Crackpot Bob's Latest Epistle: “I’m Just Like Herbert Armstrong, Only More Butthurt and Holier”

 

Bob Thiel’s Latest Epistle: “I’m Just Like Herbert Armstrong, Only More Butthurt and Holier”
In what can only be described as the theological equivalent of a jilted ex writing a 47-page Facebook rant at 2 a.m., Crackpot Bob Thiel has once again graced the internet with his favorite genre: Me vs. Everyone Else, But Mostly Rod Meredith and all COG that reject me. Fresh off yet another round of self-comparison to Herbert W. Armstrong justifying his split from COG7, Crackpot Bob is still nursing the mother of all grudges because the big boys in the Church of God scene looked at his résumé, his dreams, his prophetic timeline, and said, “Nah.”
For those keeping score at home over his lack of ordination, the Worldwide Church of God said no. The Global Church of God said no. The Living Church of God said double no. At this point, Bob has been rejected as many times as Peter rejected Jesus. But instead of taking the hint, he’s decided the problem isn’t his theology, his narcissistic personality, or his endless nitpicking—it’s that they lack integrity.
LCG had the audacity not to rewrite their Official Statement of Beliefs exactly the way Crackpot Bob told them to in December 2011. They also failed to update their history booklet to his exact specifications. The horror. The absolute scandal. One can only imagine the emergency evangelist meetings where grown men sat around saying, “Quick, we must appease the man who keeps emailing us corrections!”
Crackpot Bob solemnly informs us that Dr. Meredith, Richard Ames, and Dr. Doug Winnail agreed with him in private about prophetic errors. Of course they did, Bob. That’s why they immediately changed everything and made you their top guy, right? Oh wait—no, they didn’t. They kept right on teaching what they taught while Crackpot Bob seethed in the corner, furiously updating his website with more red-underline “errors” than a Soviet editor. Oh, and don't forget that unverifiable double-blessing by Gaylyn Bonjoir that no one ever witnessed.
The pinnacle of this saga is Bob’s declaration that his reasons for leaving LCG were “actually much more compelling” than Herbert Armstrong’s reasons for leaving the old Church of God (Seventh Day). Let that marinate. The man who was never ordained by any of the major groups, whose “double portion of God’s Holy Spirit” claim raises more eyebrows than a COG leader's jet purchase, is now positioning himself as the truer successor to Armstrong. 
It’s like showing up to a family reunion, announcing you’re the rightful heir because Uncle Herb once nodded at you, then storming off to start your own splinter group when nobody crowns you king. “They wouldn’t ordain me? Fine. I’ll ordain myself via a dream, some YouTube videos, and those adulterous leaders in Africa. Take that, you Laodiceans!”
Bob’s entire brand is now built on three pillars:

1. “They didn’t listen to me.”
2. “I was right about everything and they knew it.”
3. “Sardis! Laodicea! Falling away! Read my books!”

All while insisting he’s not bitter. Just… concerned. Deeply, prophetically concerned. The same way a guy who gets dumped is “concerned” about his ex’s new boyfriend’s theology.
If Crackpot Bob's credentials were as obvious and God-ordained as he claims, he wouldn’t need to write endless articles proving it by dragging LCG and Rod Meredith’s corpse through the mud years later. Legitimate leaders don’t spend this much time explaining why the groups that rejected them are doomed for not recognizing their greatness. They just lead.
Instead, we get this endless saga of perceived slights, unheeded corrections, and prophetic score-settling. It’s less “continuation of the Philadelphia era” and more “man still mad he didn’t get the promotion.”
At this point, the most compelling evidence that Crackpot Bob isn’t a legitimate COG leader is… Crackpot Bob himself. Keep writing those articles, Bob. The rest of us are enjoying the show.

PCG Excited About Saving Pennies: The Official PCG Translation for ‘We’re Hemorrhaging Money’

PCG Pinching Pennies: Is the End-Times Empire Finally Feeling the Heat?

In a stunning display of fiscal restraint that would make a monastery look like a Vegas casino, the Philadelphia Church of God (PCG) has decided it's time to tighten the belt. According to their own Philadelphia Trumpet update from May 22, 2026, Pastor General Gerald Flurry (affectionately known in some circles as Lord Six-Pack) has axed the magazine's "waiting room program." You know, that noble effort where they stuffed Trumpet copies into doctor's offices, dental clinics, and other places where bored patients might flip through prophecy porn instead of last month's People.

This brilliant cost-cutting move is expected to save over a million dollars a year in printing and mailing. Managing editor Joel Hilliker and executive editor Stephen "Lil'Stevie" Flurry are reportedly "excited" about it—because nothing says "divine enthusiasm" like two guys smiling through their teeth while the advertising campaign that was three-quarters of the circulation gets the boot.
The irony is thicker than a Flurry sermon on tithing. For years, PCG has been jet-setting around the globe, preaching that they're the one true remnant carrying Herbert W. Armstrong's torch into the end times. Now they're admitting their big magazine placement scheme wasn't exactly reeling in converts like a televangelist's prayer cloth sale. A million bucks down the drain every year on what amounted to glorified waiting-room wallpaper. Classic.

But Will the Belt-Tightening Stop There? Don't hold your breath for the real belt-tighteners. Here's the scorecard of what might be next as the "Work" feels the squeeze:

• The Gulfstream Jet: PCG's shiny 2007 Gulfstream G450 has been ferrying Fkurry, his family and PCG elite to feast sites, dance compeitions, visits to its failed college in England, personal appearance campaigns, and Celtic dance competions anad it stravling road show. It's been a staple since 2017 for those 10,000-mile jaunts. Will they sell it next? Or keep burning jet fuel while telling members to "sacrifice" a little more? Place your bets—prophecy says the end is near, but private aviation is forever.

• The Jerusalem Office: They've got an Armstrong Institute of Biblical Archaeology over there, digging for proof that everything's unfolding exactly as predicted. Shutting that down would be awkward—how do you explain closing the prophetic front lines?

• Herbert W. Armstrong College Campus: The crown jewel in Edmond, Oklahoma. Turn it into low-income housing? Imagine the optics: "Students, pack your bags. The Kingdom is coming... right after we convert the dorms into Section 8 units." That would be one heck of a faith test.

• Celtic Throne – The Million-Dollar Road Show: This Irish dance spectacular (think Riverdance with extra Armstrongist prophecy flavor) has toured the U.S., Britain, and Israel, complete with casts of 40-60 performers, live music, and theatrical flair. Multiple tours, big productions, big costs. Will the traveling Celtic extravaganza get the chop? Or will it keep stomping across stages while the waiting-room budget takes the hit? Nothing says "urgent end-time warning" like synchronized dancing.

And of course, the big question on everyone's lips (well, ex-members' lips): Will Lil'Stevie take a salary cut? Executive editor, campaign speaker, heir apparent—surely the Flurry family fortunes remain untouched while the little people rejoice over saving on bulk postage.
PCG's peak revenue hit around $6.6 million not long ago, funded heavily by those faithful forced tithe-payers. Yet here we are, celebrating the elimination of an ineffective ad campaign as if it's a major victory. The enthusiasm from Hilliker and Flurry Jr. is about as convincing as a "we're just a humble little church" pitch from an organization with a corporate jet and a professional dance troupe.
Members are no doubt being told this is all part of God's plan—pruning for greater fruit, or whatever the current euphemism is. Meanwhile, the rest of us watch with popcorn, wondering how long until the next "exciting" cost-saving announcement. Perhaps they'll start charging for those Trumpet subscriptions they used to give away free?
Stay tuned, prophecy watchers. The end might not be nigh, but the accountants and bankruptcy lawyers certainly are.

From The Exit and Support Network

PCG Hurting for Money:

May 27, 2026

Looks like PCG is really hurting for money. I just received some great news from someone who recently left. This is what was in PCG’s latest May 22, 2026 Friday Philadelphian:

To cut costs, he [GF] also decided to immediately eliminate the Philadelphia Trumpet waiting room program, which accounted for three quarters of the circulation. “Eliminating these printing and mailing costs, for what was essentially an advertising campaign, will save over a million dollars a year,” said Trumpet managing editor Joel Hilliker. “I am excited about this cost savings for one,” said executive editor Stephen Flurry, “but I’m also excited about using some of these ‘advertising’ dollars to promote other Work programs.”

Yeah, I’m sure Hilliker and SF are going to act enthused about this decison so as not to cause members to question why. But PCG obviously knows the “waiting room program” [placing the magazine in doctor’s, dental offices, etc.] wasn’t bringing in people so why continue paying for it. –[name withheld]

Wash, Rinse, Repeat - Another COG Splinter Group Implosion, Right On Schedule.

Here we go again—another COG splinter group implosion, right on schedule.

Every time a Church of God outfit implodes and splinters into yet another “pure” new group, the fresh leaders solemnly promise a bright new dawn. This time, they swear, they’ll fix the old problems, operate with integrity, and actually follow the Bible instead of Herbert W. Armstrong’s ghost. And yet, in the last 25–30 years, not a single one of these heroic restarts has managed to deliver anything except the same tired, generational hand-me-down dictatorship, financial opacity, and “question me and you’re questioning God” routine. New ideas? Flushed straight down the toilet. Member treatment? Barely improved since the ’90s. 

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Take COGA (Church of God Assembly, or whatever acronym du jour they’re using this week). From day one, “Pastor” Monson has ruled with a heavy hand—perfectly understandable when you’re first herding cats into the same direction, I suppose. But that iron fist never loosens. Accountability evaporates. The ministry becomes untouchable. To criticize the leader is to rebel against God Himself. How original.

In May 2025 the mask slipped even further when Monson reportedly fired the entire board before they could vote against him. Can’t have those pesky checks and balances getting in the way of personal control over the tithe money, can we? Critics have long pointed to the usual Armstrongist greatest hits: mysterious finances, Monson and wife Joette cruising around in luxury Cadillac Escalades, lavish Disney trips that somehow smell like church funds, and Joette sliding into a church position after losing her secular gig—with members conveniently left in the dark. One ex-employee even dared preach about Judas stealing from the moneybag. 

The audacity.

And now the latest predictable circus: Jason Fritts has apparently incurred Monson’s wrath. Exactly what sermon topic set His Highness off remains unclear—maybe Jason foolishly preached about love, grace, or (gasp) mentioned Jesus outside of Passover. Whatever it was, another minister is on the outs. Shocking. Because nothing says “God’s true church” like a pack of self-serving, emotionally stunted man-children who inevitably go for each other’s throats a few years after every new “unity” launch.

It’s honestly hilarious watching the same cycle play out like clockwork. Sheldon started his own outfit because LCG dared follow state COVID rules. How long until Jason launches “Church of God – True Remnant Version 47” with his 50 faithful members? The “flock” will dutifully follow, heads buried so deep in the sand they’re practically mining for diamonds. How many churches has the average Sheldon follower bounced through in the last 40 years? Three? Five? Is the group growing, or quietly shrinking into a handful of aging followers? Does any of this feel blessed by God? Or does it feel exactly like what it is: a slow-motion extinction event for a toxic, pedophile-founded cult whose founder’s legacy keeps splintering because none of these “ambassadors for Christ” can share power, money, or a playground ball without throwing a tantrum?

The conclusion is as brutal as it is blindingly obvious: These COG splinter-group “leaders” are pathologically allergic to the very unity they love to preach about. They strut around like modern-day Apostles, thundering from the pulpit about “one body in Christ” and brotherly love—then throw toddler-level tantrums, storm off in righteous indignation, and immediately crown themselves infallible pope-king of their own pathetic little fiefdom. And then, right on schedule, the knives come out. Backbiting, character assassination, doctrinal purges, and mutual excommunications erupt like clockwork. 

Every. Single. Time. 

It’s not a flaw in the system. It’s the entire business model. Armstrongism doesn’t forge humble men of God with real integrity—it mints arrogant, thin-skinned little tyrants who couldn’t maintain a coherent group chat, let alone a legitimate church. These are not shepherds. They’re wolves in cheap polyester suits, too narcissistic to submit to anyone, including each other, and too dishonest to admit it. Real Christian character would bite them on the ass and they’d still call it persecution.

May the whole rotten, hypocritical tree finally crash down and stay down. The sooner these toxic little cults are extinct, the better. Set the trapped people free already. The rest of the church is exhausted watching this endless, self-inflicted circus of frauds and egomaniacs playing dress-up as “God’s true church.” What a joke. What a disgrace.