I never thought it would end like this. Then again, I’m sure that’s what everyone ever has said when their end finally comes. No one imagines how the end will come. Most of us try to ignore that there will be an end at all, really. Those who do, probably just give their best guess given the type of life they lead and various risks they take. So here we are, in the midst of our last week on Earth, and it’s nothing like I thought it would be.
First off, either the media is just suppressing reports of End of Days orgies around the world, or they simply aren’t happening. My local liquor store has yet to be looted, and there don’t seem to be any fires spreading throughout the city. This is the end of the world, and it feels shockingly like every other day. At least I can say I’ll never see 30.
But before I go, I’ve got a few things to get off of my chest. It’s confession/ rant time.
Baseball is boring. Over the years, I’ve become convinced that baseball is the national pass time of people who enjoy statistics, because that’s really all that there is to enjoy. Ever heard two people talk about a team? They talk about percentages, statistical match-ups and things that people say or do off the field. Unless someone’s breaking a record or there’s a title on the line, no one theoretically cares about the next pitch, they just want to turn their heads in time when they hear the crack of the bat.
I’m sorry I pinched your butt in public. I hope you can forgive me.
Paul McCartney wrote the worst Christmas song of all time. You know the hit 1979 song “Wonderful Christmas Time.” You can’t escape it every year. First the crappy-sounding echoing keyboard part. Then come the achingly simple lyrics, where McCartney paints the picture of people, you guessed it, having a wonderful Christmas time. He then encourages his listeners to do the same. He wrote and recorded the entire thing himself, even though it later became a song McCartney performed with his alleged Wings.
I’ve seen the first few seasons of Sex and the City. It happened against my will a long time ago. Through counseling I’ve been able to put it behind me. It’s not something I like to talk about, but, there it is.
I appreciate all of you readers out there. In fact, I got all of you something really nice for Christmas, but when I realized that we won’t see what would have been Jesus’ 2,012th birthday, I returned it. Sorry.