“It has been a really tough weekend,” said Harold Camping, the 89-year-old leader of all of that end of the world bullshit, upon finally opening his front door in Alameda, California, a day after he thought he’d be in heaven. He said he was “flabbergasted”; he wore a polo shirt. “I’m looking for answers,” he said. “But now I have nothing else to say.” He went to close his door — we imagine he looked down at his feet and whimpered. “I’ll be back to work Monday,” he said, “and will say more then.” When he does, we’ll no longer be listening. Hopefully no one else will either.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on May 23, 2011