Ah, October 21 (and another bogus End of the World prediction) is nearly upon us. Time for another round of cynical calisthenics.
*makes pleading gesture with Her hands*
*shakes head in exasperation and disbelief*
Ow, that facepalm stings! Now I'm angry. *pace pace pace* Very angry indeed.
Angry enough to make a prophesy of My own:
Harold Camping, you shall never see the rapture or the end of the world. You'll reach the end of your natural life and just keel over like everybody else. No angels. No trumpets. No nuthin'.
In 30 hours or so it should become apparent to the world that Camping's prophesy has failed just as pathetically as all his other prophesies. It may take a wee bit longer before My prophesy is fulfilled, but I'm reasonably sure that I'm on the right track.
In the meantime, I think I'll pop out to the store for some beer.