I had this dream last night where I took care of a little black finch. I don’t remember its name, and now I am beginning to feel responsible for its demise.
The dream was apocalyptic in nature; our family was moving around. At the moment, we were in transition, holing up in a makeshift hospital. I think it was an old HEB, or other kind of grocery store. We were scared, and the little black finch was all I had to remind me of how things would be.
Whenever I think about what [it] will be like (it=future, shortened for place of dummy pronoun); I can’t help but to think of the playground scene from Terminator 2 and how horrible that would be if it really happened. Because if it does, then me getting a master’s in Comp.Ling. will have little to no bearing on the outcome of events between now and the first explosion…and I will be in debt even in the afterlife.
I mean I am sure that if and when this does occur, there will be a 10-hour grace period to look for a magic reset button, much like the one pictured above, and that by resetting the universe, we can start again. I mean SERIOUSLY, what’s 3.5 billion years of evolution — when you have an atomic bomb waiting to melt your face off? I know right????
But in all actuality, there is no reset button — just a fiery french kiss of death — much like the soupy romance between bacteria and early earth. See bacteria/earth for more information.
If and when we come-to after the big breakup with humanity, those left will have little choice left to choose. I am personally shooting for the Good vs. Evil paradigm to make a complete shift. We need a new idea…something with more pizazz/finesse. We need less bullhonkus.
But then, what will the poetry of love be about? And when can we joke about blowing ourselves up again? Things to consider in the next century.
