1979 it was. God called. I picked up the phone. Now I’m a two-bit prophet. Dime a dozen. Except God doesn’t actually talk to me. I just know stuff. I don’t talk about that stuff much because it freaks people out, and then I feel kind of weird afterward—Geez, why’d I go off and say that for.
Happened last night. I was talking to a group of nice folks at a family camp. It was going real well too. They liked me. Then I had to go off and say that the terrorists are going to get a nuke and use it. They got very quiet after that. So I ignored my own implications and pretended I hadn’t said it. Afterward a lady came up to me and told me I’d made her depressed with the nuke comment. Some people just can’t take a joke.
But that’s the story of my prophetic life. When I say what I really think, shit flies. But I can’t help it. I am in touch with the brute heart of the earth and sky. I explode and flow like Vesuvius. I back up like a bad toilet.
So I thought I’d clandestinely appear here, a voice in the cyber wilderness, and just let it go. Raw, ecstatic, and sure as hell not ready for prime time. But it will be what I really think. No, make that what I really know.
This is prophecy, man. The real deal. Which means you probably have no idea. No idea at all.
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“You have no idea?”
I’ve heard that, sounds vaguely familiar Also from a prophet, much like yourself
Your terrorist,nuke comment in my humble opinion was just a taste of truth nobody wants to acknowledge, and temporarily didn’t want to deal with, but know it’s inevitible.