Dear Prophecy

Dear Prophecy,

I'm going to say out right that I'm Multi-Tasking right now. Yup. As I type this, I am simultaneously listening to a television program all about Nostradamus and the mysterious art of you. I was just watching my usual Sunday evening football as I got ready for an early rest, but then I flipped the channel during an ad and found a show all about Edgar Cayce. That show was followed up by the current one on Nostradamus. And it all led to me deciding to write you, Prophecy.

First off, you is absolutely fascinating. Whether it's complete B.S. (as I believe it to be), it's still so much fun to learn about. There are few things that captivate the mind more than the concept of predictions of the future (especially future doom and destruction). As a curious human being, I can't help but wonder "what happens next?" I want to know how it all ends. If the world is going to end in flames and apocalypse, I want to know about it, and I want to be ready for it. And that's where you come in, Prophecy.

You claim to tell me just that. Through your vague references and confusing words, you imply all sorts of exciting things for the future of this world. The best part? Many different yous foretell an up-and-coming End Times - and that's just so fun! Because this is the thing - I have always felt that if the world is going to end, I want to be there. Sure, I'll feel bad for all the people getting blown up and all that, but at least I'll know what happens. I think it would be oddly reassuring, as I lay on my deathbed, to know that I'm not going to miss anything by being dead because it's all going to be gone. Because who really wants to miss out on anything because the world goes on after our deaths? I don't.

But if I AM destined to pass on BEFORE the apocalypse, I would still like to know what happens. And the only real chance of that happening is through true you, Prophecy. If a real version of you was to show itself, then I could read that and know what happens after my death - kind of like reading the end of all the books I didn't get around to as I take my last breaths. Not a bad way to go out, if you ask me.

Of course, that all falls on a big IF - necessitating TRUE you. And that's the problem. Because reading any of Nostradamus' (or other prophets') verses can quickly demonstrate the silliness of most you. All the verses are so vague and chopped up and randomly put together that they make no sense at all. From that knowledge, it comes as no surprise that nobdoy has ever used his yous to accurately predict anything BEFORE the fact. Instead, people are constantly going back to his verses AFTER something big happens and then trying to make all the vagueness fit the actual events. And that's the key. A little bit of common sense reveals that it's a lot easier to make vagueness mean something if you have a meaning that you're trying to attach to it. And that's why Nostradamus and most you is a bunch of bunk.

Which is really too bad, because I would love to believe in you. I really would. It's a lot of fun to think about and wonder about. I love to talk about the predicted end of the world (in the Mayan calendar) in 2012. I mean - that's exciting! I really hope it's true. But - alas - I know it's not too likely. And that's because of how ridiculous so many yous are. Which hurts inside. You hurt me, Prophecy. But you also bring me such joy. Oh, the double-edged sword of love . . .

But I digress. Whether you are true or a bunch of fluff is not important, because I'm just not going to stop reading about you and having fun thinking about you. That being said, I figured that a letter to you needs to have some of my own yous in it. And so I shall end this letter with some visions of the future. Reader, beware - the following yous are not for the faint of heart . . .

"And so shall the moontimes pass into darkness,
The Sun shall hide behind it's gloomy mask,
And the dogged Count shall see visions of darkness projected unto the Future Land -

He sees the Earth rocked by quakes and floods in the year of tree reduction and direness,
The Eastern edge shall slip skyward as the West becomes tied to the elemental,
And no man shall escape the grip of the horrid Blight;

A man of Evil shall arise in the Land of Crooked Temples,
Bringing great devastation in the form of fire and tears,
And only the banding together of Captains from the war-bound
Shall meet the Flayed Man with common fortitude;

And as the mountains bubble fire in the Rim of Mountainaiety,
The ice shall melt in the cold lands of Winter
And Summer shall see ice on the rooftops of the South
And we shall know that the End cometh;

Heed this warning, oh Watchful Ones
Dare not disregard the drudgery of careful contempt
Or all I say shall become Present
And the Count must needs shake his fist in magnificent suffering from his Earthy ashes
And say:

Idiots."

So I Have Written,
CVT