Chuck Russell was like a magpie: Steal a little from here, a little from there and - why not? - from everywhere. He was a religious man peculair to his age at the arse end of Victorianism: into promulgating the grand (i.e., Divine) plan of the world, given to obscure drawings and diagrams. Oh, he was also fiercely into numerology: Numbers were the lifeblood of his theories about the Divine PlanHe was independently wealthy so when setting up the Watchtower Society did not then have to worry where his next cent was coming from. He was for a self-appointed conduit of God's truth appropriately narcissistic - but in a pompously 'humble' kind of way. He spoke and wrote in an overtly flowery way - a leaning his devout followers have absorbed. He was a charlatan and, some say, a womaniser. Rather than detract from his reputation, his foibles gave him bulk and humanity.
The essence of the man who was Russell has long since been forgotten - if known in the first place - by the JWs. However, among the smaller splinter groups, men who should know better but who trade in wishful thinking and scriptural intrigue esteem him more than any intelligent being ever would. The long white beard, grandfatherly looks and unshakable confidence in his own self-appointed role have kept his memory alive longer than would have ever been warranted. He was the soft, cushiony front end of the Watchtower Society to be followed by the harshly pragmatic pin-cushion, Rutherford, a supposedly 'real' man who had need for neither softness nor intrugue but who specialized in the harsh light of day. The legacy of the man some called "Judge Rutherford" has been seared into the organization to this day - albeit with more palatable light so as not to offend modern sensibilities. With both Russell and Rutherford long dead, the masses tired of waiting for the end can safely sleep with the snoring cancelling out decades of fervent, hot-headed, you-better-act now or you'll die at Armageddon threats.
Sleep deeply and permantently Chuck and Judge, you purveyors of stupidity. Become the fitting models for the rank and file who unerringly sleep-walk their way towards an Armagedon that never quite arrives.
