Now Ain’t You Glad You Got To See A Solar Eclipse Before You Die?

So, a question:

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If you had a blog and you’d spent the last year dutifully posting crap on it every Monday, Wednesday and Friday … whether you felt like it or not … and then one day … say, on a Sunday … you came to the decision that the world really, really is coming to an end … and soon! … would you bother to ignore your wife for the better part of the evening, go bury yourself in the basement and sit for two hours in front of a computer, straining your brain to come up with something you give enough of a shit about to turn into 500 or more words, all to have something new in your goddam blog come the following morning? WHICH! … given the present state of affairs … might not be coming anyway?

I mean … seriously! Add it up! First Harvey, then Irma. And who knows what the fuck Jose has up his sleeve. Not even counting Katia. And speaking of disasters in Mexico … the worst earthquake in 100 years?

And speaking of earthquakes, at last count, 172 of the little rattlers in the last seven days, all within pissing distance of the Yellowstone caldera, which, if that blows, could turn a good part of Idaho, Wyoming and Montana into, given another million years of normal snow packs, Lake Great Divide, and make breathing next impossible from … just a guess … Boise to Chicago for the next decade. That is, if there is anyone left to breath after the wildfire smoke gets done with us.

Did I mention the wildfires? Yeah, from Los Angeles to British Columbia and all points between. Maybe it’s time to drop all the piddly names like “Eagle Creek Fire” and “Buffalo Hump Fire,” and call the whole thing something like “The Great Northeastern Pacific Rim Fire.”

Oh, Kim Jong Un has a hydrogen bomb. We have a rabid dog of our own as head-of-state. Only thing better than an atmosphere choking in smoke is an atmosphere choking in radioactive smoke, right?

So, while I still have some time left, I’m going outside and pet the dog. Besides, I’m up to almost 400 words. That’s plenty. Especially given that, come tomorrow morning, there may be nothing left but ashes, anyway.

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