OK, so maybe these aren't the best of times.
Floods. Earthquakes. Tornadoes. Tsunamis. Oil spills and gas prices. Birds falling dead out of the sky. Arnold and Maria.
As if all that weren't enough, some of your friends may turn up missing Saturday.
According to Harold Camping, the 89-year-old engineer-turned-evangelist and founder of Family Radio, the End Times will most definitely hit us here in the Tampa Bay area about 6 p.m., EST. And it won't be pretty.
He says it starts with a worldwide rolling earthquake that kills millions, followed by months of "horror and chaos beyond description" for the unrepentant sinners left behind, culminating with a lake of fire and complete annihilation on Oct. 21.
As for the true believers? They'll be whisked up to heaven, far, far away from the mayhem, and transformed into spiritual bodies forever united with God.
Humans can't help themselves. We love doomsday predictions. For the ultra-serious, it's fulfillment of biblical prophesy. For others, it's just an excuse to put off cleaning the garage. If the Big Kaboom is coming, why bother?
These days, thanks to social media, instant communication and talk show hosts in desperate need of something to chatter about, news of a bonafide rapture travels at lightning speed. This one's a doozie, spawning T-shirt sales, more than 5,000 billboards across the fruited plains, a full-page ad Wednesday in USA Today and oodles of money for Camping's ministry.
And to further ensure its status in culture, this version of The End has several Facebook pages.
"End of the world, May 21" was the No. 1 search on Google today with a hotness rating of "on fire."
Why are we so obsessed with this?
"We all know we're going to die sometime," says Christopher Martinez, a St. Petersburg religion instructor who teaches at four local colleges. "So there's something comforting about going with a big group. We can all hold hands and sing 'Kumbaya' as we depart together."
In December, Martinez published his "Survival Guide For The End of the World," available on Amazon. He writes about different scenarios from the perspectives of major religions, so readers can identify "which version is happening, and how to adapt the best way you can."
His advice: Stay calm.
"It's going to be a bad day for everyone," he says. "So please don't make it worse for your fellow survivors. Be nice to each other. Smile. Pat each other on the back and make bland statements like 'Well, it could have been worse.' ''
Camping says he didn't dream up his May 21 prediction. He says he spent five decades studying Scripture to come up with that date. He's calculated that it's exactly 7,000 years from the date when the Great Flood began. Noah apparently had the same troubles convincing his friends to be prepared.
This isn't the first time Camping has sounded the Armageddon alarm. In the 1980s, he warned of a September 1994 global demise. When that didn't happen, he offered a few other revisions, and then took a few years to regroup. Now he's absolutely sure.
Camping broadcasts his beliefs on the 24-hour evangelical network he founded in 1959. The Oakland, Calif.-based ministry owns 66 stations across the globe (including 91.7, WFTI-FM, in St. Petersburg), reaching listeners in 75 languages and at www.familyradio.com.
He's also urged followers to get the word out the old-fashioned way. Since fall, volunteers have been driving around the country in recreational vehicles painted with apocalyptic warnings. They've stood on street corners and in malls handing out Bible tracts and pamphlets that provide a detailed explanation of what's coming and how to avoid it.
Today, two Camping supporters were on the Franklin Street Mall in downtown Tampa getting the word out. Lydia Mallett wore a necklace proclaiming "Jesus Will Return" and carried a poster with the handwritten message, "Blessed are they which are called to the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. Saturday, May 2011 at supper time."
She said it was the commission and call of God to make this last-minute effort.
"Warn the wicked and the righteous," she said. "Whether they hear it or not is not my concern. I am to be obedient."
John Junstrom agreed. "We're called as watchman (in Ezekiel, Chapter 33:3) to warn the people that the sword is coming, but there's still time for salvation." He plans to spend his final hours on Earth enjoying the day with family members.
Doug Weaver, an associate professor of religion at Baylor University in Texas, says if Camping's latest prediction is a bust, don't expect it to be the last you hear of him.
"The prophet just will readjust the calculation – again," he says. Weaver thinks he knows why so many people are jumping on the End Times bandwagon for May 21.
"Look at what's going on politically, culturally and economically," he says. "If you think the world is going to hell in a hand basket, it's easier to want to get out of it."
But what about Fido? Bible purists don't believe that animals are part of the rapture program. Put your fears to rest. For a one-time fee of $135, the New Hampshire-based Eternal Earth-Bound Pets, USA, will provide a 10-year contract that ensures your beloved animal companion will be taken care of after your abrupt departure.
Bart Centre, author of "The Atheist Camel Chronicles," launched the service in June 2009. It's offered in 26 states, and he expects to add Florida by the end of the year. His network includes animal rescue groups and pet foster families who agree to take in left-behind pets and treat them like a member of the family, not "kept in cages or tied to double-wides."
Midweek, he already had 259 contracts – and that's without advertising or any other solicitations. He even raised rates from $110 a few months ago as the End Times fever started to escalate.
"If people want to give me their money, I'm happy to put their minds at ease," says Centre. "In the meantime, we're distributing the money to the rescue groups to put to use. I am pretty confident we won't ever have to execute our contracts."
And there's no reason for Centre to close up shop after Saturday.
Because there's always Dec. 20, 2012, when the Mayan Long Count Calendar comes to an end – and presumably, some believe, the world.
"As an atheist, I don't believe in the supernatural or the Rapture," he says. "But I respect the beliefs of others. I'm always open to the remote and absurd possibility that our perspective could be wrong."
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