Learning to Love the Apocolypse

hqdefaultIt took me a while to adjust to appreciating global climate change. For a couple of decades, I talked the good talk about wanting to do my part to stop the 6th Extension; to try to create a world my kids and grandkids could enjoy as much as I’d enjoyed the world handed off to me. Tonight, while I lay sleepless in my bed three days after Donald Trump was elected Last President of Democratic United States of America, I came to grips with loving what comes next.

I have two daughters; both are college-educated, intelligent, compassionate, decent people. One of my two sons-in-law is also a decent, hard-working man. I have three grandkids who I love more than my own life. That’s a reproduction rate of slightly less than two-per-couple for my wife and I. Among my wife’s Kansas family there must be close to two hundred zombies spawned from just one of her four aunt’s two marriages. One of my wife’s Kansas cousins churned out eleven nitwits from five marriages and one high school kid who got her pregnant when she was a school councilor (No kidding, it’s Kansas, remember?). Those eleven uneducated, unwanted coneheads have already churned out at least four dozen equally moronic dropouts, misfits, and massively dependent offspring. Their annual Xmas family photo looks like a special Olympics graduating class of hundreds.

So, while I hate the idea that my three beautiful grandchildren and two brilliant, compassionate, and loving daughters are going to watch the world collapse into chaos and see the world they love destroyed out of greed, apathy, laziness, superstition, and stupidity, I’ve come to terms with the math.

Let’s face it, we’re a nation that constantly justifies “collateral damage.” We’re willing to blow up one hundred people in a wedding ceremony in Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Libya, Mexico, Columbia, or any where else and because some contractor’s Puerto Rican drone operator spotted one or two characters who have been randomly selected for our “terrorist watch list.” Compared to that, sacrificing my five off-spring to let the coal industry take out a hundred or so brain-dead Kansas relatives is an efficiency bargain. Add the 60M Trump voters and the rest of the world’s uneducated, lazy, moronic basket cases to that list and the world would be far better off without humans on it. So, bring on the Trump apocalypse. No, children, you’re not going to be levitated into the Big Rock Candy Mountain before the shit hits the fan. You’re going to suffer, possibly for years, before it all comes to a smoking, dying end and then you’re just going to be dead. No Gods will be coming to rescue you, no economic miracles from a clown who couldn’t manage a meat counter or who was too lazy to even show up for his fake “university’s” events will pull your useless asses out of the fires, and the odds that another Barak Obama will put his life and family at risk to save you from yourselves have been dramatically and vanishingly reduced. And I’m good with that. We have earned our part in the Sixth Extinction and we deserve every miserable moment.

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