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I'm reading a lot of the delicious, malicious comments of Kossacks in secular, liberal places about the Ascent. Sorry to disappoint, but it's real. And it's already begun.

Out here under the shadow of the Blue Ridge, where I'm currently hiding, there are (were) a lot of actual Biblical literalists and yes, they started the Big Jump early this morning. It's quiet out here, so you could hear the Final Trump. You guys may have missed it in your godless cities, what with all the traffic noise and rap music, but it was clear as day.

And up they went, quicker than Ed Asner's character in that balloon cartoon, naked as jaybirds. It was truly amazing, especially considering the girth of some of 'em.

Over the last hour, as the few stragglers were swept up--borderline righteous, I'm guessing, in need of appeal review--it occurred to me that all those jokes about, "When Jesus comes back, I'm taking your stuff" were really a decent plan. Like the "Twenty Days to Wealth and Security" books.

'Cept I don't expect to have twenty days before a lot of other people catch on, so I'm springing into action now.

First, transport. I've thought about the usual cliches, Mercedes, Hummer, etc., but decided that's not really me. However. . . there's a fellow up the road's just finished restoring this sweetheart 64 Impala, two tone white and baby blue with a grey interior. After getting the finish buttery smooth, the idiot ruined it with one of those little silver fish on the back, so I figure he's gone. Hello, sweet Detroit steel.

What's that? Gasoline. Um, do you really think anyone in the petroleum industry is heaven-bound? Really? There'll be plenty of gas.

So, down the road I go. Second shopping priority, new digs. Since I have my choice of everything from seaside second homes on the Gulf to McMansions 'cross the world, this was a puzzler at first, but the answer came to me.

Have you ever been riding on the Blue Ridge Parkway and gotten off at a certain exit near Tunnel Road in Asheville? There, just off the Parkway and convenient to town, sits Billy Graham's family compound, and man, is it sweet. The Lord sure did reward that bunch for their toiling in the fields of faith and now that it's newly vacant, it's going to make a perfect Vor HQ.

Food shouldn't be a problem. Despite the image of the stoic Christian family farmer, most chow in America's now produced by soulless corporations employing foreign--mostly Catholic, Muslim, etc--laborers. Hell, with the demand sharply reduced, I'll bet prices even drop.

The non-essentials but enjoyables will still be plentiful. Dogma didn't seem to prevent many of the faithful from partaking of fine alcohol, weed, smokes and porn. Same thing with the means of self-protection. Just a quick check of a few now-vacant houses around here has yielded more than enough firepower to hold off a heathen zombie army easy.

So that's my plan, while the former neighbors stroll the boulevard of gold to sing praises by the Great Throne, I'm gonna be cruising down Easy Street to my new fine ass compound, road hog packed to the roof with the treasures of this world which, though they may rust and gather dust, come in pretty handy down here, bub.

So, what are your plans for the afternoon? If you're in the area, look me up. I'll be on the terrace chomping down righteous Graham Fam lobster kabobs and sipping some Cab Franc.

Do ring the bell, though. The scope on this new Mauser's wicked accurate.

Okay, fair warning this time: GF and I are about to get back on the highway, so I won't be able to see your brilliant commentary 'til this evening. Best to unrec this claptrap and let it slide down the recent column to the anonymous oblivion it deserves.

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