I’m feeling a bit rejected today. Yesterday—May 21, 2011—was the official Rapture date and, well… I’m still here. Suddenly, I’m getting flashbacks to being the last one picked for dodge-ball games, tapping my foot as I watched the popular girls being asked to dance at school functions and getting passed over for promotions because I did not possess the appropriate genitalia. A lifetime of being shut out of the ranks of the privileged based on superficial gender and geek-related issues is now being affirmed with the Ultimate Rejection—being left behind.
While I have not yet left my house to check out who specifically was taken up body-and-soul to heaven, I imagine many of my spiritually elite neighbors are currently having hors d'oeuvres with the angels and High Tea with their Personal Savior. In the meantime, here I sit, eating tuna out of a can and drinking tap water.
My cats are still here, so obviously they harbor evil thoughts. (Some religious people suggest that animals have no souls, but that's just messed up.) My husband is still here, quietly working on a jigsaw puzzle of The Beatles. Both of my daughters have apparently followed their mother down the wrong, wanton path as they have shown their presence by recently posting their activities on Facebook. Wait. You don’t think Mark Zuckerberg brokered a deal with the Almighty to allow post-mortem posting, do you? You never know.
So I guess the Righteous have left town. No matter. Living in the New York City area, I have many Earthbound-Christian, Jewish, Pagan, Buddhist, Hindu and Muslim friends to hang out with until Judgment Day this October 21. And of course, there’s the Old Reliables—the Agnostics and the Atheists.
Unfortunately, for us, it's not going to help the housing market to have so many additional homes sitting unoccupied. Also, there will now be fewer patriotic Americans shuffling around the shopping malls to nudge the economy along by purchasing Victoria's Secret undies and big screen televisions.
But, hey, just because the End Time is near, that’s no reason to wear a Monday face. With all of the Chosen out of the way, the job market should open up quite nicely for the rest of us. Also, less people means our energy needs will be slashed, reducing our dependency on those who have been left behind in the Middle East. And perhaps best of all—my pulse quickens—with the depopulation of the U.S., this is an ideal time to visit Disney World, where the waiting time for the good rides should be substantially shortened.
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| Left out, again. Look at all the fun they're having. |
My cats are still here, so obviously they harbor evil thoughts. (Some religious people suggest that animals have no souls, but that's just messed up.) My husband is still here, quietly working on a jigsaw puzzle of The Beatles. Both of my daughters have apparently followed their mother down the wrong, wanton path as they have shown their presence by recently posting their activities on Facebook. Wait. You don’t think Mark Zuckerberg brokered a deal with the Almighty to allow post-mortem posting, do you? You never know.
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| Is heaven for nudists? |
Unfortunately, for us, it's not going to help the housing market to have so many additional homes sitting unoccupied. Also, there will now be fewer patriotic Americans shuffling around the shopping malls to nudge the economy along by purchasing Victoria's Secret undies and big screen televisions.
But, hey, just because the End Time is near, that’s no reason to wear a Monday face. With all of the Chosen out of the way, the job market should open up quite nicely for the rest of us. Also, less people means our energy needs will be slashed, reducing our dependency on those who have been left behind in the Middle East. And perhaps best of all—my pulse quickens—with the depopulation of the U.S., this is an ideal time to visit Disney World, where the waiting time for the good rides should be substantially shortened.
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