Nostradamus wrote a bunch of gibberish poems. For one thing he wrote them in French. Not a single one of them made any sense at all. If they came remotely close to any actual event it is only because people interpret them to say whatever they want them to say. To say they were freakishly accurate is a complete line of bullish. They spout out a line like that as if it were a fact and everything that follows is a lie.
BINGO!
Come up and claim your prize.
The royal child mortally wounded at tennis.
This has to be Coolidge’s son. There would have been no concept of a president at that time.
Storming the gates of San Quentin.
No, not the little village in France, which had no gates. This one mystified his readers in Europe. Of course the prison break was from the inside, and here, and in the future.
I really don’t like the one that says, “Flee, flee Geneva,” because it seems to use words for things that hadn’t been invented yet.
The bodies falling through space?
Either the failed space voyage, or 9/11.
Back in Moses’ time, his siblings Aaron and Miriam were claiming they were prophets too. The Lord called them out in Numbers 12:6 & :8 (KJV): “And he said, Hear now my words: If there be a prophet among you, I the Lord will make myself known unto him in a vision, and will speak unto him in a dream. . . . With him will I speak mouth to mouth, even apparently, and not in dark speeches; . . . “