Even the Four Horsemen need a guy with a shovel....

My office has had a catastrophic failure of the satellite dish.

I hate satellite television, by the way; it works fine when the sun is out, but God help you if it rains, sleets, or there is a wind of any kind. Or, if some idiot wants to repair the roof on which your satellite sits.

So, in order to stay connected, I am forced to listen to the radio.

AM radio.

I've been listening to a call-in show; and I'm scared.

There seem to be many, many people out there that are thinking, and in some cases, HOPING that these are the endtimes.

I have faith, friends and neighbors, even as I lack religion. I pray that there is something after this; for if I cannot see again all those that have gone before me, I am going to be very disappointed.

But I am a patient man. I can wait to see them.

And I don't think (read: I really hope) that they are in no hurry to see ME.

Sometimes, I feel that these people are not all that interested in being witness to the end of all things; they just want to be RIGHT. They want to stand on the precipice of paradise and be able to yell, "SEE? I TOLD YOU SO!!!"

My secret desire is that St. Peter punches them in the crotch. It they are right, and they have the nerve to rub it in my face at they enter the kingdom of Heaven as I attempt to make all nice-nice with the Four Horsemen of the Apocolypse, then I want them entering the kingdom of Heaven doubled over, groaning, with tears streaming from their eyes....

Yeah. I know.

I'm screwed.

Giddyup.