Disaster Master

My brother Charlie has a tee shirt with the words Disaster Master on the front. I wish I had that shirt, because I'd be wearing it.

I am falling slowly, tortuously over the Fiscal Cliff. My husband lost his job in August and we can't staunch the bleeding. Every day I crank the tourniquets tighter and change the bandages, but the slow bleed continues. There's hope on the horizon, which is hard to see when you're hanging upside down. I think my husband has a job. There are checks in the mail, but you know how that goes.

None of this matters because tomorrow the world ends according to the Mayan calender. Hmm. The Mayans had a lunar calendar. There was no 12/21/12, which may seem special to us, although it's not a palindrome and 12/12/12 seemed more propitious as a doomsday. For the Mayans, tomorrow is the Winter Solstice, the day of least light but the beginning of more light. It's a happy day.

If by chance the world ends, my debts will all be erased.

Hallelujah.