People going on like anything matters…like there will ever be a Christmas again, at least one where many of the presents don’t say ‘made in China’ on them.This is like watching a movie where a burning fuse is racing towards a keg of TNT, and no one in the film notices, no matter how loud you yell at the screen.
We are living in those last few seconds in Terminator 2, just before SkyNet drops the hammer on ‘life as we know it’.
Pundits are prattling on about their usual empty-headed nonsense, people care whether some frog twat made a pop’n fresh baby…even I care about the Raider’s chances to be in the Super Bowl, when I know in the back of my reptile brain that there is an excellent chance that Oakland will be under several feet of radioactive mud come this time next year.
Doesn’t matter…the trees whisper, birds migrate, spreading their virii…Norwalk, West Nile, maybe even Ebola, scientists say…doesn’t matter…the birds are getting lost, flying down chimney’s, looking startled and surprised…whole flocks of them.
Grown men have sex with little babies, film it, and then trade the pictures to other grown men.
Some of these babies were sold by their mother’s for drugs…and then those babies sometimes survive to become adults themselves.
Children are being taught from kindergarten on up to accept evil as good, perversion as the norm, and we act surprised when they grow up and kill us in our beds.
Don’t worry, though…because it’s too late to worry. Arm yourselves, store rations, it won’t matter…just save the last bullet for yourself.
Sweet Dreams…because you have been dreaming, haven’t you?
Dreams like you’ve never dreamt before. Do you wake at odd hours in the night, listening? Were those hoofbeats you heard? Do the dead ones from your past appear in your dreams as if it was perfectly natural for them to be talking to you? Do you wake because you just struck out in your sleep at something you were sure was peering intently into your sleeping face with a knowing smile?
The trees whisper secrets to each other…the house moans in it’s sleep, everyday things you’ve always taken for granted look somehow…different.
The end is not near, my friends, it is almost here…