MISSING OUT ON THE TRIBULATION

One thing I will freely admit is that I do like rotten weather. Which we don't usually have in September. A few years ago this month was warm, hot even, and for a man with crappy circulation in his lower extremities it was quite unbearable. At present the temperature isn't even sixty Fahrenheit in my neighborhood. Good man, that Fahrenheit. Sixty degrees F is doable. Several miles inland it's over eighty, and the desert starts. Camel caravans, trailer parks, gila monsters, rattle snakes, and election deniers, stretching all the way to the outskirts of Chicago. A vast region filled with Texans and Floridans.

Screaming fnundamentalists as far as the eye can see.

Plus vegans and anti-smokers.


Apparently The Rapture was supposed to happen yesterday. Darn, I missed it. That is to say I did not see Jesus, nor was I uplifted with thousands of others to the heavenly city to sing simple-minded praise songs for all eternity at the foot of the elephant throne, and there were absolutely no angels with trumpets sounding for all the world like a Southern university football band at the great game. Shoot. You can tell I'm disappointed.

Didn't find out about what didn't take place till today.

We're at the far edge of the continent here, so the news gets to us late. Folks probably found out earlier on the East Coast. And in The South.

We had San Francisco weather. It delays things.


Oh, the humanity!


Well, seeing as the Tribulation ain't gonna happen, I think I'll go have lunch. Somewhere in Chinatown. Possibly cheung fan (腸粉). Or maybe har gow (蝦餃), or little pork siu mai 豬肉燒賣). Something appetizing and hearty. To match the weather. And the lack of Jesus.




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