Tag Archive for crazy

Doomsday Prediction Horseshit

Whoops! I forgot to tell you: The world was supposed to have nuclear wars on September 12, 2006!


When you see a crazy guy in a sandwich board warning you of the end of the world, you usually just politely walk around him and yell, “HORSESHIT!” as loudly as you can silently in your mind. People have been predicting the end of the world for as long as religion’s been around. Eventually someone’s going to get it right — the end will come and boy won’t we be sorry for not having listened to him! Or the other 20,000 before him. You can understand why Doomsdaying is such a popular pastime: Humans have a psychological need to belong to a group, especially to an elite, exclusive group. Extra-credit if the group possesses special knowledge of the afterlife. Everyone wants to know the unknowable! Humans need spiritual connections, be it religion, drugs or psychic readings. Ever known a dude who insisted that India is as spiritual as it gets and who spared no expense to buy cheap tapestries and burn nag champa as the key to spiritual awakening? Humans need to feel a link to great power. Humans like the sound of their voice when they’re giving advice (myself included.) Humans are paranoiacs. Humans are assholes. Mix this stuff together in a reactive bowl and like a flavor-tainted marinara sauce, you get Doomsday Prediction Assholes.


I’m really, really, really sorry that I’m late in reporting the September 12, 2006 nuclear wars. I totally dropped the ball on that. I’d seen this newsleter before — My friend Bob slipped a copy onto my patio in April 2006 and we had a laugh about needing to get our shit together ASAP. Of course when September 12, 2006 came and went we mostly forgot about the doom predicted by the great prophet Yisrayl Hawkins and we laughed it off. As most people do. “My Dear Friends, We must warn the world of nuclear wars that will start no later than September 12, 2006.” Hmm.. Well I definitely admire his conviction. NO LATER THAN SEPTEMBER 12 is pretty specific! Far more specific than anything that hack Sylvia Browne would likely commit to.


Today as I was out at the apartment’s communal recycling bin, I found the old House of Yahweh Newsletter underneath a cat food tin, so I nabbed it and scanned it. I was again aroused with curiosity, so I searched the old Internets for “The House Of Yahweh”. Looks like the great Hawkins fucked up again in 2008, and even earlier in 2000 as demonstrated here. I guess the plan is to scare as many people as you can, make quick money, fade into obscurity, and then come back for another bite.


You can research his horseshit on your own — I’m not a debunking site, I’m just a humorist with a hatred for flim-flam. I have presented you with a copy of the front page of his newsletter for your amusement. Click on the newsletter and it will open in a new window so you can read the sweet tidbits.



[c] 2009 Russ of America
On page 3 (not shown) the Last Days’ Witness Hawkins gives readers permission to make unlimited copies.

Crazy Gideon Doesn’t Scare Me One Iota

To hell with that “Crazy Electronics Salesguy” crap. I don’t care if you’re New York’s Crazy Eddie or LA’s Crazy Gideon . I don’t care, because whoever you are, I guarantee that you’re not actually crazy, it’s all just an act to sell some crappy electronics! Oh yeah, I’ve figured you out. I got your number.


So, you crazy fakers, you can smash as many VCRs on your head as you want, I can smash three times, no TEN times more VCRs on my head than you can! Wait, VCRs? Yeah, I’m WAY nuttier than you! I’m so whacked out of my gourd that I’m still smashing VCRs on my head. You think you’re so crazy because you cut the price on an already overpriced vacuum? I can sell fifteen of your crappy HDTV sets for 99% off, go home at night, whip a neighbor real good, stick a ginger root up my ass, make love to my bathtub, fall asleep and walk back into work the following morning at 7:59 for a new shift of sales! That’s how messed up *I* am in the head.


You’re not so crazy, you stupid electronics sales guys.



[c] 2009 Russ of America

Venice Beach Guy

Someday I’m going to become one of those wacky character performance art guys at Venice Beach.


Why the fuck not?


What, I gotta go to grad school for that too?


Looks like a lot of fun!


“Hey, it’s Rollerskate Guitar Man!”


Everybody knows him. Everybody likes him. Who doesn’t like him?


Or “Guy Who Walks On Broken Glass.”


“Oh yeah! I saw him once!”


But me, I’ll take a different approach. I’m gonna be that wacky character performance art guys at Venice Beach who wants to make a difference in the world. I’m the wacky character performance art guy at Venice Beach who loves to make a difference in the world and take on social issues.


There’s no fucking doubt about it. I can’t wait.


The wacky character performance art guy at Venice Beach who loves to make a difference in the world and take on social issues because if I don’t, then the whole world is fucked!


I’m going to be one of those guys, I just know it!


I’ll finally let loose and unbridle the beasts of condescension; stake out a nice little area to accost people and inflict my sharp, comedic pain as I peel back the cheap veneer of their particle-board furniture lives.


The really hip kids will give me a few bucks and the rest of the dickheads can GO GET FUCKED!!.


: D



[c] 2006 Russ of America


Oh my god I’m insane.


I know I’m insane.


Everybody thinks I’m insane.


They don’t tell me that I’m insane, but they all think that I’m insane.


I’m not insane.


I’m completely fucking normal.


I am NOT normal.


I’m not insane though.


Am I insane?


How do I know?


How do YOU know?


Are you insane?


You’re not normal. What’s so normal about you?


You have an apartment? You have a job? You have a car payment?


You’re insane. You’re insane to the max!


YOU promised to pay the bank each month for the next five years. YOU legally obligated yourself to fire a regular monthly bullet in the head just so that ya can own a car. What’s the big pay-off for buying your car? Freedom?


Exactly what is your freedom, Toyota-Man? Where do you drive? Where are you going to go? What’s the big payoff?




You get to drive to work?


Every day? Really? You get to sit in traffic on the 405 and haul your self-indulgent ass to work every morning. Earlier and earlier so that you can beat the traffic. And where do you work? What do you do? Is it fun? Is it important? Could the entire world do without you? Maybe, but you’ve got a car, so when they come to burn down your cubicle, don’t sweat, you just hop in your car and split! Zero-to-sixty in twelve seconds.


And when you’re just about finished paying for the car, you’re almost out of the woods but then you —


Wanna trade up! Trade up! Trade up!


“I wanna trade up! I wanna new car! An Audi!!!! I want an Audi! People like me drive Audis. People like writers, people like producers, people like other assholes who are just like writers and producers!


I identify with Audis!


I identify with Audis because Audis are just like me and my personality! Some people’s personalities are VWs and cow-print upholstery. My personality is Audi. My personality is silver! And black leather interior and red dashboard lights!


That’s my personality! My personality is metal and leather and lights!


My personality is red lights!


Not green lights. Green lights is, “Do!” Red lights is, “Don’t!” And that’s my personality. I’m don’t! I’m not do. Do is boring. Do is grandpa. You’re do. I’m don’t.


Can I get an Audi? Can I trade in my Corolla? How much will you give me? Can I get the A4? How much is it per month?”


You’re normal.


I’m insane.



[c] 20006 Russ of America