The World Is Going to End…

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…and I am seriously annoyed.

Damn, damn damn! There really is just no point in trying to be a good, responsible citizen and do the right thing. Not only does nobody—no individual, I mean—give a damn, but the world, the collective population, doesn’t give a damn.

Take paying taxes as an example. Darleen and I did all our paperwork months ago, tallying up our earnings (that part was depressingly quick and easy) our expenses (a long and wearisome endeavor that had me groping for the whisky bottle and a straw), our deductions (nowhere near enough) and had it all ready long ago for the lady who actually fills out the forms. We don’t do that part because, as is well known, only certified obsessive-compulsive mathematical geniuses with legal degrees can possibly comprehend—or even begin to hope to keep up with—the seventy-eight thousand pages of gobbledygook the government bureaucrats have come up with to enrich and enliven the lives of lucky tax-paying citizens. (Who says government can’t create jobs? Why, when it comes to income taxes the government has spawned an entire industry devoted to simply trying to understand what the government demands and can’t itself even begin to understand. If you think about it, it’s a perfect circle.)

But back to being a responsible citizen. Darleen and I got all this done back in March. In the interests of complete candor and forthright honesty, and in case Darleen reads this, I should be a little more accurate and say that she got it all done. For inexplicable reasons, she regards my creative and imaginative approach to mathematics as unsound. For my part, I regard her slavish adherence to arbitrary rules and antiquated customs to be indicative of a narrow and circumscribed intellect. I mean, for God’s sake, if two plus two is always going to equal four, what the hell is the point? Do you think Michelangelo or Mozart or Tolstoy sat around worrying about boring and capricious rules when they created their masterpieces? Nonsense. But that’s the way Darleen feels about the thing, so in the interests of domestic harmony, I let her have her way, and we turned in our paperwork, had our meeting with our obsessive-compulsive mathematical legal genius and staggered home to await our refund.

And now look what’s happened. Some mentally negligible Pillsbury doughboy in North Korea has announced he intends to celebrate his grandfather’s birthday (April 15th, income tax day) by ending the world as we know it in a thermo-nuclear Armageddon. Apart from the fact that it seems a very peculiar way of celebrating a birthday (couldn’t he just bake a cake?) what about my refund?

There’s just no point in being responsible.

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