I’ve seen these hundreds, nay, thousands of times on websites, but only recently did the truly ominous implication strike me so bluntly. It’s like the ultimate personal surrender, the terminal consignment of self, the final relinquishment of free will. You either SUBMIT or you don’t, there are no options, there’s no in-between. There’s often small print at the bottom that says something similar to this one. As is well known, understood, and expected, nobody clicks off to some other page to read whatever it is before they SUBMIT. Maybe you should think about it. I’m going to. Even so, there’s still no guarantee that what one is about to SUBMIT to will have anything to do with one’s expectations. Just remember, once you SUBMIT, THAT’S IT. Have you ever seen an UN-SUBMIT button afterwards? I didn’t think so.
(1) First there was the election on Tuesday. Or, perhaps I should say, the attempted election. Because nobody got elected and, two days later, still nobody is elected. In itself that wouldn’t be especially significant. What’s scary is that each side has shown little to no respect for the proportion of the electorate represented by the other side, both showing unprecedented motivation to get out and vote according to their conscience. One side still refers to the other as thieves, one side still refers to the other as rubes. They may use different words, but the attitude and, more importantly, the lack of respect, for the other side has not changed despite each side’s showing of the intensity and importance of their beliefs and philosophies. In particular, half the country, most of the media, and all of those schooled in “fine arts” and it’s lesser school, “entertainment”, appears set to persist in treating the other half as misguided misogynistic racist red-necked un-enlightened un-sophisticated rubes. A small percentage may fit that description, the vast majority do not but are, rather, driven by perhaps old-fashioned but nevertheless fundamental and legitimate principles of conscience and morality. Their candidate may have been an unfortunate champion, but their principles are due equal respect to those espoused by the other side. Until such respect is manifested, on both sides, the Apocalypse can be seen poised on the horizon.
(2) Second, when we woke up this morning there was no electricity. They got it restored in about three hours. Not a major inconvenience. It happens two or three times a year.
(3) This afternoon the water stopped without warning. After calling the city and negotiating through the automated switchboard, we were informed there had been a water main break in the neighborhood. This was a relief, inasmuch as it didn’t fall upon us to call a plumber for repairs at our expense. But the anticipated restoration will be near bedtime tonight. So, all activities requiring water in the home will be on hold for several hours. Not a major inconvenience, except maybe with respect to toilets. In contrast to loss of electricity, loss of water hasn’t happened in years. In fact, we can’t remember it ever happening before.
None of the above by itself would necessarily signal calamity, except maybe #1 though I tended to be mostly entertained by the situation despite the survival of the country being at stake. I figure we all lose whichever way it goes. But, to then suffer loss of both electricity and water the same day, I think the coincidence of signs makes it quite evident. The Apocalypse is more than poised, it is nigh.
It’s a Saturday afternoon and I thought it was a beautiful day for doing some of the work outside that the painter wants us to do before they start on Tuesday. As a result of the interior painting fiasco in the first quarter of 2019, we have a LOT of stuff piled outside the back of the house. It all has to be moved away from the house so they (not the same painters, of course) can get to it. As I said, I thought it was a beautiful day to do work outside. I’m back inside, sitting in front of a fan, drenched in sweat, trying to cool off and regain some confidence about not dying from over-exertion. Turned out to be 90 or more degrees with “feels like” around 93 or so. I remember when I was younger and would grab a tennis racket and my son and play for hours on a day like this. Is how I feel now the result of bad conditioning or old age? Both, probably. Maybe I’ll see if I have a picture of that junk out back. Did I mention I’m composing this on my phone? I don’t see an icon or anything that looks like how to insert a picture. Did I mention that the painters are former teachers from Stephen’s and Kimberly’s junior high school days? It’s true.