Am I Now a Doomer?

I was born in the middle of the 1950’s. So, I am a Boomer. (Born as part of the World War II baby boom.)

I am philosophically a pessimist. So, I am a Gloomer. (Someone who believes that what is most likely to happen is the worst thing that can happen, therefore I always prepare for the worst.)

I like to investigate and play around with conspiracy theories. So, I am a Rumor-Lover. (Though I don’t declare anything absolutely true without absolute proof. Unlike Alex Jones, I am still in pursuit of whether Oswald acted alone and whether 9-11 wasn’t an inside job.)

And I have no faith that the monkey-flinging billionaires will give up polluting with fossil fuels to make short-term profits long enough to save life on Planet Earth from global warming. So, I am a Doomer. (Yes, we really are on a path to extinguish life on Earth even though we have the technology to mitigate and reform it.)

If I sing it,

“I’m a Boomer!”

“I’m a Gloomer!””

“I’m a Rumor-Loving Doomer!”

“We are dying… everyone!”

I have confidence that the human race will survive what’s coming. But it won’t be a fair thing. Those most likely to survive in their Mars colony or underground and undersea cities are the wealthy monkey flingers who caused the problem. Billions are going to die. The world population will be greatly reduced and forced to evolve biologically… probably with the aid of science. I know the clean energy technology is available to solve the world’s problems. But I also know that vast piles of wealth in billionaire tax havens corrupt the wealthy sons and daughters of fat money hogs. It makes them incompetent. Something their servants will kill them for when the small groups of survivors will have secured their existence.

So, I sing my Doomer song. You guessed it. To the tune of “The Joker” by the Steve Miller Band.

Do I think what I think is inevitable?

No. But I will be living out my life doing everything in my power to grow trees, clean trash out of everywhere but the proper receptacles, and curse the bones of those dead old billionaires who did this to us. I hope the Devil puts some extra hot coals under John D Rockefeller in the seventh circle of Hell.

I will be writing and drawing as much as I can until the end of me. It will probably come long before the rest of you face that final chess game with the Reaper. And I don’t expect my work is going to save any of you. But it will help me make meaning out of my life.

I hope I am wrong about everything for the sake of the children.

But this old pessimist is rarely shown by life to be wrong.