The End of the World

I’m confident humanity wouldn’t survive a real apocalypse. How can I be so sure? Just look how people handle themselves before any snow storm.

We had all the omens earlier this week. There was an evil wind out of the west. Chickens stopped laying eggs. Dogs started playing poker. None of those things really happened. Instead, meteorologists predicted a massive snow storm across the middle of the country, although I’m not sure how much “prediction” is actually involved with a front that big. You don’t exactly need a Doppler radar to figure out a hundred-mile-wide cloud moving due east from Illinois will soon arrive in Indiana, unless somebody jumbled up the map. I never was any good at those puzzles where you had to put the fifty states back in their proper places. According to me, they’re all just in a giant pile somewhere around Kansas. Nonetheless, the local news stations sounded the alarm on the internet, which is the only place anyone pays attention to them. I don’t know why they even have TV towers anymore. Then, like good, stoic Midwesterners, we all lost our collective minds. There’s never a bad time to panic.