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Arrow The Unraptured: A Novel of the Planet's Final Days - 08-26-2008, 11:19 PM

Millions of Americans now agree that a certain presidential candidate is the AntiChrist, thanks to John McCains campaign ad, "The One", and the Left Behind series of novels.

With this in mind, I'm helping promote LBC Publishing's far superior novel, The Unraptured, by allowing public reading of the first 3 chapters here.

Enjoy, and remember to vote for the candidate that is NOT the antiChrist!




The Unraptured: A Novel of the Planet's Final Days
By Jim B Jennings and and Terry D. Perkins.
LBC Publishing, 2008

Chapter One

Rodstrong Iron's mind was on a woman he had never touched. With his fully loaded 747 on autopilot, it's smooth, round cockpit plunging its way into soft, frilly clouds that blushed pink in the sunset, he was thinking of Fanny Pairham. Rodstrong Iron was no longer a young man, but he was completely secure in his manliness. He was not the sort of person who would feel compelled to give any sort of blatant assertion of his male virility, even in his daydreams.

Steele's wife, Irene, was attractive and vivacious enough, even at 40. Attractive enough. But Irene's 40-ish attractiveness, he thought, could not compete with Fanny's youthful, 105 pound good looks. The first thing Rodstrong mentioned when discusing any female character was whether or not she was attractive, and Fanny was "drop dead gorgeous." Fanny's beauty eluded his powers of description, the only way to explain was to fall back on cliche.

Iron's libido had caused his mind to wander into memories. They had spent time together, chatting for hours over drinks or dinner, sometimes with coworkers, sometimes not. He had not returned so much as one brush of a finger, but his eyes had held her gaze, and he could only assume his smile had made its point. Rodstrong was always careful to keep Fanny in her place -- waiting for signals from him, while he is always withholding those signals.

He was no prude, but Rodstrong had never been unfaithful to Irene. He'd had plenty of opportunities. He had long felt guilty about a private necking session he enjoyed at a company Christmas party more than 12 years before. Irene had stayed home, uncomfortably past her ninth month carrying their surprise tagalong son, Rod Jr.

What she didn't know could not hurt her, and trading a few tounge-jabs-down-the-throat with an nameless inconsequential female on company time does not constitute unfaithfulness, at least not to a pregnant wife.

Irene, the perfect example of a good Christian wife, spent most of her time 3,000 miles away from home in Washington DC, running an organization called "Ladies against Women" an organization committed to telling women they should stay at home and sacrifice their careers for their husbands. Like Rodstrong, she must have also been looking out the window and thinking, as she had a nice office overlooking the Washington Monument.

Irene, however, was no tub-thumping evangelist. Her most common statement to non-Christians was "You just wait until Jesus gets back and proves we were right and you were wrong. Then we'll see who's laughing at who."

She could hardly wait for the apocalyptic events of Revelation roll out in their appointed order, each judgment more literal than the last ... famine giving way to pestilence, fire to the falling star to the darkening of the sun by a third ... the plague of locusts to the plague of two hundred thousand brimstone-breathing horses to the plague of boils, the sea turning to blood, and, in Armageddon, the Euphrates drying up. She opposed any busy-bodied do-gooder's efforts to make the world a better place, as these were contrary to the will of God.

Rod remembered how she had given him a one-sentence summary of the gospel just the other day. "Can you imagine, Rod," she exulted. "Jesus coming back to get us before we die?"

She would not be seen spouting liberal nonsense like the Nicene Creed, and its call to "look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come." Nor Apostle's Creed with it's gibberish on "the resurrection of the body." Irene Steele was not interested in resurrection. Resurrection is something that happens to dead people, and True Christians don't want to die. Death is scary. Death makes people poo on their deathbeds. What kind of Christian poos on a bed?

Chapter two

Conrad "Dick" Manley was a superstar, a kind of journalistic James Bond. The Greatest Investigative Reporter of All Time. Though derided by the liberals in the media as nothing but an aging hack ghostwriter of subculture genre fiction, he was in fact a world-famous, Pulitzer-winning, super-journalist admired by writers and desired by women everywhere.

He was also the absolute funniest person who ever lived. Every sentence he spoke was a masterpiece of wit.

At thirty, Conrad Manley was the youngest ever senior writer for the prestigious Global Weekly. The envy of the rest of the veteran staff, he either scooped them on or was assigned to the best stories in the world.

Global Weekly was like TIME or Newsweek -- except with a reputation for top-notch journalism. As the jewel in GW's crown, Manley was assigned to write GW's story on the "Newsmaker of the Year," an Israeli botanist and chemical engineer named Isaac Silverstien.

Silverstien had already been honored with the Nobel Prize in chemistry, and as TIME's "Man of the Year" for discovering a synthetic fertilizer that caused the desert sands of Israel to bloom like a greenhouse, producing organic material out of inorganic rock.

Silverstien's formula was fast making Israel the richest nation on earth, far more profitable than its oil-laden neighbors. Every inch of ground blossomed with flowers and grains, including produce never before conceivable in Israel (Belgian endives may have been among them, but it was not Dick's job to confuse his readers with details).

The Holy Land became an export capital, the envy of the world, with virtually zero unemployment.Yes, Israel had proven once and for all the ticket to prosperity and full employment for any nation in the world is through agriculture. Foolish nations that believed in high tech and industry, or in researching cold fusion, or anything urban-related, soon found themselves in debt to Israel. Concerns about subsidies and the problem of low agricultural commodity prices (the USA had to give away or even burn their surpluss agricultural product just to keep prices high enough for farmers to make a living) were proven to be utterly irrelevant. The third world, with its much more fertile soil, which had whined about American and European agricultural tariffs, subsidies and price supports, clearly were not as good farmers as the Israelis

Before Silverstien, only 17 percent of Israel was arable land -- about 854,000 acres. But, with Rosenzweig's miracle formula, it all become arable. 5,024,000 acres.

Because the occupied West Bank had been absorbed into Israel (Dick didn't ask how, as a journalist this really wasn't any of his business) this added another 1,500,000 acres. Dick worked out the numbers in his head. That was about the size of New Jersey, "the Garden State" - no wonder Israel was so rich. When it comes to power, Dick thought, oil is nothing compared to Belgian endives.

Dick Manley found Israel an amazing place to visit. Things had sure changed in the Middle East since Ariel Sharon's "road map to peace" had been abandoned, in favor of a much simpler and more effective way to end the perpetual conflict in the region.

The first step was admitting that there was a problem. The problem, the cause of all the violence in the Middle East, was of course that Israel was unwilling to make peace with her niebours because she simply was not yet wealthy enough. It was the lack of money in Israel that cause the 60 or so years of bloodshed. All along they should have known that all they had to do was increase Israel's GDP for peace will bloom like the almost-magically fertile desert.

The prosperity brought about by the Silverstien miracle formula changed the course of history for Israel. Flush with cash and resources, Israel made peace with her neighbors. Barriers to free trade, such border security guards were removed. Free trade and liberal passage allowed all who loved the nation to have access to it. (And all loved Israelis once they became richer than everyone else.)

What they did not have access to, however, was the formula. Maintaining that secret ensured the power and independence of the state of Israel. Israel, now a lush jungle laden with fruit, neither shared nor sold it's fertilizer secret to the third world. Nor were the hungry brown people able to steal a drop of the fertilizer, to reverse-engineer it. Anyone too lazy to scoop up a bit of dirt and take it to a labratory, Dick thought, probably deserves to starve anyway.

Never had Israel enjoyed such tranquility, during those 5 or so years in our near future. Not even the centuries of stability under Rome, Byzantium, the Arabs before the Crusades, the Arabs after the Crusades, or the Ottomans were comparible to the sheer peacefulness of those 5 or so years. The walled city of Jerusalem was only a symbol now, welcoming everyone who embraced peace.

Even the thorniest question of the Middle East peace process -- the status of Jerusalem -- had been easily and breezily dealt with by the solution to nearly all the world's problems, the growing of Belgian endives in deserts. The entirety of Jerusalem was simply accounted as a part of Israel, but everyone else was permitted to freely come and go within it. No one in the region had any qualms about this tidy arrangement, not even Al Queda or Islamic Jihad.

Dick mused on how 5 or so years ago not even the craziest nutcase would have predicted that decades and generations of violence, hatred and mutual mistrust would swept away by higher crop yields. Heck, even the millions of farmers who had become impoverished due to Israeli competition loved Israel.

Israels borders then expanded, soon they spread from the Mediterranean to the Euphrates in Iraq. Jordans Syrians Iraqis and Kuwaitis were now proud to call themselves Israelis.

Dick met Silverstien at a kibbutz where any foreign reporters could access him. Dick had not asked what Silverstein's Nobel Prize was for (as they are typically awarded for lab results that are publicly known and available, rather than secrets such as the magic miracle-gro formula) nor did he ask if there was any risk of side-effects, such as those seen in other chemical fertilizers, or in much more mundane inventions like, say, nuclear technology. Dick had not even asked the old man to reveal the formula - after all a journalist's job is to write prose, not annoy people with questions.

Heck, he didn't even ask where all the fresh water for these jungle-crops came from (desert soil is already some of the richest around in terms of nutrients). Nobody gets a Pulitzer for asking endless questions like some bratty kid at Sunday school. He remember once asking his Sunday school teacher why God gave nipples to men. Boy, had that spanking ever taught him to keep his questions to himself!

Chapter three

Irene gazed out the window at the shining white smoothness of the Washington Monument. She was thinking about Ezekiel. Even by the standards of Old Testament prophets, he was a bit over the top, and his book was her favorite one in the Bible, after the Book of Revelations, of course.

Perhaps it was his attention-getting antics, from the flaming poo, to cutting his hair with a sword.. Maybe it was his prophesy of Chealsea Clinton in 16:33-34: "Every prostitute receives a fee, but you give gifts to all your lovers, bribing them to come to you from everywhere for your illicit favors. ... no one runs after you for your favors. You are the very opposite, for you give payment and none is given to you" Or maybe it was his love of calling a spade a spade, like in Ezekiel 23:20: "There she lusted after her lovers, whose genitals were like those of donkeys and whose emission was like that of horses."

She wrote down a little note. "Vacation in Egypt sometime".

But then, she began thinking of chapters 38 and 39 which describes the invasion of Jerusalem by two kingdoms named Gog and Magog. That was a bit scary, because that could only mean one thing. Clearly, it meant that one day, 2,600 years or so later, two countries named Russia and Ethiopia would attack the modern state of Israel with an all-out nuclear assault.

What else could it mean?

Ezekiel 38:4 says Gog will attack with his "whole army." How horrid, thought Irene, that means Russia will attack with its entire arsenal -- thousands and thousands of nuclear warheads. That would kill everyone within thousands of miles, and condem the entire world to radioactive fallout and that whole nuclear winter thing. Those crazy Russians and Ethiopians!

She read more details about the coming war from the Bible. The wood of their invaders' weapons was to serve for fuel to Israel for seven years! Since the only wood used in Russian weaponer is the butt of their rifles, and since Israel burns zillions of barrels of oil, that means a very, very big army. Ezekiel also predicted that all Israel were to take seven months in burying the dead! If each of the now hundred million or so Israelis (now that the entire Middle East was Israel) only buried each two corpses a day (a low estimate, considering how many bulldozers the Israelis have), the aggregate buried in the hundred eighty working days of the seven months would be three hundred sixty millions of corpses! Then the pestilential vapors from such masses of victims before they were all buried! What Israelite could live in such an atmosphere?

Maybe that vacation in Egypt would not be such a good idea, after all.

Well, there's one thing the Bible has tought me today, she thought to herself, is Russians are pretty stupid people. I mean, if you're about to rain thousands of ICBMs down two cities, you probably don't want or need to send thousands of planes as well, unless you don't particularly care for your air force. Since the Russian arsenal is about 2541.75 gigatons of explosive power, sufficient to strike every square kilometer of Israel with 122 megatons (not even including the Ethiopian arsenal), those pilots are going to need some serious danger pay. Plus, with all their weaponery expended, the Russians will be eaten alive by China, Chetchnia and probably even the Ukraine. At least until the radioactive fallout kills everybody in the world. Since the Bible doesn't lie, Irene thought, Russians and Ethiopians have got to be the stupidest people anywhere, ever.


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Default Re: The Unraptured: A Novel of the Planet's Final Days - 08-26-2008, 11:26 PM

Thanks, Brother Jeb. I can't wait to read the whole thing. This is even better than A Thief In The Night.



Pour out thy fury upon the heathen that know thee not, and upon the families that call not on thy name.... Jeremiah 10:25
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Default Re: The Unraptured: A Novel of the Planet's Final Days - 08-27-2008, 12:25 AM

I havn't really been following the race, so I have a quick question: Is Hillary or Barak the antichrist?


Rev. 1:12-20 is currently my favorite passage.
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Default Re: The Unraptured: A Novel of the Planet's Final Days - 08-27-2008, 01:20 AM

Barak Hussein Obama is obviously the AntisChrist fool, Hellary is just a soldier for satan.


Gather around so that I can read to you from my book of TRUTH. Genesis thru Revelations....Pick one!

Luke 12:5- But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell; yea, I say unto you, Fear him.
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Default Re: The Unraptured: A Novel of the Planet's Final Days - 09-04-2008, 04:57 PM

Brother Jeb, if they make this into a movie, Kirk Cameron should have the lead role
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Thumbs up Re: The Unraptured: A Novel of the Planet's Final Days - 09-08-2008, 11:00 AM

Perfect. Would not alter a jot or a jiggle of it, for this pen of the authors' was clearly guided by the Lord, and not by Ethiopians, who can't spell nor even punctuate with legible marks, their damned and dessicated ground with their streaming urine. Stupid people. More chapters, please!
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