THE END IS NIGH!

THE END IS NIGH! Yeth, it cometh for us all! Earthquakes, tsunamis, drought, famine, cultural degradation, fire from above, perdition below, bad hairdos, hangnails, persistent fungi, alligators with body parts, murders rampant, tyrants, predators, economic collapse, big brothers, AI, body modification and virulent obsequiousness. What course will you take when all roads lead south? What can be done in the face of the inevitable?

Dance. Dance into oblivion. Face the fire with a blithe spirit. Greet doom with a light heart. If there is no escape don a smile and shuffle off to Buffalo. Show the devil your disdain and dance as though all are watching and you enjoy the happy, wriggling moment, insouciant to the end. Maurice did. Desi did too, loving Luci to the last. And Desi Jr., well, we can only hope he’ll face it when his time comes with the aplomb we should all hope for.

Yeth, the end is coming, coming for us all in both the singular and the plural. Scientists in their gizmo filled labs are working away, toiling endlessly, playing with things that may blow up in their faces and start chain reactions that obliterate the earth, the solar system, galaxy, yeth, even the univerth in the blink of an atom. Ourselves, daily, scrape bare the thin surface of the very planet that sustains us. We suck the clean air of its atmosphere in, an atmosphere comparatively no thicker than the skin of an apple, and spew it back out laden with poison. Our lakes, rivers and oceans we pollute like cesspools. We permit the rule of despots and psychopaths. We hoard that of no use to us, having plenty already. And they are coming in over the walls, you would too if starving but they are only us, doing what your forefathers did when they were starving and the only jobs they are taking are the ones you won’t do. Fire will rain from the sky, remember the Chicxulub impactor, and no little dart we shoot at it from down here will deter it.

The earth is rumbling beneath our feet, dance as if the soles of your shoes are melting.

But dance, and don’t be one of them, you know who Them are. Dance, let your body move to the music. Dance, lets dance, under the moonlight, the serious moonlight. Dance, dance with reckless abandon. Dance though your heart is aching, smile even though it’s breaking. The Maypole awaits, the bright colorful strands we weave as we twirl about it, in sunlight, in springtime, besotted with life, spreading joy, wreathed in flowers, dancing will bring us all, damned hippies, together.