Doomsday Crier Struggling with Sudden Burden of Legitimacy
Perched in front of the Starbucks at a busy intersection in downtown Hoboken, Wilbur Tressel warns passerby of their impending doom, while handing them copies of his self-published manifesto. Many of the pedestrians thank him enthusiastically for the heads up while snatching additional copies of the screed for loved ones, and a crowd has gathered to listen to his foreboding proclamations, applauding wildly.
Tressel says it wasn’t always this way. “A few months ago, I was playing to an empty room”, explained the amateur clairvoyant while adjusting his sweat-stained Hard Rock Cafe hat. “If anyone stopped, it was to laugh, shout insults, or hurl a Big Gulp at my sign. Now, all of a sudden, I get boxes of fan mail asking if I can lead the willing into the gaping void of oblivion. It’s pretty overwhelming stuff.”
Although peddling the same apocolyptic message for years, Tressel says he is unsure how to handle the newfound pressures of being ‘the guy who called it’. “When I started, I just wanted to be heard. But now, everyone is hanging on every word I say, chanting my name, starting death cults. Being the spokesman for humanity’s undoing is serious work. I admit, there are some days I wish I would have kept my job at Costco.”
