The trouble with Rapture



We are on the verge of war.

Not one of those piss ant conflicts like Korea or Vietnam, but an all out war with our side throwing all we got at their side while they’re doing the same to us.

People might be dying even as we speak: both sides shooting down each other’s planes while we’re too far away to hear the screaming.

Reagan peeved about losing 200 marines in Lebanon and is looking for someone to blame, and I’m scared he’s insane enough to blame the Soviets.

On top of his, Pauly tells me more about his dreams.

About rapture.

Or worse those days after the disaster when we’re all supposed to make our way to his hill top home.

He’s worried we might all actually survive.

He believes we’d be better off dying right off, rather than have it linger.

But just in case we do survive, we’re supposed to find him.

Garrick claims we live too near New York City to ever survive the blast when it comes.

This makes me wonder how long it takes the bomb to get here and is it possible for me to outrun the waves of heat once it does.

I can’t see how I can possibly keep my appointment on Pauly’s hill.

All I can think of is death.

Garrick claims the human race has a death wish.

Pauly agrees and tells me most people get their kicks out of defying death, to see how close we can get before we kick the bucket.

Some leaders like Hitler and Reagan take this wish too far because they think God will come down and save them because they are special when the rest of us jerks are not.

Some people actually think world destruction is preordained, and rub their hands in anticipation so they can laugh at the rest of us when they get called up to God and we get stuck with God’s wrath.

I would seek salvation but I just can’t see myself spending an eternity in the company of people like that.

Pauly mentions the dream Hank had three years ago in which all hell broke loose and the word “Korea” was painted in blood across the sky in mile high letters.

Maybe that was our last warning. Maybe we really are witnessing the end of time.

When I was young – six or seven – I was convinced the world would end in my life time.

Of course, this now leads me to thinking perhaps I should have led a better life, been more religious, learned the truth about rapture so I might stomach those religious snobs better.

I am concerned.

How many crossroads can humanity come to before we get hit by a truck?

How many times can we tease ourselves with the bomb before some crazy man like Reagan decides to use it?

Military guys always want to see what their weapons can do, which is why they love war so much.

These are the same jerks that talk about balance of power, when they really mean they want the power to kick everybody else in the teeth, and don’t care risking my life to do it.

That’s the reason I’ve decided to start off to Pauly’s hill top now.

I figure if I hurry, I can beat the rush.



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