This morning’s cup of Jo is a light roast with all of the caffeine molecules still in tact. I’m awake more now. Enjoy.
Repent all ye sinners – the end is nigh! National Geographic’s doomsday clock leaves you with one day to get all of those last minute chores done. Like storming sacred mountains in France, where the zombies can’t to get at you, and the precise geographical location won’t let any nasty ash in after everything else blows up. I went outside first thing this morning, as you do, and looked to the southern horizon to see if Niburu had arrived yet, and was looming menacingly in the sky. It wasn’t. Neither was there a terrifying bristle of alien spaceships whose occupants were busily getting their stock pots out, and sharing recipes for sautéed human. All was tranquil. It’s probably all in the timing, and I shouldn’t be expecting warnings of what will happen tomorrow, around elevenish.
I’m really amazed at how gullible we are as a species. I’m not being…
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