what a world, what a world
Yesterday, as I rode with two co-workers to get lunch, the subject came up due to the unseasonably chilly weather we've been having. I am pretty cold-tolerant, so I haven't found a reason to complain, but my very thin-blooded companion (who complains nonstop about the cold whenever the temperature dips below 70) had plenty to say.
"When the apocalypse comes," he said, "I want it to be a hot one, because I hate being cold."
This struck me and the other companion as hilarious.
"Dude," we told him. "You do not get to choose what kind of apocalypse happens. It just is."
Somehow the abusurdity of requesting your own personal end of the world makes me wonder if we're not missing out on a new cottage industry. You can't order up the weather, but wouldn't it be nice if you could tell someone in charge that you'd like to be warm when the planet is wiped out?
This strikes me as something that is more relevant to children of the 70s and 80s. We actually grew up afraid a nuclear war would destroy us all. Speculation on what the world would be like after the bombs fell made the possibility seem more like a probability. That was our reality. I guess it makes sense that I and my friends would be so amused by the potential destruction of the planet - we've lived through this before. Now that global warming really is happening, we're again in a place where talking about the end of the world as we know it isn't just a catchy tune.
Anyway, I feel fine.