Catch a Falling Star

The Mayans predicted the world would end in 2012.  But they apparently didn’t realize that the Cubs would win the World Series and Donald Trump would be elected U.S. President in 2016.    The world as I knew it ended on November 8th.  So now that the four horsemen are riding and the world is coming to a close, I have to plan what it is I will do with my remaining days.

I do so love to draw pictures and tell stories.  I plan to be doing that when the Grim Reaper rides in on his pale pink horse.  (I do realize that the Bible only says it is a pale horse, but Death has a sense of humor, or Trump wouldn’t be president for the End of Days.)

I know old Lucifer isn’t really red, but let’s just call him “Lucy”, shall we?

I am writing a novel about a war between good and evil, a surrealist fantasy novel called Recipes for Gingerbread Children.  It is a novel about an old German Grandma (Like Great Aunt Selma, for those in my family that remember her).  It has Nazis, and evil fairies, and teenage nudists, and magical gingerbread cookies in it.

It isn’t a true story, but the characters in it are based on real people, and like all surrealism, it is presented as true even though it truly cannot be.

Oh, and there’s a werewolf in it.  And if I finish it, I will start another called The Baby Werewolf that shares many of the same characters and reveals a parallel story line that takes place simultaneously.

Torrie and Macey Brownfield.

I like the word “simultaneously”.  It is a very good word.  When I say it out loud, it sounds really snappy and makes me sound way smarter than I actually am.   And I like the idea of stories that tell the same things over again, but from a different perspective or a different point of view.    I am fascinated by the idea.  Oh, and “perspective” and “fascinated” are both very good words too.  “Fascinated” almost makes me sound like Mr. Spock when I say it out loud.

And if I live long enough to complete that literary goal, then I shall surely start another pair.

You see, I don’t expect the world to end for everybody.  In fact, I suspect the cold wind blowing in from the future right now is really only for me.  I am in poor health and life’s stresses are taking a daily toll.  It is true that President Elect Trump thinks climate change being man-made is a Chinese hoax, and that belief is probably going to spell the doom of all life on the planet.  But that won’t actually happen for quite a while yet.  Neither I nor Trump himself will probably live long enough to see the world reap the whirlwind that he has sown.  And I don’t expect my writing and publishing nonsense to amount to anything before the world ends, but it is the world to me.  So I grin and continue.  Such is the way the world turns.

After eight years of George W. and eight more years of Obama, we have gone through highs and lows that either prove that government can do a few good things, or a lot of bad things.  And we all suffer a little, or gain a little, or both no matter who is President of the United States.  There are many on my side of the question that fear this new one is going to be an orange-colored Hitler.  But really, Adolf Hitler was the only Hitler, and he was actually born with the last name Schicklegruber.  This new job and responsibility may change him.  Look how gray it made Obama.  Look how less smiley it made Jimmy Carter.  Look how much like a rodeo clown it made George W. look… um, okay, that one didn’t really change.  And Ronny Reagan was mostly preservative the whole time anyway.  But, anyway, the new job will change the Donald in some significant way.  And Steven Colbert is right.  We have to come together.  We have to hug a Republican here and there.  We have a mutual interest in getting along.

Maybe we need to look a little harder.

I have friends who voted for Trump.  They are probably only still speaking to me because their candidate won.  But losing is not the end.  They are at least still speaking to me.  And whether making fun of me or not, laughter cures all ills.

The Chicago Cubs beat the Cleveland Indians to win the World Series.  They blew a 5 to 1 lead and had to squeak out a one point win in 10 innings… with a rain delay in the extra inning… but they won!  No, they WON!!!!!!!!

But wait, Mickey, didn’t you say the world would end if the Cubs won?  Didn’t you predict they wouldn’t win for another 108 years?  Aren’t you a gol danged Cardinals’ fan?

You got that right.  The Cubs won.  The world will now end.  And I still live and die by the Cardinals’ fortunes.  But it is a case of the universe unfolding as it should.  After all, baseball is life.

You see, rooting for the underdog and being loyal forever, like a true Cubs’ fan, is something God expects in every day life from all of us… at the very least, from the best of us.  We need to feel a part of something bigger than ourselves.  And what is bigger than battling a baseball curse that has lasted for 108 years and overcoming it in the end?

How do you get Chicago Cubs to do the popcorn dance?  Either heat the field up to 250 degrees and burn their feet, or allow them to win the 7th game of the World Series.

The Billy Goat’s Curse began in 1945 during the World Series between the Cubs and the Detroit Tigers.  It was the result of Billy Goat Tavern owner William Sianis having his pet goat Murphy banned from the ball park because of pungent smells and possible talent at making hay farts out of eating too many Cracker Jacks, box and all.

Sianis got so mad that he sent a telegram to Cubs’ owner, Philip Wrigley saying, “You are going to lose this World Series and you are never going to win another World Series again. You are never going to win a World Series again because you insulted my goat.”

And I’ll be danged if that curse didn’t work for at least 71 years.  The Tigers beat the Cubs in 1945 and then didn’t make it back to the World Series again until 2016.  Murphy was one danged powerful goat full of mojo.   Where besides baseball do you get stories with high-octane low-calorie bull-puckey like that?

So now, the world will end.  There is nothing left to overcome.  The spirits of Ernie Banks, Ron Santo, Ferguson Jenkins, and Billy Williams can now be at peace whether they are dead or not.

But wait!  The Indians themselves haven’t won since 1948.  And have you heard of the Rocky Colavito Curse?  Maybe there is reason to live still.  And, who knows, the Cardinals may be about due to win World Series number 12 next season.  I guess I can’t die just yet.