AMERIҞA — We’re living in troubled times and one needn’t look far to find the trouble in all its fury. Check out the front page of this very website from last Friday afternoon.
Fire and brimstone! It’s a global conflagration. We’re talking end times here.
My Presbyterian mother hath spake of such calamity for decades. She warns of Satan’s influence in our Godless times; imps, demons and other assorted minions of Hell sewing their venal seed in the hearts of heathens, the razing of the Almighty’s protective hedge around our nation and others inclined to heed not His word, the rise of relativism and concomitant scourge of suffering and poverty let loose to run its blackening course o’er land and sea. And now it’s all come to pass, the state of the global economy being just one harbinger of Armageddon. There are others.
I’ve been loathe, whether through iniquity or the corrupting distraction of things like science and history, to acknowledge the worth of prophecy — that is, until now. By golly if we don’t have ourselves some actual zombies out running around helter skelter and I don’t care that the Centers for Disease Control disclaims their existence. I’ve seen The Walking Dead and I know where disbelief gets you; it gets you toes up in a culvert with your face eaten off.
The Mayans, who knew not the Lord but knew nevertheless those truths of a universe revealed to the investigating minds of pre-Colombian mystics, they foresaw this day and drew closed the circle of their calendar as a message of foreboding to their conquerors. And yay verily that long Mayan night draws right nigh.
I’m telling you, it’s all the work of the president and his band of closeted socialists running Washington with their fiendish conniving and evil manipulation of the gears and levers of the executive machine. I didn’t believe it for the longest time, which evinces the indifference I’ve borne to the tutelage of my betters. Had I the wisdom of humility I’d have listened. I’d not have gone the easy route. I’d have taken the braver, smarter course less traveled and seen that the fault of our times lies not in our stars but in our souls. We corrupted lot who came molly-coddled along the way, accepting with each passing year such things as marriage equality, a progressive income tax code, health care for the elderly and a woman’s right to drive, oh what a tangled web we wove.
Sure, there are those who will tell you that the financial problems of our times have to do with a philosophical divide between believers in the basic principles of Keynesian economics on the one side and their Friedmanesque foes on the other. Folks like Robert Reich will say that our economic straits flow from an unsustainable concentration of wealth in the hands of a very few plutocrats. Others, like Nobel laureate Paul Krugman, say they’ll maintain that despite a now years-old stimulus package with its concessions to right wing demands, the president actually has not advocated spending anywhere nearly enough on relief to make a measurable difference. Still others, Ron Paul comes to mind, commie in libertarian guise that he is, they’ll tell you there’s just no way four percent of the world’s population can spend half the world’s total defense budget and still provide adequately for its own domestic needs.
Brothers, sisters, we don’t need no Marxist groove thing. Don’t fall for postmodern lies. Don’t buy into the propaganda of those whose sins of humanism not only foretell the apocalypse but hasten its arrival. Joblessness, growing poverty, subsuming of the middle class by the lower, all that ails us in these times, zombies included, you can track it right back to the bedeviled neo-Guevaras who take their marching orders from Barack Obama.
So what should you do? Do like the folks on Nat Geo do.
Invest in duct tape, night vision goggles and stores of non-perishable foodstuffs. Instruct your children in the science of zombie slaying (it takes a head shot). Distrust your neighbors. Hoard firearms. Get with the times or the times will get you.
And when you’re seen dancing you’ll be thought mad by those who cannot hear the music. But we, we few, we enlightened, we band of survivors, after the fires our time will surely come in the light of a new day and then will our progeny give thanks unto that good, smokeless day and we shall leap with exultation and eat of Earth’s bounty.
Or maybe it’s all bullshit.