I have to say that I’m almost disappointed in the lack of obvious apocalypting today. Instead of fire, flame, flakes of flame, scorching chunks of rock hurtling from the sky, the very ceiling of the universe peeling away from the invulnerable firmament beneath, we’ve got a nice crisp cold day. Not too cold, mind you – just enough to brush your cheeks and let you know that Nature would still kill you if given half a chance.
The rest is indifference. Even the hoarfrost that’s been decorating our elms for the last week has finally dissolved in the wind, leaving only the indifferent boughs to offer a clump or two of snow. What kind of doomsday is it when no one makes the slightest effort? We can’t just end the world by ourselves, Universe. It takes a cosmos to shutter reality.
But then the news comes on, and you hear the NRA blast the media for making a big deal out of the mass murder of children. Plus there’s the continued popularity of Gangnam Style. And lest I forget, there are still people out there who call themselves oenophiles and don’t promptly throw themselves out the nearest window.
Most encouraging of all, though, is the spray of ice crystals circulating on cold currents, reminders of entropy sustained in a medium that slowly erodes our being, the acid substance of time itself, which consumes all of existence, layer by layer, until nothing is left but a corrosive emptiness. Bring it on, Mayans. We’ll be here with brandy and assorted snacks.
