Signs of the Apocalypse

Back in the 90’s, my very good friend and co-worker stood up from her computer in exasperation and declared Bill Gates to be the Anti-Christ. I wrote it down in my calendar, just in case she turned out to be some sort of prophet.

Like any mortal with a passing interest in theology, I am always on the lookout for signs of the apocalypse.

For awhile, I was convinced that the meteoric rise of Howard Stern was a sure sign that the End was near. I still don’t like him, but I now see him as proof of the American Dream, for where else can an unattractive, talentless boor become an icon?

Then there was the Kerry-Edwards campaign. While not catastrophic in the biblical sense, time sure told that one, eh? John Kerry has always scared me, like he’s from Stepford or something. John Edwards is walking talking proof that the more loudly a person declares themselves to be a Good Christian, the less trustworthy they are.

Then came reality TV. This is where a group of either soap opera writers or wanna-be Pro-Wrestlers got a script together and had some wanna-be actors pretend to be:

Stranded on an island.

In a talent contest .

Looking for their soul-mate.

Or even all three at once.

You could go to work during an election year and ask the question, “Who are you going to vote for?” and get a 15 minute diatribe on how Clay was so much better than Ruben.

My newest obsession about the End coming soon?

Purse doggies.

In 2006, my husband and I were in the check-in line at LAX for a flight to Mexico. The line was held up because a woman with a yappy little barking rat just couldn’t understand why she was not allowed to bring her little darling onto the plane with her.

My first question in all of this is: Does the act of buying one of these annoying little rodents turn a person into a self-centered imbecile or were they already one and no one knew it?

I know a number of people I thought to be relatively intelligent adults, only to have them suddenly dragging around an ill-mannered poop machine. Taking them shopping, which I thought was in violation of health codes, and showing up at someone’s home with an uninvited animal. Squealing with delight, “OH, isn’t THAT CUTE?” as their unwelcome little pest rolls onto its back and becomes a pee-sprinkler.

My second question is this: Where the heck is PETA? Raising a dog so that it is unable to walk is abuse, pure and simple. Animal rights organizations are all over the cause of milk cows and laying hens being penned up and used for one purpose only.

Is a nutcase who buys an animal and holds it captive on their lap or in a carrier any less offensive? I recently had dealings with a woman who had one of these lap doggies. The animal was better dressed, better fed and got more attention than her kids. The dog once tried to escape by jumping off her lap and broke both of its front legs. She explained that the vet says he sees this kind of thing a lot, oblivious to the irony of his statement.

This is an irritation that has been building for some time, starting with the obtuse airport lady and culminating in an injury I suffered recently. I was visiting someone’s home, and another guest’s uninvited dog urinated on the kitchen floor. The hostess ran off to get a towel to clean it up and I- always in the wrong place at the wrong time- slipped in the pee. My feet went in one direction and my arm and shoulder slammed squarely into the door frame.

Was the dog owner mortified that her dog had used the kitchen as its toilet (something I know for a fact would not be tolerated in the dog owner’s own home) and that someone was injured because of it?

Not exactly-

Her first reaction was to scream at the hostess’ five year old. “You know she’s not supposed to be on the floor!”

Her second screeching response was directed at me, “You didn’t step on my dog, did you?”

I know a rousing cheer would have gone up if I had killed the ignorant witch (and her little dog, too). I just didn’t want to spend 3-5 in Chino Women’s facility with inmates trying to bait me by peeing on the floor!