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It Seems a Shame to Have to Tell Him

In a couple of days, the world is going to end, not as the ancient Mayans did not actually predict it, but from Anxiety.  

 I would like to use the German word, angst, because it conjures up dead Swiss psychologists, but that would take too much of an oceanic leap, and to do that I would have to introduce Thor Heyerdahl and his raft of peculiar assumptions.  

 Even a quick glance at the Mayan calendar is enough to convince all but the most unaware that the end is near, if it has not already gone past us.  You did notice the results of our recent election, did you not?  Is there any way to explain how Mitt Romney, who did, after all, managed to steer the Winter Olympics through Utah, could have lost?  Even Newt Gingrich allows how he could have done better than Mr. Romney, and if the prospect--even the absurdly theoretical notion of Newt Gingrich as President does not alarm you--then you are not really thinking about dying at the top of a ziggarat.  

 I am old and ripe, so the fact that ancient Mayans did not really predict my death does not alarm me.  Everyone who sees me is fairly well convinced that my end is near.  But I have a new grandson, and I thought it best to explain to him all about being scared shitless (which in his case is a particularly good idea), but he is easy on matters of civilizations rising and falling, and of immanent disaster.  

 "Well, what about the Financial Cliff?", I asked him.  "Does that not put a cramp in your angst?"  It didn't.  He did frown when I mentioned John Boehner and Mitch McConnell, but the truth is, the kid pays almost no attention to the news or to magical mystery tours, so he did not even shrug.  He never shrugs, anyway, I guess.  

 Anyway, most people are anxious about people like Jao; you know, Asian, Black, and living right here in our midst, just as it were perfectly normal for a President to have been born in Hawaii.  The kid just doesn't understand.  

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