Things haven’t changed much over there—the Rapture is just as imminent as it was two years ago. The quote from Jesus—“Behold, I come quickly”—which some of us think sounds like he’s been having sex with Mary Magdalene again, but actually means he’s getting ready to siphon His chosen souls into Heaven—is still on the landing page, even though it’s been two thousand years since He said that. And He probably said it in a bar.
The Rapture App is no longer linked to on the front page. The speculation here is that the whole IT department at raptureready.com used it to Rapture themselves prematurely, and now there is no one there to do the updates on it.
The Post-Rapture Survival Guide is still there, which we studied keenly, because no one in this household has any confidence that they will be Raptured. Mixed in with the other Apocalyptic gibberish is some valuable advice—put together seven years’ worth of canned gods, gold, ammo and bottled water, because God is going to be sending some huge-ass meteors to hit the Earth and mess it up big time. Of course, if one lands on your head, the bottled water isn’t going to do you much good, even if you bought a couple pallets worth at Costco. Which raises the theological point—if you die after the Rapture but before the Return, what happens to your soul?
We might have to bring back limbo.
If you are alive during the Final Tribulation, you might not even be aware of it, because it doesn’t sound much shittier than everyday life on Earth, with the exception of those meteors. If God really did invent mankind, He apparently did it with the express aim of tormenting us full-time, in this column’s opinion, and if He turns it up a notch right before Judgement Day, we might not even notice.
What you should start looking for, though, is letters left behind by those who were Raptured. People are writing them as you read this. There’s a selection of them on raptureready.com, and they’re not all of the “neener neener neener, I’m in Heaven and you’re going to Hell,” variety, although some of them are. Most of them contain assurances that the writers have not been kidnapped by aliens, as some of us might believe when they disappear, especially if Jesus makes little machine gun noises--pew! pew! pew!—as He wads the elect into eternal glory.
People who have been kidnapped by aliens are completely fucked, apparently.
But if you live with somebody who thinks they’re going to be Raptured, they’ve probably written you a letter, and they probably printed it out, because there’s no assurances that the Internet will be around after the Rapture. They can’t have hidden it too well, either, because they want you to find it after they’ve taken the escalator of Jesus into the clouds. So, look for it now, because it’s the first thing that they’re going to tear up if they miss the Rapture bus.
And read it. Out loud at Thanksgiving dinner, if that’s your style.
Yeah, you’re going to Hell. Might as well enjoy the ride.