The Cliffs of Insanity

And I'll be missing a good bit of it because Aunt Tudi is keen on seeing Al Gore on Larry King Live tonight.  The Day After just came on (props to my Lawrence, Kansas homies!) and, at 9 PM, there's a 2-hour speculation show called Countdown to Doomsday that provides 10 scenarios for mass extinction.  Good times yo!  Of course, Al Gore will be talking about global warming, that thar thang that don't eggzist in Dubya's Yewtopiuhn Werld Vyew.  Yeehaw!  So I guess it's Alpaca Lips night on CNN as well.

It just seems to me that everyone is a bit more aware of our pending mortality than we were just ten years ago.  Or is it that I'm more aware of people being more aware of the Alpaca Lips?  I think not.  I've been pretty Alpaca Liptic since I saw the original The Omen in 1979.  It's what made me pull out my Rainbow Bible and take a good long look at the Book of Revelation.  So I've been pretty observant of End Times trends for going on 30 years now.  I think the upsurge of Alpaca Liptic Paranoia is relatively new.  It's like everyone got a knock on their front door at the same time only to open it and find that creepy old preacher from Poltergeist II standing there screeching "Yer gawna diiiiieeee!  Yer gawna diiiiieeee!"  That's a real eye-opener right there, that is.

Come to think...if Revelation has any relevance at all and works in conjunction with the Mayan calendar, then we're already a year into the Tribulation.

William Butler Yeats is more prophet than some of the so-called prophets cherished by Bible-thumpers.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

It's happening. Can't everyone see it?