THE END OF THE WORLD

No, I'm not stopping blogging.

I'm actually referring to the nut I saw while sitting in the smoking corner of the local tobacconists.

Let me explain - the tobacconists, realizing that the change of ownership of another local tobacco shop created opportunities for increasing their own traffic, rebuilt the window-corner of their store which looks down Market Street into a nice, comfy nook, with several comfy chairs and a lovely coffee-table, for the benefit of us cigar and pipe smokers.

This wasn't really unfair to the other tobacco shop, because coupled with the change of ownership came a renewal of the lease, and since then smoking on the premises was no longer allowed at that location..... which meant, given the rabid anti-smoking crowd in this blinkered burg, that several of us no longer had much reason to go there. Especially after the new staff was seen energetically scrubbing out the humidor with Lysol to get rid of that tobacco smell (imbuing the cheroots with a subtle, lingering fragrance of cleaning fluid - righteous!).


Almost all of the downtown reeky crowd now drop by the Market Street tobacconist every day - one or two even conduct much of their business there.

It's a good place for people watching.


Today, outside, in full view, and very audible, a preacher-type was yelling that we "should harken unto him and be aware of the coming apocalypse, which shall engulf the world of the flesh in fire and blood, with the thundering of horsehoofs and the beating of great celestial wings, as had been shown in a vision. All majestic like. Most impressive."

"Beware, beware, sinful people. The exact date is only known to those who join up and confess their sins (a wonderful opportunity!), everybody else gonna be horribly surprised (real soon too!) when the heavens are rent and the lamb of god with seven eyes and seven horns comes down in a fiery glow."


It was very entertaining.

His god is not a forgiving deity.

A powder (corduroy!) blue blazer over blue-jeans is really spiffy, and adds gravitas to the message.

As does the drooping paunch.


A few weeks ago I wrote to a friend "It's intriguing how many people possess different and conflicting blueprints of the end-times. Only they and their group of ten, twenty (or even only one!), have miraculously been vouchsafed this momentous secret.
Curiously, they all seem to predict that it will happen during their lifetimes. One might conclude that their presence is essential......"


Predicting the end of the world is an artform that requires a generously proportioned ego.



Please note: I do not actually know for certain that he was a nut. That requires the diagnostic capability of a trained psychiatrist. I am not a psychiatrist. Calling him a nut is only meant descriptively, to add colour. He may have been stone-cold sane and sober. It's possible.