Jack Van Impe attempts to predict the apocalypse for 50th straight year

What a rotted old bastard. He's done it again, at least according to Wikipedia, which is a reliable source in any modern man's world.

In 2001, Jack Van Impe Ministries "won" the parodic Ig Nobel Prize in Astrophysics for its assertion that "black holes fulfill all the technical requirements to be the location of Hell."

What the technical requirements are, leave it to me to research.

On another note (related), he (JVM) also grew up playing the accordion, so we should be able to infer some information from that fact alone. In relation to the black hole-to-hell theory, it starts to become clear. More clear, at least, than his 10 year lead-up to the year 2000, which coincidentally coincided with my hay-day of watching Jack abuse Rexella mentally on live camera every Sunday night. Some how, I eventually believed her to be the impending robot doom that Jack predicted and I began to freely associate the buzzing resulting from the poor studio audio with the Christ Child. I then had a deep religious experience and fled my community. Look at me now Jack, I DID turn out as you predicted. Shit.

Now, I apologize, but I must leave. I must get myself straight with some key individuals now in order to avoid double-knee replacement, which is exactly what Jack had in 2006. Thank god for a lucky operation and Jack's increased mobility since. I only hope my fortunes are so good.

A Short Four

I remember best when we appeared together at the show. You in your yellow tee-shirt and me in my tattered vest. We walked briskly from the parking lot as we shuffled to maintain balance. The watch usually in your back pocket had apparently been neglected when we met with Juan Carlos in the attic only days previous. The basket that we brought our food in was confiscated by the local authority; at the time Lt. James Kinney. He had several formulas that he used in a decision making process as to whether or not we would be punished. No outside opinions were allowed. A few grandparents organized a coalition to bring out the truth. Your grandparents were involved. The show allowed us to release our fury into the air. One man ate fire on the roof. Nobody was burned. Finally our appearance had meant something to everyone. We proceeded to purchase some soda and tickets, then pick up younger girls and drive them to get beer. They agreed not to tell Kinney. Then they laughed at us and threw $5 on the ground at our feet. It didn’t cover the cost of the beer, but served us right. That night we sat in the side grass and shook our heads in dismay. The night finally ended with a low-five and a empty promise to “do all this crazy shit again sometime.” I would never hear from you again, this I predicted correctly.