Friday, December 21, 2012

A Tournament of Lies

I wasn't sure I needed to write this today-actually to write anything today. Am still unsure, truth to tell. This, many insist, is the day 'the Mayan calendar' has indicated the world may end. For those engaged in one-night stands, I suppose nothing changes (except the sheets, fingers crossed). The rest of us probably have some packing to do. I'm thinking just a toothbrush. I'll get everything else at Heaven's toll-free shop. 

T. S. Eliot is unavailable for a comment on all of this. I tried. His spokesman told me-well, you can guess the pithy response I got. Messrs Stipe, Buck and Company long ago went on record about all of that with all of this. They are so screwed on royalties if today really is it, and that's a shame since they will make a killing otherwise.

This thing posts at the dawning of a new day, every day, unless I've really goobered it up (and that has been known to happen). I don't know when you're getting here but if it's during daylight, you may still have enough time yet to go get that dry cleaning, assuming you are a true believer and want to look your very best at the Rapture or whatever it will be called.

For the non-skeptics in the crowd, I'm not sure we're going to be here long enough to eat all those bananas (and why did you buy so many green ones in the first place?) but please take one and pass the bunch to your neighbor. Be careful of the tarantulas. And, no judgements here, but I think three minute eggs for breakfast may be pushing the envelope more than it's worth.

The joke, if there is one, in all of this might be that the world ends for untold and untotaled numbers everyday-whether it's individually or collectively, whimper or bang ('it'll leave a big hole where we could've sang'), is of moot import in the ever unfolding tale of the expandable and unbreakable universe.

If nothing happens, see you here tomorrow; one of us will be wearing a chagrined expression. And if the Apocalypse does arrive later today and there's sentient life anywhere else across the galaxy, perhaps, but only perhaps, it'll look up just after the flash/boom and wonder what happened. Or not.
-bill kenny

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