We Still Have The Aztecs

If anyone actually reads the stuff I write, they will know I'm something less than a daily communicator. Therefore, it would not have come as a surprise if I had neglected this date's occasion, as I have ignored many others. Nevertheless, here, somewhat after what could be called a universal "deadline", I find myself searching for words. It is 7:30 PM in my time zone, there have been no unmanned vehicle crashes, and, as far as I can tell, my neighbors are all safely at home.

I have been invited to several "rapture" parties, but I have declined because I am unsure exactly what their intent was, whether to celebrate or ridicule belief in a recently revealed "end of days" prophecy. I mean what if I jumped up into the air at six o'clock, and no one else did? If anything I am a bit miffed at not having been given a little more notice. I mean how is one supposed to prepare oneself? The Aztecs were much more considerate.

Anyway, I am seriously searching for some way of expressing a certain kind of sympathy that I'm feeling without awakening that ridicule that I also admit to. It's a dichotomy.

Let me ask you a straightforward questi0n, dear reader. Do you find this world and its people so unlovely that you cannot imagine continuing for just one more minute? Are you so dissatisfied that you can't believe in compromise, which is a word that describes how people get along?
Well, if you have answered in the affirmative, then you are not part of the problem, you are the problem itself.

Remember the story about the great oak tree that bends before the hurricane rather than it should break. This is not a foolish fable. All these stupid old stories have instructional value. The important thing is to learn from them. If you don't then who's stupid? Huh?

There is not one of you out there who cannot get along with each other (except for the occasional psychopath) if only you will give it some effort. It is way too damn important for you sluff off and try to blame your lack of success on others.

OK, I've had my go at you, and you're right, I'm not your judge. In fact I'm just as confused as you. But one thing I know is that it's 8:45 PM, and I'm still here. I guess that says something, but I'll be damned if I know what.

Lookout.

Regards,
Daddy