Anatomy of a con man...Harold ( oops my bad) Camping

I've mentioned a time or two in previous posts that I wanted to be a Preacher when I was a kid. My maternal Grandmother, the now infamous, at least on this blog) Clara, was a big follower of Televangelists. She was a big fan of Oral Roberts. No Granny jokes about the Oral thing. Myself I preferred Jimmy Swaggert. Dude could cry on cue, real tears and everything. this was prior to him getting ratted out by some hooker. Jimmy wore a big ass gold watch, a couple of pinkie rings, and suits that never went anywhere near a rack, unless you count the hookers.  I've always contended that regardless of my upbringing, family life, or any of the fucked up shit that may have marked my early years, I was destined to be what I was. What I was, was a not real great guy, a pox on society, and the bane of a few bankers existance. Looking back, I figure Jimmy Swaggert was my earliest criminal influence. Even as a pup, I could smell Jimmy's bullshit from a mile away. At the same time, I couldn't help but be impressed that he was able to hoodwink so many rubes. His church was huge. His followers in the millions.

One of my first hustles was going door to door with a green bean can that had a fake handwritten label on it that said UNICEF. One of the neighbors ratted me out after they got wind of me taking the neighborhood crazy cat lady down for a few quarters. Memory is a little clouded with time, but if I recall correctly, moms was still going to the belt back then. I'm pretty sure I had to give the cat lady her money back as well, even though I'm still convinced the old bat put some kind of catty hex on my dog Frisky. I caught her at Milgrams grocery store one day, bitch had my dog in the car with her. After that Frisky kind of lived between our house and hers. Mom felt sorry for the cat harboring old broad and wouldn't put the kibosh on her waylaying my dog. Said she was old and lonely or some such bullshit. But I digress.

The lesson I learned back then would have been a moral footnote type of story for a normal cub scout type kid. For me it was a lesson in superstition and what not to do. That lesson stuck with me through my criminal career. Don't hustle old people, churches, or anything to do with charity, lest the Gods of felonious enterprise smote your ass with some bad juju. Criminals, by and large are a superstitious bunch. Many criminals are also susceptible to their own bullshit. Which is to say, a weak minded criminal, especially of the conning trades often come to believe what they are slinging. Like method actors. They get into this role and then start believing their own lies.  I figure this Harold Camping cat is of that type of cloth, How else do you explain it? Don't fall for the old " he is a religious nutsack" school of thought. In 2009, the nonprofit reported in IRS filings that it received $18.3 million in donations, and had assets of more than $104 million, including $34 million in stocks or other publicly traded securities. This Camping guy is not crazy, but he is probably in line for some super bad juju, since he swindled more than a few old people and borderline retards out of some major cheddar.

I want to feel sorry for these rubes. Some of them maxxed out credit cards, emptied bank accounts, pissed away life savings and future security all at the behest of a geriatric hustler who was slinging God like 5 dollar rocks on an inner city street corner. I feel some sympathy for the old victims. Let's face it, as death nears, time is short, people are vulnerable, afraid of the unknown, and ready to buy the brand of bullshit that some religious huckster is selling. That said, I feel zero sympathy and have utter contempt for the tales of misery and woe that younger 30/40/ 50's types are starting to tell the media. Some trucker was crying in his canned chili over having maxxed out his cards and spent all his money on dragging his wife and kids to Cali to await the rapture. These people, adults with children who depend on them to be the voice of reason and financial support, need to be taken out and punched in the throat for buying into something so ridiculous. Spending all of your money, sacrificing the welfare of your children, because you  so arrogantly  believe that out of billions of people, you are one of 200,000 worthy of heaven, is a throat punching offense. It also proves the old PT Barnum adage "There is a sucker born every minute" .