Why I'm Right That the World Wouldn't Have Ended, by Jack Sampson

               The silent echo of J.C. Meyers says it all. This betrayal is none of her concern, though!

            But have no fear; It Is I, YHWHoever I Am, cum to save the day... with the only things that have ever solved mortal problems: guilt-tripping, shame, and humiliation. And so, en garde; have at you!

            Sure, some will say “we should have seen this coming” - and by “this”, I mean what could only be termed “Meyersgate” - but that is not the Nature of the backrophcy! Remember: Miracle first, prediction afterwards! The Event can only be made sense of after it has come to pass, in Light of the old prophecies which the Event fulfills, and in Light of the symbolism which they reveal.

            So, sure; others will say “we should have seen this coming”, but guess who did not see this coming. Me, Jack Sampson. ...Oh, you don't know Jack? Well, to make a long story short, the world couldn't have ended, because of one simple fact: the world wasn't booked for the 11 o'clock slot. “All the world's a stage”, but a world that isn't booked can't close.

            Therefore, ergo, ipso facto... fuck J.C. Meyers. This pauper of a pastor has led this flock too far, and it's a waka flocka shame.

            Misleading the Order of Celestial Integration, and all its members, into believing that her skills at numerological magickianing surpass those of Emperor Ryan and myself!? I, the author of Time, Money, Moon, Value!: Financial Advice for Shamans, and Ryan, He who loved the number 666 (His only Son) so much that He gave it to us for half-price? Shameful.

            Not only did J.C. Meyers mislead us into believing that God had chosen the wholly manmade construct of Midnight at Eastern Daylight Savings Time, but also that He had chosen Meyers, of all people, to convey this Message! Normally this would be laughable, but alas, here we are.

            Aside from Pastor Meyers's theological and gematriarchal hubris – and the, admittedly, relatively minor side-note that the world did not technically end (at least not yet) – neither Meyers nor her God ever gave us a lick of warning or advice about how to deal with the potential panic that this End Times prophecy, true or untrue, was bound to cause.

            Why, just a moment after Midnight, I myself wondered whether the world had ended, and I'd been transported to Hell. For all around me were the cries and gnashing of teeth that you'd expect to hear in Hades; wails like “Oh man, I'm not gonna die!? Now I have to kill myself!”

            What horror, to think of what would happen had that lowly concertgoer known that the world would continue. How many lamentable moments of suffering could have been avoided, if only he'd have had the information, and could have taken his life all the sooner!

            Take this as hyperbole if you will. But there is no greater suffering than knowing that the religious leader of the apocalyptic doomsday cult – the cult that you trusted with your heart and your soul and your economic units - is just another Alex Jones -type conspiracy theorist who tells people to head for the hills because it's Y2K. Haven't We the People had enough of that crap already?

            And yeah: “What if a panic ensued”. Sure. But think about this: “What if one hadn't!?” I mean, it's one thing if the guests at your festival are demanding their economic units back for the world not ending, but it's another if they're trying to figure out why even a D.I.Y. outsider music fest that failed to bring forth an apocalypse, should lack havoc and bloodshed altogether. I know, it's bullshit!

            Well, by the power of Bill Cooper, I shame Meyers for her misdeeds. I hereby invoke an anarchist grand jury, call for special elections, and challenge Meyers for the title of spiritual leader of the Order. I additionally challenge J.C. Meyers for the title of J.C. Meyers. Shame! Shame! Shame!

            J.C. Meyers is dead; you all saw it with your own eyes. Thus, the avatar of Meyers hangs from the roof of this chapel like a cocoon, or stands at the pulpit like an empty suit: just begging for someone new to come into it, and assume its form. I repeat: J.C. Meyers is dead! Undead, undead, undead.

            Just the same, the Spirit of Jack is bustling in its chalice, overflowing, as it cannot be contained by (nor within) any one person nor persona. Moreover, Sri Meyers has extended an invitation, calling for more prophets. And so, I volunteer. Long live J.C. Meyers!

            My coming will herald a new era of transparency; a new Day in the accountability, and solvency of the Order. I will commit to using crypto-numerological magick to accurately back-tell miraculous and fortuitous events, while prohibiting its use for evil purposes, such as weaponization and accounting.

            Now let's put it all together: J.C. Meyers is dead, long live J.C. Meyers!

            I urge Meyers to step down; in order to end her shame as quickly as possible, and in order to immediately restore dignity to the Order..

            J.C. Meyers will fall; it's not a question of whether, it's a question of when. On this day, we proclaim: “No Masters But Meyers”.

            Ave Order. Ave Self. Ave Nostra.

            It seems I was right all along.

Written between July 16th and 18th, 2018

Originally Published in the August 2018 Issue of Issues Magazine

First Published to This Blog on August 28th, 2018