When you hear that somebody has passed a drug test, you probably assume the person is drug-free. It’s a reasonable assumption–the testing is scientific, impartial and totally reliable. I used to think so, anyway, until a time came when I had to take a drug test.
Technically, I didn’t really have to be tested, but my lawyer (and while it’s true that I’ve started in the middle here, I trust you’re more than capable of filling in the important elements of the backstory for yourself) thought it would be a real good idea for me to be tested to show the court that I was drug-free.
Dude, Do You Even Know Me?
I smiled patiently at him, like a father who’s just been asked a silly, but heartwarming question by his four-year-old child. “You know I’m gonna fail that test, right?”
His smile never wavered. “Call these people,” he said. He handed me a card for Pee-Testers International (the actual name of the company is being withheld in recognition of the great service they performed on my behalf).
My Memories Of That Testing Service Are As Warm As A Beaker Of My Own Urine.
Following his advice, I scheduled an appointment, and was somewhat buoyed that Pee-Tester International’s receptionist seemed to be on very friendly terms with my lawyer. Still, I was taking no chances, and procured some synthetic urine (yes, they really make that) to use in place of my own THC-infused urine. The specimen must be body temperature at the time of the testing, and since a buddy¹ of mine lived close to the testing center, I went there to heat my urine in his microwave and smoke bowls until the time of the appointment.
There were all kinds of wretched fuckers haunting the reception room when I got to PTI; I felt very out-of-place. It started to dawn on me then that PTI served two functions: primarily it was a legitimate (and accredited) testing service, monitoring the rehabilitation of parolees and drug offenders. But a smaller, unadvertised portion of its business seems to have been helping those who could afford it to beat drug tests for marijuana, which was illegal in Washington State until only a few months ago.
I Courageously Broke An Unjust Law That Was Eventually Changed. In This Way, I’m Very Much Like Gandhi Or Rosa Parks.
I had to wait a short while in the lobby, which made me nervous. The container of synthetic piss nestled in my crotch was still pleasantly warm, but was cooling with each passing second. I read a book while I waited. I did a good job of centering myself and holding my anxieties in check, but I was still relieved when they called my name. The practice, the preparation, the worrying–those things were in the past: we had gone live, and it felt very good to be getting on with it.
The counselor I spoke with was an attractive, empathetic woman who was maybe a couple of years older than I was. She was intelligent and well-spoken, but almost stubbornly predisposed–in spite of all evidence to the contrary–to see me as blameless. The only other person in my life to have made such a deliberate and herculean effort to so completely blind herself to my faults was my own mother.
No Matter What Kind Of Degenerate Shitbag You Are, Mom Still Thinks You’re A Gentleman.
“How often do you smoke marijuana?” she asked.
“Hmm,” I said, considering the question. “I don’t know–maybe six or seven times a year.”
“So not very often.”
“Hardly.” We both laughed.
“And when was the last time you used marijuana?”
“Oh, gosh,² let’s see…I think maybe last Christmas Eve.” This was mid-June. I’d anticipated this question, and had given it a great deal of thought in the previous days, as I had my response to it. It was a risky move, but I knew exactly the follow-up question it would generate. Most critically, I knew that my answer to that question would likely have a significant impact on the outcome of this evaluation.
Believe Me, Man–I Spent A Lot Of Time Doing Just That.
Her expression darkened, and took on a puzzled aspect. “But…you were cited for possessing marijuana just two weeks ago.”
I executed my line flawlessly. I laughed a little sheepishly and said of the incident earlier in the month, “Oh, I had every intention of smoking that pot,” I said, “But I never got a chance!”
It was clear from the first that my gambit had been successful. Her face lit up and she laughed along with me. I saw that not only did she believe me (or had chosen to believe me, which amounts to the same thing), but that she appreciated my answer, like I was making her job a lot easier by telling her what I was supposed to.
Think Of Her How You Will, But She Was Very Kind To Me.
But her final question caught me off-guard: “If I gave you a urine test right now, would you pass?”
I hadn’t anticipated that, and it took some effort to keep myself from showing my cards in that age-old liar’s tell of repeating the question back to her: Would I pass a urine test? With so much on the line, though, I managed. I looked her in the eye and said, “Absolutely.”
Her conspiratorial smile was endearing. “I guess we don’t need to test you, then.”
It cost something like $450, plus another $20 for the fake pee I never used (and it’s really not something I wanted to keep around, y’know?), which was an expense I could ill-afford. Still, it was money well-spent, not least for the boost to my self-image which is with me to this day. When I look in the mirror every morning, I can be proud that the face I see looking back at me is 100% drug-free. Don’t believe me? I’ve got the test results to prove it.
I Consider Myself Not Just A Role-Model, But Also A Paragon Of Virtue And A Pillar Of The Community.
¹ The same guy, should you be interested to know, who some years before shouted “Where’s your dignity?” at hapless Rocky dorks. ∞ T.
²Yes, for real I said “gosh.” In print it sounds silly, but I can make it work for me like you wouldn’t believe. ∞ T.
We Looked Among All The Nations Of The World, And Could Find None More Deserving Of Our Praise.
We’ll admit it–we didn’t think it would come to this. We figured we’d be rich by now, or at the very least the Rapture would have freed us from our myriad woes. Since it didn’t (it didn’t, right?), we’ve picked ourselves up and resolved to make a game go of it. Moreover, we’re concentrating our hopes on the admittedly feeble chances the Mayans were right in predicting doom for 2012, and that very soon sweet nothingness will obliterate the pain that is existence.
Turns Out Somebody Made A Calculation Error When They Came Up With The 2012 Date. The Revised Figure Is 1492.
Until then, though, we’re even more delighted that, last December, we were the inaugural winner of the Promethean Times’ Person of the Year. Now, as we say goodbye to what we call ‘The Year of Promethean Times,’ it’s time to recognize a new mover and/or shaker for his/her/its contribution or impact to our world.
Having outstripped the rest of the field by light-years in the 2010 contest, Promethean Times could be forgiven for feeling like it has an edge in this year’s selection. After all, no one disputes that Promethean Times’ many, many contributions to the betterment of society rank among the more significant developments in 2011. Still, the beloved news journal remains humble. “Would we like to repeat?” asks Smaktakula, lead writer, “Absolutely–who wouldn’t? But we’ve got important events to cover, and we can’t really spend time thinking about things like that. Besides,” he adds, “Some other stuff happened.”
Among that stuff was a string of dead dicks, despots and men of low character. 2011 bid farewell to a number of those comical tyrants who, through nothing more than style, a ridiculous outfit and balls the size of grapefruit, commanded legions to do their bidding. Osama bin Laden’s cringing demise among the fluid-spattered catacombs of his porn library taught us all to laugh again, while the image of Keystone Cops stumbling after wacky sand-despot Muammar Gaddafi in a madcap chase aross the Libyan desert gave us reason to laugh even harder. The ascendance of Steve Jobs and Kim Jong-il to their respective heavenly kingdoms reminded us that Gods too can die.
Among The Many Proposed Reforms Of The 'Arab Spring' Which Began In The Winter Of 2011 Is A Calendar That's Worth A Damn.
Fortunately, the world is in no immediate danger of losing its megalomaniacal dickheads–it seems as if for every despot hanged, another sprouts from the puddle of piss at his twitching feet. The loss of ‘Lil Kim was a blow for North Korea, but made easier when Kim Jong-un waddled into his father’s shoes and accepted his mandate to drive the shitstain of a country further into the ground. Africa maintained its preeminence for venal strongmen throughout 2011, with brutal racist Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe single-lippedly keeping alive the Hitler Mustache, while Julius Malema, an exciting new face on the South African scene, promises to continue the ruination of the one-time economic powerhouse. And throughout the world, Muslims continued to blow things up in protest of the western world’s inexplicable and persistent view of Muslims as violent and reactionary. The West countered with fiercely abject apologies.
Fidel's Still Hanging In There.
Another theme embraced wholeheartedly worldwide was indignation. Contrary to the age-old adage, “What goes up must inevitably continue to do so,” 2011 saw a further decline in the still-ridiculous standard of living enjoyed by the West. Like going out to lunch with Grandma, the belief arose that it was enough to wait it out, and somebody would eventually pick up the check. The jarring reality that Grandma died during a visit to the ladies’ room brought angry people into the streets. In America, this phenomenon took the form of “Occupy Wall Street,” a Tea Party for the under-40 crowd, who still like to break things and enjoy the novelty of humping in Liberty Park, where rank coils of human feces suffice for scented candles and complete exposure for privacy.
For Real, We Totally Would.--Only, It Smells Like Pee And There's A Ton Of Poor People Walking Around.
The year was momentous for the United States. Although ending its involvement in Iraq (kinda, not really) the US steadfastly continued interminable bank-busting conflicts in places like Afghanistan, while also embarking on other daring adventures such as temporary conflicts in Libya and a secret war¹ in the Democratic Republic of Congo. On the home front, the government turned its attention against homegrown enemies, like pot shops in California, while Operation Fast & Furious ensured that narcos and Mexican Army assassins could continue to terrorize the citizenry of the failed state and disappear the occasional American tourist.
The year began with the Arizona shooting that turned US Representative Gabby Giffords into a living martyr, and the rest of the nation into a gang of loudmouthed assholes. Throughout the year the citizenry continued the tradition of killing one another, often in new and surprising ways.
America: Where Our Unsettling Anthropomorphic Monsters Are Just A Little Bit More Patriotic.
President Obama was once again unable to deliver on his promise to make the United States a magical Care Bear land of milk & honey scented with the sweet strains of children’s choirs singing liltingly of the unifying joy of diversity, but from their bastions in college quads and Code Pink meeting-houses, the President’s dwindling cadre of true believers assured us it was Republican obstructionism. And secret racism. Republicans countered that their sole aim was to restore sanity to a beleaguered nation, and promised that only as a last resort would they burn the fucking thing to the ground.
The Bad News Is That Rome Is Burning. The Good News Is That Everyone In Our Studio Audience Will Be Going Home Tonight With Shiny New Fiddles!
Political penii² proved productive in promoting prick-principled puns, as well as gratuitous alliteration. The destructive power of the penis was ably demonstrated by Arnold Schwarzenegger, who showed us that even a wealthy Hollywood/Government powerhouse with an even richer (albeit skeletal) wife will fuck an ugly woman if given the opportunity. Late night talk-show hosts methodically shook every last droplet of humor from the Weiner situation, before putting away their pricks at the disgraced NY Rep.
For Newlyweds Lisa And Bingo Lamb, A Day At The Fair Is A Great Reason To Dress Up.
As did the death of beautiful paper-doll Diana Spencer over a decade before, the wedding of Prince William to commoner Kate Middleton proved Americans are still fascinated with the royal family from which their forefathers once strove so mightily to emancipate themselves. Although America does not have a royalty per se, the Twenty-First Century has seen the rise of a new class of publicly-owned do-nothings. Paramount among these is the vile Kardashian Klan, a bloodline and marriage-based conglomerate that may just be the strongest argument yet advanced in support of the Armenian Holocaust.³ Kim Kardashian’s sham-marriage to basketball legend somebody-or-other netted the vapid perfume-tycoon more money than you’re likely to see in a thousand lifetimes.
There were a few stars whom we were relieved to see survive 2011, not least because their delightfully destructive antics provide regular low-hanging fruit for Promethean Times.Toothless cretin Charlie Sheen managed to bring his life and career to a shattering halt, suffering the additional injury of losing his place in America’s most beloved half-hour of insipidity to a genial retard. Yet through a heroic lack of self-awareness and the public’s perverse predilection for the doomed, the former Carlos Estevez is more popular than ever. The same cannot be said for Lindsay Lohan, once hailed as ‘The Flower of American Skankhood,’ who like Sheen, is one of 2012’s most likely fatalities. Despite a loving and supportive family, worldwide adoration and impeccable personal hygiene, the only audience to prove capable of tolerating LiLo’s act for any length of time were her customers at the LA County Morgue.
It Gets A Lot Less Sexy When You Realize She'll Be Dead Soon.
Sport continued to be a necessary diversion around the world, uniting and dividing people not by races or ethnicity, but by the overpriced merchandise they wore. In American sports, Jesus, sole scion of the Jehovah Dynasty, briefly tried His hand at football before quietly retiring once again to the sidelines, much to the dismay of football fans in the Mountain States. Although a strike marred the beginning of the 2011-2012 NBA season, the 2010-2011 season ended in a thrilling contest that satisfied both haters of LeBron James and fans of Schadenfreude in general. In what was nearly universally regarded as a black year for baseball, the one bright spot was the continuing absence of a World Series trophy in the Lone Star State. And in sports outside of America’s shores, a group of Japanese ladies won some soccer thing.
A Little Bit Like Schnitzel.
With all these notable events and people, both tragic and sublime, from which to choose, our editors had an unenviable task in determining Promethean Times’ Person of the Year for 2011. It was only after a thorough and at-times grueling vetting process, at several points during which the acrimony grew both increasingly bitter and ad hominem, that the worthy candidate emerged. Promethean Times is proud to name as this year’s Promethean Times’ Person of the Year and our first two-time back-to-back recipient, Promethean Times, honoring the venerable publication for its indefatigable and often thankless dedication to fighting the barbaric practice of puppy-killing.
Bravo, Promethean Times.
NEVER AGAIN.
To The Dear Friends To Whom We Bid Farewell In 2011: May You Find Yourselves In Heaven Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead:
Amy Might Still Be Alive If She Had Filled Her Drug-Pipe With Harmless Tobacco Instead Of What She Actually Filled It With--Drugs.
The Thing We'll Miss Most? The Laughter.
CNN News Personality Anderson Cooper Was Too Beautiful To Live.
Sure, It's A Tragedy For The Ages, But We Take Some Small Consolation In The Knowledge That There's One Less Drunk On The Streets Tonight.
Quiet, Modest And Unassuming, Mr. Savage Exemplified The Qualities For Which America Is Admired Across The Globe.
Get It? We're Being Metaphorical. Trust Us, Chicks Dig Metaphors.
The Colonel's Friends All Believed It Was Gaddafi's Fascination With Thriller-Era Michael Jackson That Prevented His Promotion To General.
This Beautiful Creature Learned Too Late That If Something Lives, The Germans Will Find A Way To Kill It.
This One Time, When Smaktakula Was In Juvenile Hall On An Arson Charge, He Met A Guy Who Claimed To Be Jani Lane's Half-Brother, And Damned If The Kid Didn't Look Just Like Him. No, That's It.
Old Friend, We'll Miss You Most Of All. Circumstances Demand That We Dispense With The Childish, Insensitive Caricatures Upon Which We So Often Rely, But Rather, Respect Your Culture By Offering You A Farewell Not Only More Dignified, But In Keeping With The Proud Traditions Of Korea. In This Last Hour, Dear Leader, We Say Simply, "Sayonara."
¹ While it’s not actually a secret that 100 US ‘advisers’ have been sent to the DRC to help combat the Lord’s Resistance Army, it might as well be for all the media talks about it. ∞T.
² ‘Penises’ is the accepted plural of ‘penis,’ but Promethean Times has always been, and will forever proudly remain, a penii-loving publication. ∞T.
³ It’s a joke, Tanzr–don’t let it curdle your yogurt soda. Yes, what happened to your great-great aunt whatsername at the hands of the Turks all those years was a tragedy, but at least we provided a link to Wikipedia. That’s a hell of a lot more than the US Government ever did. ∞T.
Chehalis, Washington: Newly arrived resident Stavros Livskutchk intends to embrace the Lewis County spirit by spending time with local kids. The rangy drifter, who says he hails from “an Eastern Bloc country which no longer exists,” has taken residence at the KOA Kampground off Interstate 5. Starting Sunday, Livskutchk is offering boys and girls twelve and under free rides in the trunk of his spacious ’92 Buick Skylark. Preference will be given to runaways and children from broken homes.
"For First Kids Comink, Stavros Give Free Pöpzci. Is Like Pepsi. You Trink It Vit Your Mouth."
If your county didn’t hate veterans, it would find a way to tell the world. Some, like Oregon’s Douglas County, have found a way to do just that.
For Their Brave Service, The Least We Can Offer Is Lip-Service.
Some US counties are particularly rough on veterans. Lewis County in Washington State has been known to periodically round up its veterans and force them to fight to the death, gladiator-style. Blood-sports are a local favorite in that thrice-blighted hellhole, which is populated almost entirely by syphilitic knuckle-draggers. Or so we’ve heard. ∞T.
You Are Here, No Matter How Much You Might Wish Otherwise.
You likely haven’t heard of Lewis County, Washington. Named for famed explorer and suicide Meriwether Lewis, this quaint, cultural backwater is further from Seattle, Tacoma, Portland or Spokane than mere geography would indicate.
In appreciation of this idyllic patch of greenery, we offer the following haiku, which we call Lewis County: If I Never See You Again It Will Be Too Fucking Soon:
You cousin fuckers,
Inbred eaters of cow flop,
I hate you so much.
Enjoy Sexual Congress With Barnyard Animals? We Have A Place For You, My Friend.
Don’t feel bad for Lewis County. Lewis County knows what it did. ∞T.
Disappointment greeted the news of an unsuccessful attempt to doom Sarah Palin and Kate Gosselin by stranding them in the Alaskan wilderness. Crushed supporters likened the effort to other failed historical long shots, such as the Nazi plot to kill Hitler or the disastrous attempt by the United States to free hostages held in Iran. Said a supporter of the plan, “It would have been worse not to try.”
Fact: From Certain Neighborhoods, You Can See Russia.
Several weeks ago, fans of shitty television were promised the reality team-up of the decade when vapid baby-factory Kate Gosselin visited gun-crazy former vice-presidential hockey-mom Sarah Palin in Alaska. Sadly, as most viewers of Sarah Palin’s Alaska already know, the highly anticipated meeting came off with more of a whimper than a bang, with Gosselin leaving the set after storming off in a huff. Recent revelations that the producers were part of a cabal which hoped to eliminate either one or both of the reality stars only add to the failed meeting’s disappointment.
There Is Precedent: This Unsuccessful Moose Attack On Washington Gov. Christine Gregoire Is Believed To Have Been Funded By The RNC.
Several weeks ago, TLC* paid to fly the increasingly uninteresting Gosselin and her brood to Alaska, where they would spend the night “roughing it” with Palin and a brigade of production staff. Plotters determined that a single night was best, fearing that Gosselin would balk at a longer stint. However, as so many have before, the conspirators failed to account for Gosselin’s complete lack of character; after complaining the entire time, Gosselin left a few hours into the shooting.
Many People Hoped That This Image Would Be The Last Thing To Go Through Kate Gosselin's Mind Before The Bullet.
The plan’s authors contend that only an hour or two more would have been sufficient to spring the trap. “As soon as Palin and Gosselin had fallen asleep, all the supplies and crew were to be taken out on sleds, leaving the pair only the tents in which they were sleeping,” says Dr. Emil Haagerdäddi, an expert with the Center for Conspiracy and Mind Control. He adds, “The plotters were still debating whether to take the children with the crew or leave them to fend with the doomed pair when Gosselin stormed off. It came so close to working.”
Kate And Sperm Donor/Babydaddy. Let's Hope The Kids Don't Get His Hair Or His Height. Or His General Air Of High Douchebaggery.
According to one of the conspirators, it was hoped that the operation would result in the loss of at least one of the annoying television fixtures. “Best case scenario, we get them both,” says a man who will only give his name as ‘Patchouli.’ But the plotters made clear that they would consider the mission successful if either Palin or Gosselin were removed from the public scene.
Most observers thought it likely that the former Governor would get the better of Gosselin in a straight up fight, possibly cannibalizing the former reality star. “We envisioned Palin cocooning herself within Gosselin’s carcass for warmth, in much the same way as Han Solo did for Luke Skywalker in The Empire Strikes Back,” said Patchouli.
It Was Thought That Sarah Might Survive In Much The Same Way.
But thanks to Gosselin’s mercurial nature, the strictures imposed by a television shooting schedule and plain old bad luck, Sarah and Kate’s Wild Wilderness Adventure is destined never to happen. The world will go on as it always has, new controversies arising to distract humanity from the old. Still, in the coming months and years, it will be nearly impossible to see either woman’s grinning image on television without wondering silently, “What if?”
According To Beltway Rumors, If The Plot Had Been Successful, President Obama Planned To Send VP Biden And Secretary Of State Hillary Clinton To Alaska Next Year.
* Once upon a time, TLC was able to call itself ‘The Learning Channel’ while keeping a straight face.
Basket case Bethany Storro came to the public’s attention last week when she claimed to be the victim of a shocking assault. The 28-year old Vancouver, Wa. resident said that a mysterious assailant threw acid in her face.
Authorities initially believed Storro, since she did not claim her assailant was the “mysterious black man” of so many fake assaults. She threw a curveball to police when she suggested that her attacker was a mysterious black woman!
Despite Her Injuries, Storro Attempts To Lead A Normal Life.
Storro’s clever, race-baiting mendacity notwithstanding, the police eventually grew suspicious. After repeated questioning, the woman admitted that she had doused acid on her own face, necessitating surgery.
A police representative said that all things considered, Storro was actually very fortunate. “For Bethany to have survived for twenty-eight years now is really something special, especially given what a complete and utter moron she is. ”
Splashing Yourself In The Face With Acid As A Ploy For Attention May Seem Like A Good Idea, But In Many Instances It Is Not.
In which we once again present some of the various search-engine keywords used to find Promethean Times. Some, we suspect, were not on purpose. See our first installment here: Not What You Were Looking For?.
live aid Geez, you put up one stupid Live Aid post, and suddenly you’ve got idiots knocking down your door for the rest of time. Is Freddie Mercury really that beloved? Thank you so much, Mike Meyers. You too, Carvey.
humboldt promethean society Not sure if we can help you. The Prometheus Society is club for freaks too smart for Mensa. Smaktakula takes a dim view of organizations whose rigorous standards preclude his admission. While there may in fact be many such individuals living in isolated cabins deep within the remote wilderness of Humboldt, these reclusive geniuses are no doubt so removed from society at large that they’re unlikely to turn up on an internet search. Fortunately, anyone that smart knows to stay away from the demon weed, the great bane of the Humboldt.
narco childrenFrances Bean Cobain just wants to live a normal life. Please try to respect that.
redman fraternal organization Right here. Whites only, please.
criticism should 1549 “Sullenberger”We will tolerate no criticism of the heroic Captain Sullenberger. The birds sent you, didn’t they?
jesse sherrill senior rape trial 2010 You’re thinking of Jessie Sherrill, an accused rapist from Christian County, Kentucky. We’ve got George Sherrill, whose late-inning incompetence doesn’t look half as bad when juxtaposed with a rapist.
kim jong il in united states Supposedly he’s in the United States secretly to buy DVDs and to fight female rapper ‘Lil Kim to the death over the use of the diminutive. It is imperative that the United States Government not allow Kim to purchase those DVDs.
garfield the cat pitchman Fuck his fat lasagna-craving ass. Promethean Times has never apologized for our Morrisist leanings and we never will. Fuck Nermal and Odie, too.
sexy man cock Fred, just stop. While we must admit we were initially flattered by your attention, your persistence has become a real turn-off. The answer is no.
billie joe armstrong’s penis We hear it’s tiny. Tommy Lee’s joint, however–now, that’s a penis.
johnston’s procedure penisA procedure to remedy “Torsion of the penis” which sounds pretty awful, and makes Smaktakula a bit of a dick for including it here.
john bobbit penis + picture It’s in your bathroom above the sink. Try looking at eye level.
have proven have proved Look, Smaktakula’s grammar is pretty goddamn good, but everybody makes mistakes. You think this is easy? You think it’s just talking like an Oxford ponce and liberally peppering the whole thing with vulgarities? Okay, so maybe it is–but let’s see you try it, cock-knocker. But then, we have an unfortunate tendency to over-analyze.
Religions have long been in the business of promulgating wacky theories: the Immaculate Conception, Lord Brahma’s birth from a lotus flower grown from Vishnu’s navel, the prospect of 72 black-eyed virgins upon martyrdom. But some religions, unwilling to be lumped in with the merely slightly bizarre rank-and-file, go the extra mile to prove they’re just a little bit crazier than the rest. The Ramtha Cult is one of these.
JZ Knight founded Ramtha’s School of Enlightenment in Yelm, Washington back in 1987. Knight is lucky enough to be the host of Ramtha, a 35,000 year old Lemurian warrior.
A Howler Monkey + The Joker = JZ Knight
Knight conducts Ramtha workshops all over the world, and the church currently boasts a membership of more than 6,000 cultists. This brain-trust believes that with Ramtha’s teachings, they will some day be able to develop fantastic super-powers such as telepathy, clairvoyance and psychokinesis, as well as other improbable metahuman abilities.
Thinks: "Wicca Is An Equally Ridiculous, But Slightly Less Expensive Waste Of Time."
However, the Ramtha Cult is hardly the first pseudo-church to promise fantastic abilities to the most rigorous adherents. What catapults the Ramthafarians into stratospheric-level crazy is the Sinister Secret of Mt. Rainier.
This terrible piece of lore was lost for thousands of years, but was recovered through the valiant efforts of Ramtha, Knight and their legion of cultists. Thanks to the lightning-fast exchange of data in the information era, this knowledge can at last be made public.
An evil and ancient race of lizard men dwells in the dark and secret places under the earth. These foul, carnage-driven demons would love nothing more than to go medieval on the human race. For millenia, they have been trapped in their dark environs, festering with unconsummated rage against humanity, of which generations rose and fell, ignorant of the threat beneath their feet.
However, Ramtha, through his prophet JZ Knight has revealed that on an unspecified but very near date, Rainier will erupt with an heretofore unknown fury, laying waste to much of the surrounding areas. Those who die quickly will be the lucky ones. The rest of humanity will fall victim to the lizard men’s rapine abuses.
Yelm lies in the shadow of Mt. Rainier, and thus on the first line of defense against the reptilian onslaught. Ramthafarians have prepared for this eventuality, however, and have lined their homes with the one substance which can drive away or conquer the ravening lizard-beasts: copper.
Copper. Really? That's The Best You Could Come Up With?
Promethean Times 