Well, if the end of the world is Saturday, I suppose I should do something about it. Maybe buy a really great pair of jeans that lifts and separates in all the right places with no muffin top. And a nice, chic tunic to go along with it. And maybe even, since there’s no pain in heaven, a pair of those super cute chunk-heel espadrilles. Yeah, I think that’s the look I want to rapture in.

Then again, if it is the end of the world, do I really want to be so chic? Maybe I’d prefer to be just who I am on a standard day – tired, soft jeans, ribbed tank, and survivor jacket with terribly practical rainbows, danskos, or salomons… Hair up in a twist with one of these big crab claw things.

I don’t know. I know I am not terribly confident the world will end in just a couple of days. How could I be so lucky?

Stephen Hawking says that the afterlife is a fairy tale. I don’t believe that, but let me take his supposedly superior knowledge and run with his thinking…

I like fairy tales. I commonly use the word “dreamy.” I have my own little kingdom here south of the fork. I’ll take fairy tale over THE END anyday.

My feelings, and therefore values and faith, are simply an electrochemical response in a way my body has been programmed? They sure are! And I welcome them.
The world around me sucks. People are grabbing for any and every thing they can get for free or at another’s expense. The gubmint is hounding people left and right for each morsel of freedom we’ll give up, all in the name of the collective. There are hungry people, sad people, angry people, dirty people, sick people, all around me and many of them have no hope of every finding fullness, happiness, contentment, cleanliness, health… ever. And I cannot fix it.

I want to fix it. I want to fix all that is bad. But I cannot. I do believe in free will and I do believe in survival of the fittest.

The apostle Paul writes about the role of the church to serve the poor and hungry and widowed. And so do I. I believe in community welfare. The WELL FARE OF THE COMMUNITY. Then, when an individual abuses the hands up given to her, she is refused those wants and will leave the community. But the children don’t suffer.
The gubmint cannot do this. At any level. Because of the very bureaucratic nature of gubmint, all policies and programs must be one-size-fits-all. A small community can look at, discuss, and weigh the needs versus wants of those they serve. And they should serve.

I believe in the brotherhood of man. I don’t believe in the bullying of man. And it all goes back to the fairy tale where everyone lives happily ever after. Freely.

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