Stranger In A Strange Land
My Honda Civic was waiting patiently for me to stumble outside (as usual) and with a glance at the gray, poor-excuse-for-a-sky clouds, I went sleepily on my way to work; just one more bit of hemoglobin in the overcrowded and impersonal asphalt arteries that are the Southern California Freeway System. And I use the word 'system' rather loosely.
Mostly the radio is on just for a bit of sound but today I was actually listening to it. That's how I found out The World was wrong. All wrong. Somehow, as I slept, some Great Hand had replaced the annoying World I occupy with an even more annoying World. An Insane World. I nearly choked on my Red Bull (that's a slight fabrication because I always choke on my Red Bull). Well, the Apocalypse had happened while I slept and now there's nothing anyone can do about it. What's done is done and there's no putting that sin back into Pandora's box.
Al Gore has just won the Nobel Peace Prize.
To top it off, my kinsmen, the Swedes, are mostly responsible for The End Of The World. Who would have realized that Ragnarok would happen in a little boardroom in Stockholm? Ironic that Fimbulwinter (endless winter) would be the mythological start of Ragnarok. Well, Loki is free and before he rallies the Jotnar he has apparently given a peace prize to a fool. All I'm left with is a wry smile that Al Gore didn't get a prize for science.