Remember Harold Camping, the 90-year-old radio preacher and president of Family Radio, who earned a lot of attention (and cash, it turns out) earlier this year when he predicted the end of the world would go down on May 21?
Well, if you can read this, it didn't happen. A couple days later, blaming his own flawed data, Camping simply changed his doomsday date to October 21, which is ... tomorrow.
Zoiks! And we haven't a thing to wear!
Though many Christians believe Jesus will indeed return someday, thus heralding the end of the world, the consensus is that, quoting scripture, no one knows the hour or the time. You can't tell Camping that, though.
This rapture/apocalypse/end-of-days lead-up has been a decidedly quieter affair than the one in May. This go-round, there are no Family Radio-paid billboards or car caravans attempting to get the word out about impending Christ-caused global destruction.
That publicity campaign cost Family Radio several million dollars. But Camping could afford it. As this Contra Costa Times article points out, Family Radio's 2010 tax returns show the Oakland-based network has assets of more than $104.8 million—up more than $30 million from 2009—and that donations shot up prior to May 21.
Camping, who suffered a stroke on June 9, just a couple of weeks after his failed prediction—perhaps God's way of saying "Please shut up, you're embarrassing me?"—got an earful from some of his faithful flock after his prediction proved false. This article from the Christian Post quotes people who were royally peeved at Camping, such as the guy who called in to Camping's weekly radio show and told him:
"You're really pathetic, you know? I wasted all my money because of you. I was putting all my money and my hopes on you ... Do you understand? I wish I could see you face to face, I would smack you ... Mr. Camping, you always say a lot of (expletive). I lost all my money because of you, you (expletive)."
Will the rage against Camping and his penchant for pathetic prognostications continue? Find out Saturday. Unless ... there is no Saturday ...
