Tetherd Cow Ahead

In case you were wondering, faithful Acowlytes, Prophet Peter Popoff still regularly communicates with me, albeit in a conversation that is fairly one-sided. He still hasn’t managed ever to respond to my questions, and one must consider that the silence after my last heartfelt offering has been decidedly chilly.

Previously, as you will recall, I had gotten a little excited that I am the only one who has made any money out of our exchange, but evidently my crowing has come to Prophet Pete’s attention. Today I received a missive in which he asks for his money back again:

Of course, that’s never going to happen, especially when he goes on to tell me that he ‘must do something very spiritual and private’ with the money. I think we all have a pretty good idea what kinds of things Prophet Pete does in the apse when no-one is around.

I am making quite a collection of Peter Popoff paraphernalia though, including, not before time, the elusive Dead Sea Salt, which arrived a few weeks back.

Prophet Pete must have known how much I’d been anticipating it – he couldn’t stop himself from scrawling his excitement on the front of the envelope:

Indeed, it excited someone in the post office too, because before it arrived in my letterbox the letter had quite obviously been opened and then sticky-taped closed again:

And lest you think it was a mistake, and the letter was ‘opened in error’, a second envelope inside the first one (Prophet Pete is very fond of a little envelope-in-envelope action) was opened also:

But the Dead Sea Salt was still in there, so I can only assume that the snoop didn’t truly understand the value of the contents.*

I’ve added the little salty baggy to my expanding Prophet Peter Popoff portmanteau, along with some other recent acquisitions – a golden Disk of Healing, another ten thousand dollar note, a piece of blue cloth (I can’t remember what the hell that was supposed to be), Aaron’s Rod (a toothpick in a little cotton bag), and one of Jesus’ sandals (funny, all that Bible verse and not one mention that Jesus had paper footwear).

I am confident that soon I will have enough to open the world’s first Prophet Peter Popoff museum! Admission charge will be 2c.

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*Either that, or they stole the winning lottery ticket that Prophet Pete had thoughtfully enclosed…

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Well, as noted in the Comments on the Yuliya post, my Russian friend was very eager to get back in touch. I received her delightful correspondence within hours of firing off my reply:

Hello my dear friend Anaglyph!!!

Thanks a lot for your answer. I’m really happy. Well, I guess, my letter was a bit unexpected for you and maybe you were surprised. Frankly speaking for me all this is extraordinary, it is the first time I’ve come to the Internet cafe and used the Internet to meet a man. Well, I’m a little confused and even do not know what to start with.

As I have already said I’ve never used this means of communication before. When I saw your profile, I decided to write you as you are a handsome man. But I really didn’t expect that you would answer.
And now a few words about me. Well, my name is Yuliya, it is my full name, but my friends call me just Yulya. They say I’m a kind and generous person. I’m also a religious woman and go to church regularly. As you know, I’m 32. I used to be married but my husband died 3 years ago and now I live just with my dad. I’m quite a tall woman (170 sm) and weighs 55 kg. I was born on the first of June, 1976. I am Twins. And as it is the beginning of summer, I like when it is warm outside and all is green.
My favourite colour is red. I like tulips very much. These flowers are associated with spring and sun. They usually bloom in March. Like many women I also like roses.

I can call myself a backwoodsman as I was born in a far away Russian city Murom. To be more exact in a village nearby but after some time my parents decided to move to the city. After finishing the school I studied in State Pedagogical University at the faculty of History. At first I worked as a teacher in a school but for the last 4 years I’ve been working in a library. Though I do not earn a lot, I enjoy this job greatly. Sometimes I’ve got a chance to have some extra work, e.g. give some private lessons at home, and prepare students to exams and entering to some Institutions. However it is quite hard to combine all this as I work 5-6 days a week and from time to time I have to take some work home. Besides we’ve got a lot of extra events at work such as exhibitions, open classes, meeting with writers, poets and painters.

Well, I hope you are not bored reading all this. What else can I tell you?

As for my hobbies I’m fond of cooking very much. I’m really good at it and can imagine a great number of recipes. It is only necessary to have some free time, a lot of products and then I can cook a magnificent meal.

Well, I guess that is all in short. It is a very serious step in my life as I decided to get acquainted with a man, write him first and do all this with the help of the Internet. I just wanted to find my good fortune here. Anyway nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I just want you to know that I’m a very serious person and I’m not playing any games. I’m an educated middle aged woman and want to find a real man. It doesn’t matter how old he is, whether he is rich or not, the most important thing is to love and respect each other and all left can be gained together. Besides that is not important where he lives as I will come to him anywhere if I feel that he really needs me. However I’ve never been to other countries but do believe there can’t be any obstacles for a real love. Maybe I’m naive and still believe in love. But I am sure I’ll be happy.

Dear, Anaglyph I will look forward to getting your letter. Could you write me about yourself, your family, traditions, where you live, what countries you visited and what you know about Russia.

So, wish you all the best.
Take care.
Regards, your new friend from Russia, Yulya!

I replied post haste, this time in English. Let’s see if I can get her to actually read my letter, rather than fob me off with another generic reply:

Hello Gorgeous Yuliya!

May I call you Yulya at this early stage? I don’t want to get too personal, but even though I don’t know you well I feel already that we might become very good friends!

Yulya, your prompt reply made my heart leap! I thought that when I sent off my letter I might never hear from you again, since that has often been the way in my dealings with women. Imagine my surprise to find your letter and three photos when I checked my mail this morning. I must say, you are a very attractive woman, and do not look at all like you could be 32 years of age!

I am very interested to hear that you are a twin. I wonder if you have a picture of yourself and your sibling. Are you both girls, or is your twin a brother? Does your twin like double jokes, since you yourself do not seem so keen on them?

Yulya, I am concerned that you did not respond to my questions about humour in my other letter – did you like my joke? I wonder if it translates the same into Russian? Do they have Buddhism in Murom? Do they have hotdogs in Murom?

I am very pleased to hear that you attend church regularly. As you know, I am a Reverend at the Church of the Tetherd Cow and I have told my congregation about you. They are all very excited that I have found a new friend from Russia. It all seems so foreign to us! They are also very eager to hear more news from Murom.

Today was a great day for me Yulya – I received a telephone call from my agent in Argentina who says that the demand for chupacabras is very high at the moment, in spite of the global financial problems. He expects that I should be able to send two shipments from my farm in Ireland this year – that should mean a very good profit for my company!

I loved seeing your pictures and would like to see more! I have included some pictures of me this time – there is one of me on my farm (chupacabras in background – yes, I am very brave to be so close!).

I have also sent you a couple of other pictures of me, all taken this year (I guess you have seen some of them on my profile).

Don’t worry about the other people in the photographs – they are very dishonest people who have been quite hurtful to me in this last year. That is a part of my life that I don’t want to think about too much now, so I won’t go into that. Let’s just say that that these people have cheated me out of a large amount of money and that I expect it to be returned soon when the trial finishes.

Well Yulya, I had best finish up for the moment. I need to go out on the farm and feed some babies to the chupacabras. It’s very hard work, but it pays well, so I don’t complain. I hope this finds you well, and I would love to hear more about you and all parts of your life.

Your new friend
Reverend Anaglyph
Church of the Tetherd Cow

PS – You asked what I know about Russia, and I have to say ‘Not very much!’ As you know, I was quite surprised to read your email, not having actually written to anyone in Russia.

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Just in case anyone is concerned that ‘Yuliya’ is a real person, let me assure you that she is not. The address that she first contacted me on is one of my public email addresses that is spammed about three or four hundred times a day. ‘Yuliya’s’ letter is only one of dozens like this that I’ve read. At the very least ‘she’ is being duplicitous (she never ‘saw my profile’ anywhere, nor got my email address through any legitimate channels), and I fully expect her to ask me for money in one or two emails. I detest scammers and fraudsters of all breeds, so I have no compunction making her the butt of Cow humour.

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As it seems that Prophet Peter Popoff is letting his attention slip in regard to the matter of making me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams, I thought it was time I fired off a little reminder to him, along with some appropriate aides-mémoire. He appears more than keen to send me an evidently never-ending stream of trinkets so the least I can do is reciprocate.

I think he will be impressed with the accompanying prayer aids. I know I was. Here is the ten thousand dollars I’m donating to his ministry (you’ve seen that before of course).

Here is the paper facsimile of Jesus.

And here are the genuine nails from the cross.

They make a very attractive package!

I’m off to the post box now. I’m looking forward to my imminent wealth, and I just want to say here and now that I’m not going to forget a single one of you – when Prophet Pete comes through with the goods, there’s a big party at my place and plane tickets and accomodation for all international Acowlytes.

All of you, quick smart, off to pray now – big things are just around the corner! I can feel the flowings in my water!

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*Pat. Pending

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I haven’t heard much from Peter Popoff for a few months, but this week (perhaps fearing that the Easter Bunny might steal his thunder) Prophet Pete has showered me with some very imaginative gifts indeed.

Yes, this exciting ‘audit controlled package’ was full to the brim with Popoff Fun. First of all, with this latest epistle, he’s delivered me some ACTUAL MONEY! Yes, that’s right folks, you read correctly. Peter Popoff sent me money!

Well, OK, so it’s only two pennies, but on balance, Peter Popoff has given me money, and I haven’t given him anything (well, except for some nard, maybe, but I already had that to hand). Prophet Pete also pretended to give me a much larger amount of money…

…but even a foreigner like me is not going to fall for that one. Aside from the fact that Ulysses S. Grant already appears on the US $50 bill, this supposed Ten Thousand Dollar Drinking Voucher is approximately twice the size it should be, and shiny. Nevertheless, I will be attempting to put it to good use, as you will see in a forthcoming edition of The Cow.

Diving back into the awesome lucky dip of Easter goodies I uncovered a BLOOD RED BRACELET…

…or, what we have come to know on my planet as ‘a piece of red wool’. I am supposed to tie this around my wrist and do something or other (I’ve just stopped reading the instructions on these damn things – they are so brainless it’s like reading, oh, the Bible or Scientology literature or something).

OK. Moving on. Next we have a small plastic sachet containing a communion wafer and what looks (and smells) like strawberry jelly crystals.

Now, what happens with these…? Dissolve powder… blood of Christ… body of Christ… receive these symbols… the usual Christian hocus pocus, rendered even more ludicrous in light of the fact that we’re dealing with STRAWBERRY SYRUP!

I’m beginning to think that Peter Popoff is actually doing the world a favour by illuminating the absurdity of Christian thinking. No wonder Christians try very hard to distance themselves from him – it’s all a bit close for comfort.

Now, you might think I’d be grateful getting such a swag of presents for Easter. But I’m not! I’m starting to think Prophet Pete is holding out on me. That maybe I’m not quite as ‘special’ as he’d have me believe. You will remember that Prophet Pete has already welched on his deal to send me Dead Sea Salt – well, in this latest offering he says:

No, Prophet Pete! I don’t remember getting the mustard seeds and the mirrors. And I’m a bit put out! I don’t feel I can possibly carry out your instructions when I’m not in possession of all the ingredients that I might need to conduct your spells prayers!

Still. The one remaining item in the letter almost makes up for it:

What you’re looking at here Cowpokes, in case it’s not as immediately obvious as it was to me, is DIRT FROM THE TOMB OF JESUS. Or, as Prophet Pete has it: ‘Earth from near the tomb of Jesus’. This obviously leaves some room for interpretation as to what ‘near’ actually encompasses. I’m thinking that in this case, ‘near’ may possibly be a brick quarry in inner city Sydney.*

I’m supposed to send the Jesus Dirt back to Peter Popoff so that he can ‘dip it in the Sea of Galilee’. Along with cash, unsurprisingly. I’m not sure if he intends to dip the cash in the Sea of Galilee, but with Prophet Pete, anything is possible.

Stay tuned Acowlytes. I think it’s time I wrote back to Prophet Peter Popoff and perhaps made a $10,000 dollar donation to his ministry!

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*Well, if you are talking in galactic scales, that’s pretty near!

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In his longest correspondence to date, Prophet Peter Popoff is now offering to up the ante on his promises to bring me untold wealth. He’s evidently gotten the concept that I’m less than enthusiastic about his schemes so far, and figures he must be underselling himself. Which is well nigh impossible with Prophet Pete – he’s not too shy of blowing his own trumpet as you all well know.

So, what does he do to entice me when he feels he’s not being generous enough with the Lord’s Bounty? Why he DOUBLES his offer, of course!* In this latest epistle, he sends me ‘The Mantle of Elisha’ (which looks more like an over-sized napkin from some cheap fast food joint than something Elisha might wear in public) and no less than thirty repetitions of a pledge to pass on to me a DOUBLE PORTION of the munificent bounty which is rightfully mine. And all he asks in return is that I send him $42.00! Bargain!

Disturbingly, however, he quickly sets in once again with the pervy requests:

Yes, you read correctly faithful Acowlytes. I’m supposed to rub the Mantle of Elisha all over my body, and then put it in my bible and sleep on it. It would seem that Peter Popoff seems completely fixated on these bizarre and unsavoury nocturnal practices as at other times (I think we can feel free to hypothesize that maybe Prophet Pete has been hanging around altogether too much with his pal David).

After I’ve done that, Prophet Pete exhorts me to touch the mantle with my hand (who knows why he needs to single out my hand, since I’ve already been rubbing it over everything else) and send it back to him. Now I have an image in my brain of Prophet Pete’s closet filled with Mantles of Elisha that have been rubbed over various and sundry bodies.

Wait a sec… sorry… OK, I think the nausea has passed…

Along with all the garbage in this particular letter I found A Special Australian Update in which I learn that Prophet Pete is currently ‘re-organizing’ his television ministry in Australia. Well, if it’s organized like his letters, that’s not hard to fathom (and anyway, I didn’t know he even had a television ministry in Australia). He goes on to say:

As part of this re-organization we have also changed our mailing address. You will notice a new mailing address on the enclosed return envelope.

Well, I actually hadn’t, but it comes as no real surprise. That sort of thing happens when you get busted for junkmail spam. The tragedy of it is that the 14 reply-paid envelopes I have been saving are no longer viable. Damn. And just when I’d hit on a plan for them – I was going to send him, one by one, the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle of a portrait of James Randi. I thought Prophet Pete might be chuffed to see an old friend appear before his eyes!

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*It’s not like it’s going to cost him anything. He could triple it or quadruple it for all it matters. There’s some well understood maths in play here: A x 0 = 0 (where A is any monetary figure you care to nominate)

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Oh, please Spaghetti Monster! Let this one prophecy be accurate!

It seems that somehow* despite my best efforts to the avoid him, Peter Popoff has tracked me down to my new address. So after a brief respite, I am again receiving his pearls of wisdom.† And his obsession with me, and the need to reveal the fluctuations of his every bodily function has, quite incredibly, become even worse.

So now it’s 2.00 am bowel rumblings in addition to his previously mentioned 5.30 am flowings. Show of hands: who thinks it’s demonic forces? OK, and who thinks it’s last night’s curry? Yeah, that’s what I figured. Seriously, getting a complete rundown of the biology of this guy’s early morning hours makes me feel extremely queasy.

Mysteriously, with this latest epistle Prophet Pete has included three coloured rubber bands.

I’m sure there is some hare-brained reason for this, but I gotta tell you people, this time the usual infinity-pages-long incoherent letter went straight to the trash. I’ve recently been reading‡ the pdfs of the Scientology Operating Thetan Levels I – VIII on Wikileaks and I’ve finally discovered that there’s a point beyond which** the human brain completely rejects the addition of any further ludicrous gibberish. Trying to read this junk is a lot like taking Valium: you know there’s stuff going on, but you simply don’t care. Only Valium is rather more pleasant.

My fuse for the tolerance of religious idiocy is becoming increasingly short lately, possibly in direct proportion to the escalating exposure these yo-yos seem to be getting and the seemingly almost endless capacity for people to be swindled by the most extraordinarily daft nonsense. I mean, I knew Scientology was brainless, but folks, the scrawlings of L. Ron make the ramblings of Prophet Pete look like Bertrand Russell.

With so many people evidently believing all this vapid twaddle, I suddenly see myself finding uses for last post’s gadgetry.

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*As if I didn’t know. But be warned: a secret alias will be no protection and since I have your address too, Prophet Pete might also be warming your bowels heart a little in the months to come.

†Well, pearls not so much. Pearls are dainty and pretty and subtly lustrous gems. If we were picking an analogy to some form of organically-produced petrified matter to describe Prophet Pete’s wisdom, a 4 kilo coprolite would be a better fit.

‡I say ‘reading’ with quite some scorn. The OT material, the Scientology ‘Bible’ as some have said, is simply utterly incomprehensible. And not incomprehensible in the way that, oh, Stephen Hawking’s writing about astrophysics is, where you know there’s some deep meaning going on there but your brain just doesn’t have the neuron power to grasp it. This is more the kind of incomprehensible you get where you’re wondering, between when you hit your thumb with a hammer and when the pain strikes, how the hell you were stupid enough to do that.

**It happened about one third the way down page one, if you anyone was curious.

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OK. Now from the get go I want to impress upon you that I’m not making any of this up. Y’know, I just couldn’t in my screwiest dreams. I opened the envelope and this is what I found:

A cotton glove, a vial of ‘anointing’ oil and a plastic baggie. I swear.

It’s not enough that Prophet Pete writes to me about his 5.30 am ‘powerful flowings’ whilst calling out my name – now he’s evidently hinting that I get in on the act as well.

Let me see. What does he say in his letter this time… life changing opportunity… all things are possible… God’s hand touches you… Aha! Here’s the nitty gritty:

Take the enclosed packet of Holy Oil and completely cover your hand and place your HAND into the HAND OF GOD GLOVE… letting the oil saturate your needs. THEN FOLD IT AND RETURN IT TO ME along with this page as soon as possible after you place the glove into the enclosed zip lock bag.*

Really, I totally swear I’m not making it up!

Before you put it into the zip lock bag… TUCK YOUR SEED GIFT OF $20.00 into the HAND OF GOD GLOVE… saying “I CONFESS BOLDLY, GOD’S PLAN IS TO PROSPER ME, ELEVATE ME, AND CAUSE HIS FAVOR TO SHINE UPON ME. AS I FOLLOW GOD’S PLAN TODAY, ALL THAT MY HANDS TOUCH WILL BE BLESSED, AND FAVORED OF GOD, THIS SEED DETERMINES MY GREAT HARVEST THAT GOD WILL RELEASE TO ME.”

Now, is it just me, or is all this talk of oiling up your hand, powerful flowings and tucking your seed becoming just a teeny bit disturbing…?

The letter goes on for pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages and pages until shortly before signing off, Prophet Pete promises to send me yet another gift:

GOD HAS GIVEN ME 3 FAITH CONTACTS TO RETURN TO YOU… God told me to send you 3 sticks of gum.

I swear on the Noodly Appendages of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. I really am not making any of this up.

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*All emphasis exactly as it appears on the letter.

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A letter from Peter Popoff is always an unexpected surprise! Well, not really, since he sends them with unrelenting tenacity, but hey.

Like many of these Popoff Epistles, this one contains something, and I thought I might share the anticipation and excitement of the Glorious Gift with you all.

So. Guesses to what’s inside? (Whatever it is, it appears to be a few inches long, flattish and squishy).

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My mail redirection from the old house ends pretty soon and I’ll kind of miss old Prophet Pete’s dogged determination to get my money. NOT.

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While we’re on the subject of Peter Popoff, it will come as little surprise that Prophet Pete continues to pester me with his daft letters. I’m not so cruel that I would subject you, dear Acowlytes, to all his circumlocutious waffle even though there are many droll moments in his baffling epistles, but today’s offering is certainly Cow-worthy. It takes him less than a paragraph to get to the point (he’s obviously been tipped off to my usual technique of scanning the first page of his drivel and then chucking it straight in the bin):

You’d better prepare yourself and open up your heart and soul, because what I’m about to share with you comes (literally) from the very Throne Room of Heaven.

Literally from the very Throne Room of Heaven! Literally!

You’re imagining something like this, right?:

Wow, Prophet Pete is really connected! Are you scanning the picture to see what it could possibly be, this thing that comes literally from the Throne Room of Heaven. Well, on page 2 of the letter there’s a photograph…

Oooh. A sparkly gem in a ring! Directly from the Throne of Heaven! Maybe an old trinket that God has lost behind the couch or Mrs God has gotten a bit tired of! I rummage through the envelope…

Oh crap. Surely this can’t be it…

Come on! That’s just a bit of gravel in a bag. What gives Prophet Pete??? I speed-read through the letter: …very special object… will supercharge your faith… powerful ‘faith additive’ (wha?) … Aha! Here it is!

This extremely unusual green stone that I’ve sent you was formed as a result of a meteor shower. It comes directly from a very unique slab of anointed Moldavite from a large crater field in Eastern Europe.

So you say, Prophet Pete. It still looks like a bit of gravel to me. And I don’t know where you got this ‘green’ thing from. It’s a sort of grey. Gravel-coloured. Even under a greenish light. And, not to press a point or anything, you now seem to be talking not so much about a shiny gew-gaw from God’s jewellery drawer as pictured, as about an astronomical phenomenon with a fairly solid basis in science, which for reasons that are quite obscure to me are related to your ability to grant me Three Very Special Wishes. Maybe I misunderstand what you mean, and you’re saying that the Throne Room of Heaven is full of meteorites? Perhaps it’s set up somewhere in the Asteroid Belt? Once again I am two pages in and utterly confused.

Anyways, faithful Cowpokes, the letter rambles on with much impenetrable blah-de-blah-de-blah-de-blah which sheds no further light on the matter, eventually signing off with the usual Popoff farewell of ‘A-great-big-cheerio-and-can-you-send-me-twenty-seven-dollars’.

One thing you can say for Prophet Pete – he’s persistent. I now have no less than thirteen reply-paid envelopes from him, and I really, really want to make some use of them.

Acowlytes! Help me out here! What can I send back to Prophet Pete in return for his generous gifts of Miracle Water, holy wafers, paper leaves, shredded money, golden thread, Divine Fragrance* and Gravel from God?

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*I haven’t told you about the Divine Fragrance yet. I’m saving it.

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