The clock is ticking

brothers and sisters, counting down to Armageddon. The worm reveals himself in many guises across this once great land; from the intellectual elite cruelly indoctrinating our children with the savage blasphemy of Darwin, to the craven Hollywood pagans, corrupting them in the darkness of the local bijou, from the false prophets cowering behind our nation’s pulpits to the vile parasites in our banks and boardrooms and the godless politicians, growing fat on the misery of their constituents. The signs of the end times are all around us, etched in blood and fire by the left hand of god. You have but to open your eyes, brothers and sisters. The truth is that the Devil is here. The Anti-Christ, the Child of Lies, the Son of Darkness walks among us cloaked in the flesh of a man. Does the Lord not weep at this degradation? Does He not tremble with righteous fury? And shall he not seek retribution? I open my eyes and I see a black sky that tears apart and screams with a voice that is thunder, ‘Rise up, rise up brothers and sisters and take your place at my side. For you shall be my scythe and your face shall shine like a thousand suns and the streets shall be sanctified by the steaming black blood of the heretics.’ And together brothers and sisters, together we shall build a shining temple, a kingdom that will last for thousands and thousands of years.

Throws rose petals at Charlie


Do you know that there is a boy here whose mother abandoned him in the restroom of a Five and Dime(manus)? Or that Val’s father sold her to some men for one dollar? No. No, of course not. Who wants to dwell on things like that? We never consider the little ones. We only put on our clothes. Who can see the children feeding the endless, ravenous hunger of the textile mill, mechanical mouths that aren’t choosey: silk and thread, a lock of hair, a scrap of scalp, tiny, torn fingers. We only turn up the heat. Why think of the boys in the mines crouched over the chutes? For hours they sit, sifting the refuse from the coal, their backs bent. Old men by nine, black lung by twelve. Coal is heavy and hard, hands are soft and fragile; crushed, feet crushed, skulls crushed. Go for a walk; you see them. Poisoned girls selling themselves to men and women. A nickel buys a virgin; some are kept in cages. Babies, bought by men who raise them as livestock. Animals to abuse, soft flesh to violate, to tear and bite! ‘If anyone causes even one of the little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and be damned in the depths of the sea!’ They must open their eyes! They must open their mouths and drown!

What have I told you about reading Jack Chick while you’re under hypnosis?

I beg you, sinners and saints alike, do not make mockery at this holiest of holy prophecies. The clock is ticking, fellow citizens of God’s heart, the clock is ticking down to earthly Armageddon! Yea, it is true that Satan incarnate walks this earth, whispering filth into your ears as he soothes your worries. But you must not listen! Good people, you must be strong, and steadfast against Satan, for he is the father of lies, and when holy retribution comes forth from on high, it will be His truth which is illumined, and shadows cast upon those lies. And from those shadows, fire and death shall spring forth, burning plagues across those minds unsightly in the eyes of the Lord.

I urge ye, fools and wise men, beggars and aristocrats, men of all walks of life, let God into your hearts! Make your spirits light, and your thoughts be at peace. The grace of God cannot be asked for; it must be earned, through pure actions and pure thoughts. For I speak you this: come the day of holy Armaggeddon, evil minds and evil hearts shall be for ever purged of the land, and the Lord shall reign over His kingdom of Heaven on earth for ever. Amen.

um, …


don’t you know, I’ve been among you this whole time.

I’m of half a mind to start posting in tounges.

But then I’m of half a mind on general principle.

I haven’t said a word about Armageddon yet! Go back to bed! Both of you!


The end is near? I didn’t push the purge button for six months, it’s not MY fault this time!

Sin- EH?

Repent move away from your Sin full lives and Listen to Cross Rhythms.

Big Nutter (+Nutty Nat +WindyTWIT)
I think She’s Been listing to those Peaching Tapes again!

pfhaaw… there ain’t gonna be no armaggedon or whatsoever… or at least, we won’t live to see it… When the end of the world is near we’re all already wiped out by cockroaches

Man, stop living for tommorrow and start living for today.

This is so 1999.

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Edit: Bleh, link won’t work :frowning:

[Force Persuade] You’re going home to rethink your life. XD Oh, and sober up while you’re at it Charle. :stuck_out_tongue:

Lo ! 't is a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years —
A mystic throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly —
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast shadowy things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo !

That motley drama — oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot !
With its Phantom chased forevermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout,
A crawling shape intrude !
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude !
It writhes ! — it writhes ! — with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And the angels sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued !

Out — out are the lights — out all !
And, over each dying form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
And the seraphs, all haggard and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy “Man,”
Its hero the Conqueror Worm.

You’re a loonie.