Hey, dudes and dudettes, Vinnie's back! I took an extended vacation to lick my wounds after being defeated soundly in my bid to become Governor of Illinois. I took a trip to the islands to work on my tan and nail some beach bunnies. Needless to say, I didn't get very tan!
So I get back to the States, pick up my hog from the shop, and I'm driving along when I see this:
So now I'm like what the fuck? So I whip out the ol' iPhone and I call up my broseph, intending to rip him a new one for not letting me in on the big event. I mean, I can understand being left out of the family reunions, but this is Armageddon we're talking about here, not brunch at the fucking K of C's. But Ay O, Jesus says he ain't coming back yet, but apparently some whackos have been playing around with the Bible and their calculators and have decided May 21st is the date of my bro's return. Not only that, but they've decided to spend money on advertising the fact with billboards and promotions.
This Camping asshole is the same doucheball who claimed my brother was returning in 1994. Didn't happen then, won't happen now bucko. Here's a thought: instead of wasting money on billboards predicting the end of the world, how about you spend it on feeding the homeless, funding orphanages, or just supporting people in need in your community? Rather than spreading fear, spread some love and compassion for your fellow man. My brother would dig that a whole hell of a lot more. You assholes keep acting like this and he ain't never coming back.
For the rest of you, I declare May 21st to be Anti-Armageddon Day. Grab a beer, grab some booty, and party like it really is the end of the world. I'll be the only Christ who shows up if you do.