It’s been a while since we’ve had the absolute honor of featuring Stephen Gilbreath on here. You know, the fearless one-man army valiantly trying to single-handedly preserve Herbert Armstrong’s sacred “truths,” shoulder-to-shoulder with his fellow true believer Samuel Kitchen.
Both of these fine gentlemen proudly occupy the furthest, most radioactive end of the batshit-crazy spectrum—where the tinfoil hats are double-layered, and the mental gymnastics could win Olympic gold. And just when you thought Armstrongism couldn’t possibly lower the bar any further without needing a shovel and a miner’s helmet, they’ve both turned to glorious AI to generate “Grammy-worthy” music for spreading the message.
Samuel Kitchen has at least squeezed out a few tracks that are not half bad, and that won’t make you immediately set your speakers on fire. Stephen? Oh, man… his output sounds like a malfunctioning toaster having a nervous breakdown in an echo chamber. It’s not just bad — it’s weird as hell.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the glittering, up-to-date face of Armstrongism in 2026.
The bar hasn’t just been lowered — it’s been yeeted into a black hole, vaporized, reconstituted as cosmic dust, and then proudly paraded around as “cutting-edge restoration.” Once upon a time these folks swaggered about with slick magazines, opulent auditoriums packed with thousands, and worldwide television broadcasts that actually looked semi-professional. Now? The grand legacy has been gloriously distilled down to two lonely keyboard warriors huddled in their dimly lit man-caves, desperately cramming Herbert’s dusty 1970s fever dreams into ChatGPT and desperately praying the algorithm will somehow alchemize their end-time fan fiction into platinum-worthy bangers.
This, my friends, is what “peak preservation” looks like in all its pathetic glory: a dwindling handful of die-hards and their glitchy robot backup singers warbling apocalyptic elevator muzak. The once-proud “Philadelphia Era” has been unceremoniously replaced by the “Pitiful Desperation Era” — where God’s final, earth-shattering Work is now apparently being propelled forward by budget AI vocals and a couple of gentlemen who have been excitedly screeching “just a little while longer, brethren!” since the Reagan administration.
Truly magnificent. The restoration of all things has never been this budget-bin inspiring. Pass the popcorn — this clown show is premium comedy gold.
Stephen Gilbreath
1 comment:
I wish Stevie Marriott and Humble Pie had done an album of Gospel tunes!
BB
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