Dance the Apocalypso

The gray weather appears to have leaked through the walls and has permeated the bunker.

The fingers danced to the Ramones on the music box this morning, which seems to be getting the feet tapping. As I ponder terror threats in Australia, bird flu in Manitoba, and finding out what the hell 'section 21" is, I hear the voice of Johnny singing "Rockaway Beach".

The afternoon should be easy, and provide some emotional rescue, finally, finally going to see "good night, and good luck" with some much needed companionship, a friend who makes the world briefly fall into place.

When the end comes "surfing bird" will be playing on the loudspeakers, the syncopated drums work well with jackboots. When the end does come however, it will be invited, not an attack. People don't understand the cheering crowds when the Germans marched into certain cities in Europe, but the people there wanted law, order, discipline, and more importantly security. As I scan the feeds, and digest the newspaper this morning I see the letters to the editor calling for more security, more law enforcement, more surveillance. When the jackboots do come, the welcome mat will be out.

There are a lot of things that occur to me when I wake up every morning, I would love to wake up not deep in the grip of the fear. I would love to wake up, fling open the curtains, stretch out my arms letting the sun bathe me and say "today is a new day".