The real miracle is how there are still people gullible enough to fall for this decades-old scam.

"Can you hear me, Petey? If not, you're in trouble!"

"Supernatural wealth transfer"...should be a tag.

"We drank this God blessed spring water and we got a check for thousands! Our dream home! *Cut to hot swimsuit model being showered in cash*"

As someone who was brought up in a version of Christianity that teaches you that the poor and the meek are favored by God, that "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into heaven" and that money and greed are Satan's ideal tool to all evil, this shit is fucking amazing to me.

It's riches that make the Popoff God so wonderful
It's riches that make the Popoff God so different
It's riches that make the Popoff God immaculate
More riches, lots more riches, more riches than you have ever seen before
If you like riches, fat juicy riches, you'll love the Popoff God more

Years ago, I called Peter Popoff's prayer hotline to get some of that water. I told them my name was "Stanton Peanut" (I had a can of Planters peanuts nearby and I decided Mr. Peanut looked like a "Stanton") and I needed prayers for my "arthritis."

Over the course of at least the next year, I received many things. I think I still have most of the stuff somewhere, but I can't find it. To the best of my recollection, I received two (2) separate packets of Miracle Spring Water in two different sizes, one (1) string to tie around my wrist, one (1) set of paper leaves that I was supposed to do something with, one (1) penny that might have been blessed, and a great many letters typed in a handwriting font filled with "Brother Peanut" inserted, in red, amidst the detailed instructions on how to use all of the items while sending varying dollar amounts to Reverend Popoff in the included prepaid envelopes.

I had intended to stuff the envelopes with coupons or something and mail them back, but unfortunately, I never got around to it.

I've since moved away, and I didn't arrange to have Stanton Peanut's mail forwarded. Whoever lives in that house now could still be receiving miracle items; at least I'd like to think they are.

Sometimes I used the name Peter Popoff when I played counter-strike.

Cause it sounds like I'm firing a pistol and I liked to popoff and take a piss or to jerk off obsessively

This is the sort of thing my grandmother would have paid money for. Wait...maybe she did. My grandma gave away a lot of her savings to assholes like this.