others, etc., etc. This might be a temporary state that will pass. I'll bet it does. I'll be back to my old jolly self in a day or so.

When I got back, and opened my eyes, the room looked pretty much the same. I hadn't needed the mattresses and cusions. As for seepage and nature, nothing too bad. It looks like the suspended animation really worked in that area. I might have to patent this process and book out tours. If they've brought in new demons for that hallway before you get to the throne, though, that could cut down on business.

The trip back was pretty eventful, but nothing I feel like describing. I was able (for what seemed like about 14 hours) to see clearly into the Storehouse of History. This of course is where all the events of time are lined up and are waiting to happen. I didn't notice very many events waiting to happen after 2001, but that's for another day. The most interesting thing was this huge line-up of alternate history, what you might call the "What-Ifs" of Time and Space. Basically I had access to alternate histories if you subtracted from Time minor and major events. Like everything was there: World War I, World War II, Depression, assassinations; there was all sorts of alternate history memorabilia, too: such as the condom Hitler's dad could have worn. But, basically, you know me, not really that much of a history buff....I didn't bring back very many details! There was a beautiful sunset, and that's what I focused on. From that angle the clouds are kind of pretty.

Tuesday, February 20, 2001

Since my little visit to the throneroom I'm more convinced than ever that 2001 is IT. The whole Storehouse of History thing, the demons that went toward the earth, and the awesome rumblings, thunderings, and voices that I heard before the throne is fairly convincing. This might sound kind of funny, like a funny thing to do while in Heaven, but I needed to satisfy my curiosity, an item I've been curious about ever since I was a child. Oh, I hesitate to mention it, because when this secret journal becomes the "modern devotional classic" when the world is absolutely going to pot it's going to look trivial. Perhaps my readership at that time will take this as one little glimpse of childish humor in an otherwise bleak existence. I hope so, because I feel like saying it. I feel like just mentioning one little thing I noticed, or did NOT notice in Heaven.

OK, a little set-up. When I was just a child I heard it expressed fairly often that in Heaven, when you stand before the throne on the day of judgment, that there'd be no place to run, no place to hide. So the way I pictured this was this big monolithic judgment hall, where every crack is sealed, etc. And behind the monolith thing there is nothing, no back room. Like maybe it's rock solid. But I always thought, what if there was a little janitor's closet or broom closet or something. Couldn't someone maybe duck in the broom closet? And of course he'd be discovered and dragged before the throne for his judgment, but for those few moments he could thwart the edict. Well, it's kind of trivial, but I glanced around! And there is literally no broom closet anywhere in the vicinity of the throne! And yet everything was as tidy as could be! The rumbling, smoking, shaking, the whole tumult thing happening didn't raise or deposit a grain of dust (as far as could be determined)!

I know more about Heaven than any other mortal. What a rush, to have this vast intelligence about Heaven! I could write a book, but it's like most real things, it's stranger than fiction. If I told you, you would not believe it! The air is sweet there. The water is clean. The trees are beautiful. The mere words 'sweet,' 'clean,' and 'beautiful' probably can't do justice to how great it all is! It's better than earth, let me tell you that much! It's going to be glorious! And it's not going to be much longer, if all indicators are correct. And to think it started out as a bit of hearsay, from Ben. But now I'm convinced. There is no more doubt. No more qualms about the truth of this whole thing!

Only, I wish I had heard it explicitly said. That's the last thing that bothers me about all this. I still don't know. There is still room for doubt, if I choose to take it! The rumblings didn't say anything. The thunders did a lot of talking; they have the gift of gab; but they didn't get real specific. The lights flashing about were great for special effects, but as for communicating and satisfying curiosity, they're pretty lame. I didn't see any kind of big calendar, or gigantic sundial, and didn't hear any mention of 2001 being IT... which seems kind of strange, because you'd think something this monumental would be on every tongue. And it's not like you're exactly free to ask questions there. Everyone seems so blissful. Basically nothing can disturb them. So... that's where I stand.

And the things "not lawful to utter," there's not any verification there. Just a lot of weird babbling, to tell the truth. My intuition was able to translate some of it: I think I heard the secret recipe for Coca-Cola. the Colonel's special blend of herbs and spices, and how the Bush family can make such great baked beans, but for legal reasons more of earth I can't divulge those things. The spiritual things I was able to discern in all this babbling seemed like a lot of self-congratulation, various praising that needed to be done, and comparisons (such as "No one compareth with Thee," etc. --- that's not a direct quote, but it's very close). When you're there, though, you're swept along in the current of all this stuff, and it's tough to even think of what was previously on your mind. It'd seem the only reason I bothered to look for the janitor's closet is that this was ingrained in me from childhood. It's what I've longed to know for many years. And the whole "2001 That's It" thing only came about in the last few years.

So you could say: I had access to every secret of the universe and my biggest interest was whether there's a janitor's closet in Heaven! I could have found out when the whole world would end!

Wednesday, February 21, 2001

Well, we're getting toward the end of another month, and the world persists as it always has. That's kind of a downer. Even though I made the allowance that it could take all year, right to the last day of the last month, I was hoping it wouldn't. It would have been nice if January 1st had come and BOOM, the end. But that didn't happen, which is obviously meant as a test of me personally. It's a tough position to be in -- the position I'm in -- as the absolute center of all things and the one indispensable person. To have the ends of the world literally devolve upon you, that's quite a responsibility. It's one I accept, and in a way treasure, but one that comes with its downside. How much safer a person is when he's just one of the peon masses, those unwary men of the flesh who are oblivious to the truth of their soon-coming destruction! In a way, it's better not to know, because you can go on as you always have till BOOM, the end.

But I do know. And that's both my fate and my destiny. And, knowing, I must put this knowledge out there in whatever way I can. The "2001 That's It" website continues to receive thousands of hits a day, my e-mail is stuffed with letters from people in panic seeking answers, the globes are going out at $25,000 apiece. This past weekend when I went to Heaven, I come back and I had many orders for globes and combs to fill. It's kind of a pain in the b*tt to mess with packaging and shipping globes and combs, but the money's fairly good. The globes cost me $19.95 (plus tax) each, the packaging materials run approximately $2 and the mailing is $6.70. So, what's that? Around $40 in costs? $25,000 take away $40 leaves $24,000-something. The combs are a little nicer. Even though I don't sell them for as much ($5,000), they're a lot simpler to mail...just put 'em in an envelope and they're done! And the profit there is $4,000-something.

My other efforts -- making myself available to speak in schools, passing out leaflets, deep personal study -- are only the beginning of what I could do. It's kind of dumb of me to neglect Walter and Leon. I need those guys, at least for grunt work. I got to try and mend fences with both of them.

Speaking of schools, I have a school gig next week. One of the e-mails I got was from a very concerned teacher. I checked the headers and it seemed legitimate. So I'm glad I have my worksheet worked up. This teacher said he found my website very convincing, and wanted his students to be warned before it was too late. Details are forthcoming!

I'm going to write a letter to Leon and Walter. Probably two different letters.

Try to work up some ideas as to what to say.....

Leon, The work continues. I'm sorry if it seems like I've been out of touch lately. I've been involved in the work, and doing some reaching out, looking for answers. Remember I told you I was seeking verification for Ben's cousin's prophecy? That's what I've been dealing with. I'd like to tell you some of the details. And I probably will; you could learn a great deal from me! Hey, what about your friends? Have you got any leaflets left? Would you like to go with me to teach at a school? Sorry again I've been a stranger. I'm back. 2001 is IT. --Pulling for the end. Yours, Charles.

Something along those lines would be good.

Walter, I hope your life and studies are going well. I keep thinking about your deep interest in prophecy, and it was a real treat to meet you. (But you probably get that all the time!) I'm writing to see if you'd be interested in getting together some time to talk. Maybe I could get together with you at your place and look at your books. They sound very interesting. I have some friends who are interested in this work. I'd also like to share with you some of my insights about the end, which I feel is very very soon. --Always looking up. Yours sincerely, Charles.

Those aren't too bad.