Keys Disease

Keys Disease
Battling Keys Disease at the Futura Yacht Club in Islamorada, Fla. three years ago.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Hey, Where Did Everybody Go?: What I Didn't Get to Say at 6:01 PM Saturday

I was sort of rooting for this whole Rapture thing on Saturday.

I have no illusions; I wouldn't have been one of those zapped to a better place. But for all the folks who have worked so hard to be among the chosen, more power to you, I say.

Bon voyage!

I'm a half-full kind of guy and, as one of those to be left behind, I was thinking happy thoughts about all the job openings that would be created. Maybe I might actually get an HR person to forward my resume to a hiring manager who would call me for job interview.

Now that would have been a real miracle.

Alas, at 6:01 I glanced around to find everyone with their feet still firmly planted on this mortal coil.

Drat!

I have no idea who this Harold Camping clown is who keeps getting the end-of-the-world date wrong, or why anyone pays any attention to him; but I'm glad I'm not one of his believers who has to keep packing and unpacking a suitcase.

How many times do you have to call a neighbor asking her to check on your cat because you are going to the great beyond and not coming back? Then the next day you must make an oops-my-bad call back telling her she can stand down. "Boy, is my face red! Turns out I'm not leaving after all."

Now I guess the new gotta-go date is October 21.

I can't wait!

I need a job and I don't care who has to get catapulted into the Hereafter for me to get one.

Not to mention that Greenville is on the buckle of the Bible belt; so I suspect it will be much easier to find a parking space downtown on the weekends.

Let's get this party started!

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